Bought For His Vengeance

2

Chapter Two

(Amara POV)

“Strip.”

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t move.

For a second, I just stood there, staring at him like maybe I heard it wrong.

Maybe he didn’t mean it.

Maybe—

“I don’t like repeating myself, bellissima.”

My breath hitched.

“I—” my voice came out small. “I don’t think—”

“Does it look like I asked?”

The words cut through me instantly.

I froze.

My hands started shaking.

I hesitated for a second too long.

His eyes didn’t change… still those brown eyes, cold, empty, like nothing I did mattered.

“Would you like me to do it for you?” he asked.

My heart dropped.

“No—” I whispered quickly.

A tear slipped out before I could stop it.

I raised my hands slowly to my shirt, my fingers trembling so badly I almost couldn’t hold it.

Each piece of clothing fell away, one after the other.

Too slow.

Too loud.

Too real.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.

Watching.

Waiting.

By the time I was done—

I stood there.

Exposed.

My arms instinctively moved, trying to cover myself, but I forced them back down.

I didn’t want to make him angrier.

I didn’t want to do anything wrong.

⸻

(Dante POV)

She was beautiful.

I wouldn’t lie.

But that didn’t erase what she did.

It didn’t change anything.

So why—

Why did I feel something twist slightly in my chest when her eyes trembled like that?

A tear rolled down her face, slipping from those green eyes she kept trying to hide.

Weak.

Pathetic.

That’s what she should be.

And yet…

Something felt off.

My gaze moved over her again, slower this time.

Careful.

Observing.

Had she changed since then?

No.

Something wasn’t right.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

The collarbone.

There was a scar.

I paused.

That scar hadn’t been there before.

I was sure of it.

My jaw tightened.

And her hands—

Calloused.

Rough.

Not the hands of someone who lived the life I remembered.

God.

She looked… different.

Smaller.

Breakable.

I stepped around her slowly, like I was studying a painting that didn’t quite match its memory.

Everything was there.

But something was wrong.

Still—

“She looks pathetic,” I muttered under my breath.

And yet I didn’t look away.

“Go take a bath,” I said finally. “You stink.”

⸻

(Amara POV)

I didn’t wait.

I moved immediately.

Anything to get out of that room.

Anything to get away from him.

The bathroom was bigger than anything I had ever seen.

I didn’t even look around properly.

I just turned on the water.

My hands were still shaking as I stepped under it.

The warmth hit my skin, but it didn’t help.

Nothing helped.

Not the water.

Not the silence.

Not the fact that I was alone.

Because I wasn’t really alone.

Not here.

Not in this place.

I washed quickly, my movements rushed, like I was afraid he would walk in at any moment.

Like I didn’t have time.

Like I never had time.

⸻

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I froze.

I had no clothes.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the empty space like something would magically appear.

Nothing did.

I looked back at the clothes I had left behind.

For a second, I thought about wearing them again.

But something about it felt wrong.

Like I wasn’t allowed to.

Like I would be punished for it.

So I stepped out anyway.

Barefoot.

Careful.

Quiet.

I walked along the corridor, my heart beating faster with every step.

I needed clothes.

I needed something.

I needed—

Then I saw it.

A door.

Slightly open.

Voices.

I slowed down.

My steps quieter now.

Something told me I shouldn’t be here.

That I should turn back.

But I didn’t.

I moved closer.

And then—

I saw him.

Dante.

Standing there.

Holding a gun.

Pointed at someone.

My breath caught.

Why was he holding a gun?

And most importantly—

Who was he pointing it at?