CHAINS OF OBESSESSION
1364 Words
DANTE'S POV
Blood dries too fast on cheap suits.
That’s the thought running through my head as I watch the man kneeling on the warehouse floor, his face pale, eyes wide with terror. His hands are zip-tied behind his back, shoulders jerking as though he can shake off the fear dripping down his spine.
The concrete under him is stained with darker spots—old blood, piss, oil. A graveyard of stains. He’ll be part of it soon.
Marco flicks open his knife beside me, impatient. Luca leans against a pillar, sipping espresso like this is a quiet morning at some Roman café instead of another execution.
I drag on my cigar, exhaling slow, letting the smoke curl between us like a sermon. “Do you know what pisses me off more than betrayal?”
The man swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Please, Mr. De Luca, I—I didn’t mean to—”
I slam my fist against the metal table. The sound rings out like a gunshot. “Answer the f*****g question.”
He flinches. His lips tremble. “I—I don’t know.”
“Cowards,” I say, voice sharp enough to cut. “Betrayal I can stomach. It’s business. Sometimes rats get greedy. But cowards? Spineless worms who beg when they should stand like men? That’s what makes me want to carve you open.”
Marco grins. “Can I do it?”
“Not yet,” I murmur.
The man’s voice cracks. “I only....took a few crates. I had debts. My family....”
I laugh, low and cruel. “Your family? You think Crawford will feed them when you’re gone? You think he gives a f**k?”
The name makes him blanch, and I know I’ve hit the nerve. Crawford’s always sniffing around my empire, like a stray dog looking for scraps. And I hate stray dogs.
“You steal from me, then you run to my enemies?” I crouch in front of him, gripping his jaw until his teeth clack together. His breath reeks of fear. “You know what that makes you?”
He shakes his head, tears sliding down his face.
“My property,” I whisper. “And I do what I want with what’s mine.”
I nod to Marco.
The blade flashes. A quick, brutal s***h across the bastard’s throat. Blood gushes, spraying across the floor, warm drops spattering my shoes. The man gurgles, hands straining against the ties as his life pours out in a choking mess. His eyes roll back, and then he slumps, twitching, still.
Silence.
Only the drip of blood hitting the concrete.
I rise slowly, wiping my hand on a rag. My heart rate never changes. My pulse stays calm. Killing’s like smoking—habitual.
“Dump him in the river,” I tell Marco, voice cold. “Make sure Crawford hears about it. Make sure everyone hears about it.”
Marco grins wider, excited for the theatrics. Luca just takes another sip of his espresso, murmuring, “You’re making the river more crowded than the clubs.”
I smirk, but my mind’s already elsewhere.
Not on Crawford. Not on shipments. Not on business.
On her.
---
Liliana.
The moment I close my eyes, I see her. The stubborn tilt of her chin when she looks at me like she’s not terrified. The fire in her eyes when she snaps back instead of crying. The way her body tenses every time I step close—half fear, half something else she won’t admit.
She’s under my skin like shrapnel, cutting deeper every time I breathe.
Other women I’ve owned broke fast. A few nights of pain and they’d crawl on their knees for mercy. Liliana? She refuses to bend. And I’ll admit it—part of me doesn’t want her to.
Breaking her is going to be the sweetest f*****g thing I’ve ever done.
The drive back to the estate feels longer than usual. My men fill the silence with updates, but their words blur together. All I can think about is the girl upstairs, trapped in my room, probably pacing like a caged kitten.
When I walk into the mansion, the air feels heavy, charged. My boots echo against marble floors as I climb the stairs, every step deliberate.
I push open the door.
There she is.
Liliana sits on the edge of my bed, still in that torn wedding dress, the satin stained and wrinkled. Her hair is a mess, falling in wild tangles around her shoulders. Her eyes snap to me the moment I enter—those stormy eyes that dare me to come closer.
Brave. Stupid. Beautiful.
I close the door behind me, slow, deliberate. “Comfortable, doll?”
She stiffens. Her voice is brittle when she answers, “Go f**k yourself.”
My mouth curves into a grin. “Oh, I’d much rather f**k you.”
Color rises in her cheeks, but she doesn’t flinch. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet, you’re still staring.”
Her hands clench in her lap. I can see her knuckles whitening, her shoulders tight. She’s trying to hold her ground, but her body betrays her. Her pulse is a drumbeat in her throat, and I want to sink my teeth into it.
I step closer. One, two, three slow strides until I’m standing in front of her. She tilts her head up to meet my gaze, even though her breath hitches.
“Ungrateful,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I give you food. A warm bed. Protection from men who’d do worse than me. And this is how you repay me?”
“You kidnapped me,” she spits. “You killed people in front of me. You’re a f*****g monster.”
I grip her chin, tilting her face higher. My thumb presses into her cheek until she winces. “And yet you’re still breathing, doll. If I was the monster you think I am, you’d be in the ground already. Or worse.”
Her eyes glisten, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re not keeping me. I’ll find a way out. I’d rather die than belong to you.”
The words are sharp. But her voice cracks on that last bit, and it slides under my skin.
I chuckle darkly, leaning in until my breath grazes her ear. “Don’t lie to yourself, Liliana. Your body already knows you’re mine. It’s your mind that’s lagging behind.”
She shudders when my hand trails down her throat, resting over her racing pulse. My c**k hardens at the feel of it—fragile, frantic, trapped.
“You can fight me,” I whisper, my lips ghosting her jaw. “You can scream, scratch, bite. I like it rough. But in the end, doll…” My grip tightens on her waist, dragging her against me. “You’ll break. And when you do, you’ll beg for me.”
Her chest rises and falls, sharp, uneven. Her nails dig into my wrist, but she doesn’t push me away.
Fuck, she makes me want to ruin her right there. Tear that dress off, mark every inch of her until she can’t look in the mirror without seeing me.
But I pull back. Because anticipation is a weapon. And I want her begging on her knees when I finally destroy her.
I stand, releasing her. She slumps back on the bed, breath shaky, eyes wide.
“Get some rest,” I say, voice mocking. “Tomorrow, I’ll start your lessons.”
Her voice is hoarse when she spits back, “Go to hell.”
I grin as I walk to the door. “Already there, sweetheart. You’re just keeping me company.”
---
Downstairs, I pour myself a whiskey. The burn does nothing to quiet the hunger gnawing in my gut.
Luca raises a brow. “She’s still fighting?”
“She’ll fight until she can’t anymore,” I mutter, swirling the glass.
Marco chuckles. “And when she breaks?”
I sip, letting the fire scorch my throat. My lips curl into a wolfish smile. “Then she’s mine forever.”
- Writer
