Page 122 of Brutal Revenge

And that is the sole reason I say, “We’ll do it.”

Matteo whips around. “No. You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s fine,” I say quietly. “I want to.”

I don’t, but I need him to leave this room breathing, and this is the only way I can guarantee that.

My father steps aside, revealing a white ceremonial cloth laid out across the foot of the mattress. “A simple smear of blood will prove your unity, and no one will question it again.”

Matteo looks at me, eyes burning. “You don’t have to?—”

“I do,” I whisper, pulling away from the man holding me captive.

He lets me go, but I hear his throat work hard to swallow when Matteo glares at him. My father was smart to seek the help of Matteo’s rivals for this. If Matteo loses his temper, he’ll be dead.

This is a lose-lose situation for him.

The remembrance of how he instantly backed down when I placed my body on the line sees me snatching up his hand and guiding himinto the hub of the room. Although I haven’t seen my mother in hours, there are signs she has been here. Oils perfect for perineal repair sit on the bedside table, alongside a bottle of lubricant.

Matteo’s steps taper when he spots the same products. “Fuck,micina. I don’t think I can do this.”

One man cocks his gun, and my throat dries enough for my words to come out clear. “Why? I don’t know about you, but I’ve been dying for this since you drove me to Lombardo’s.”

Matteo steps ahead of me again, fury radiating off him. “This isn’t right. I willnotdisrespect you like this. I can take them.”

His last words are whispers, but my father still hears them. “And she will be dead before you spin around.” I plead for my father to pretend for even a second that he loves me when he lines up the scope of his weapon with the crinkle between my brows. “This also isn’t about disrespecting her. It’s tradition. You married intoourworld, so you will respectourtraditions.”

Matteo’s voice is low and dangerous. “I’ll respect her… andonlyher.”

Over Matteo’s shoulder, my father’s eyes narrow before he shifts the direction of his gun to Matteo’s head.

As his finger hugs the trigger, I fall onto the mattress, taking Matteo with me.

“Azra—”

“It’s okay,” I say softly. “They can’t see me. You know this.”

He does, because that’s the only reason he showed him the footage from the nightclub office.

“Once we do this, they’ll leave.”

The world narrows to just us when he asks, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Nodding, I whisper, “Yes.”

Matteo curses when I move my shaky hand to the zipper in his trousers, but he doesn’t stop me. When I remove his cock from his boxer shorts, it falls heavily into my palm. It’s thick and veiny but nowhere near as girthy and long as I’ve seen it before.

This is messing with his head more than any drug could.

“It’s just us,” I tell him. “There’s no one in the room with us.”

He must hear the prayer in my words as readily as I do. “I won’t let anyone see you,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

My throat tightens when he slides my panties to the side and notches the head of his cock at the opening of my pussy. Mercifully, it is so thought-stealing that I only scarcely register my father telling the men to bring him proof of our union, before he leaves.

This is embarrassing enough, but it would have been worse if he had stayed.

“Look at me,” Matteo demands, returning my focus to him. When he gets my eyes, he says, “I need you to loosen up for me. I don’t want to tear you.”