Page 18 of Brutal Revenge

Pig.

After securing a large piece of tape to the minute bit of cleavage the V-neckline of my dress exposes, he dumps a duffel bag at my feet.

“There’s enough in there to set you up anywhere you want to go.” After wetting his dry lips, he lifts and locks his eyes with mine. “You can go anywhere you want… except back to him.”

Tears burn behind my eyes.

I can’t leave. I don’t have a choice. I must marry Antonio. It is the only option.

Matteo doesn’t seem skilled at mind reading.

After a brief glance at my flustered cheeks and panting chest, he moves back toward the exit. Tears prick my eyes when the wind outside flaps out his jacket.

It could be my imagination—my panic is at an all-time high—but I swear he murmurs, “Goodbye,la mia tigrotta,” half a second before the air hostesses close the jet’s door with him on one side and me on the other.

Chapter 5

Matteo

Cool night air slices through my coat like a blade when I finally leave the basement of the Adami estate. It’s refreshing after spending hours below ground, causing havoc. A metal door slams shut behind us with an echoing finality that vibrates through my bones and settles in a place I don’t let anyone see.

A long torture scene in a basement reveals the ugliest truths about our world that seep into the bloodstream. Nothing can wash them away. They’re too dark and deprived, and they whir beneath my skin long after the lights go out.

Antonio Adami is still alive. He shouldn’t be. He would have been a memory by now—a stain on the concrete, a problem erased—if Azra hadn’t heeded my warning.

She didn’t say his name again. Not once.

Well, not vocally.

I heard her silent pleas when I taped her to the chair in the private jet.

For some fucked-up reason, she wanted to continue her arrangement with Antonio.

Fucked if I know why, but the thought made me furious.

I went harder on Antonio than I’d intended when I returned to the Adami compound to assist Nico and Elio with the retribution we’d arrived to exact.

He’s alive, but it’ll take him more than a few weeks to lick his wounds.

He may never get over hearing in explicit detail how well his once-fiancée gives head to a cut penis. I told my story with so much truth that he hardly flinched as I carelessly removed his foreskin from the flabby bit of muscle I’ll remove completely if it ever gets within sniffing distance of Azra again.

His beatdown after his circumcision with a blunt knife should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Azra kept slipping into my thoughts like smoke under a door, impossible to block out and ignore. I’m irritated as fuck by how quickly she unraveled me. I spent years building walls higher than anyone could scale, but somehow, she climbed the summit without even breaking a sweat.

I’m not meant to care.

I don’t fucking care.

Caring is a luxury I burned out of myself a long time ago. It’s a weakness I carved out piece by piece until nothing soft remained.

Yet here I am, walking away from a punishment that should have satisfied every dark instinct I possess, and my sole focus is on the way Azra looked up at me while swallowing my dick like she was born to do it.

Her gaze was too unflinching and calm for someone who should have been terrified.

Satan had an angel in his sights, and he was about to drag her to the depths of hell with him.

Thank fuck she uttered the words she did, or I’d still have my head buried between her legs, eating her greedy, sweet-smelling cunt until it was raw and blistering like she didn’t suck me off purely to make Antonio jealous.

Dirt kicks up around me when my boot lands on a rock with force.It’s the only thing within punching distance, but too low to consider pummeling it with my fist.