Fated To The Cursed Alpha Don

3. Beg Me

“I don’t know... please,” I whisper, barely getting the words out.

“Wrong answer.”

I shut my eyes tightly, preparing for what is coming. Ren’s cries pierce the air, filled with a horror that gnaws at your very being. It's the kind of noise that stays with you forever.

“Stop, please! Enough!” I yell, but I can’t bring myself to look. The gruesome sounds from Ren are vivid enough.

When silence finally returns, I reluctantly open my eyes. I wish I hadn’t. Ren’s body is sprawled in a pool of blood, his eyes...gone. Empty hollows stare back at me, and I feel nausea rising.

I turn away, my stomach churning with disgust. Dante stands nearby, calm and collected, as if this brutality is a normal occurrence for him.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” His tone is cold, devoid of feeling. “I’ll let you gather yourself. But when I return, you better have a response.”

With that, he exits, his men following closely. They left me there...left me with Ren’s remains. They wanted me to stare at it, to take in every disturbing detail. And God…. It's working. But I need to be strong. Showing weakness will only make the torture worse…it's what Papa always say.

I thrash against the chains, my wrists burning as the metal bites into my skin…but I don’t care. I just want out. I pull and pull until my strength gives out, leaving me slumped, exhausted, and in tears before unconsciousness takes over.

When I eventually wake up, my throat is dry and my entire body hurts like hell. How long had I been out? Hours, maybe? It doesn't matter though. I can only think about getting out of here. Papa and Gavi need to find me soon. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on.

The door swings open, and there he is again, walking in with his men. His steps are confident, and his gray eyes are still very cold and hard.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he asks smoothly.

I want to scream, cry, lash out, anything to keep him from seeing how broken I feel. Instead, I meet his gaze, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I don't know where he is. And even if I did, you'll kill me after I tell you.”

“Kill you?” His lips twitch, but it’s not a smile. This f*****g bastard doesn’t smile. “No, gattina. You don’t get it yet, do you? Let me spell it out for you.”

He steps closer, and I hate how his presence seems to suck all the air out of the room. I can smell him—that same dark, intoxicating scent from earlier. My pulse quickens, my body betraying me in ways I don’t want to acknowledge.

“I’ll never let you go,” he says slowly. “You’re mine. Body, spirit, soul. Every part of you belongs to me now.”

His eyes drop, lingering on the thin fabric of my blouse. The way they travel…slow, deliberate, like he’s stripping me bare sends a shiver through me and Heat pools low in my stomach. I hate how my body's reacting. I f*****g detest it.

"But your father," he continues in an insufferable tone. "Your father doesn’t get that luxury.. An eye for an eye. I will skin him slowly, piece by f*****g piece, and by the time I'm done, there won't be enough of him left to fit inside a coffin. Then I will turn my sights on you, and I will break you. Not your body, gattina. Your soul. Your spirit. I'll break you until all that remains is a hollow shell.”

There’s so much venom in his voice, so much raw pain and fury that for a moment, I wonder what Papa did to him to make him like this.

But I can’t let him see that. I force my chin up. “You’re wasting your time. You’ll never break me.”

“Oh, we'll see about that.”

Before I can process his words, his men are on me. They unchain me from the wall, and for a second, I think I might catch a break. But no. They slap a chain around my ankle, yank me upside down, and suddenly I'm swinging like some dangling chandelier, before being dunk headfirst into a barrel of water.

Panic hits instantly. I hold my breath, thrashing and kicking like crazy. Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, they pull me out. I’m coughing and gagging, water pouring out of my nose and mouth. And my chest…. God it's burning.

“You ready to talk?” Dante asks as he lights a cigarette. The bastard is totally unfazed.

“I... I don’t know...” I manage to choke out in-between coughs. “Please, stop. I didn’t do anything to you.”

He doesn’t even react….just flicks his fingers, and they dunk me again. This time, it's longer. When they finally pull me out, I’m gasping for air and shaking all over.

“Beg,” he says, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Beg me slowly.”

I glare at him through the tears in my eyes. “Fuck... f**k you.”

“Put her back in.”

Before I can even brace myself, they dunk me again. This time, it’s worse. The water floods my nose and mouth. My lung’s burning, and f*****g screaming for air. It’s too much. I’m done. I’m going to die in this shitty place if I don't talk.

Fuck.

I try to scream, to tell them I’ll talk, but the water drowns out everything. My body’s giving up. Maybe Dante’s changed his mind. Maybe he’s decided I’m not worth the trouble. And honestly? Maybe he’s right. Dying here would be better than for Papa to be caught and tortured.

But just as the darkness closes in, they pull me up again. Everytime I breathe, it f*****g hurts.

“You thought I was going to let you die?” Dante’s voice is softer now, almost a whisper, but it’s the kind of soft that makes your skin crawl. “You’re not allowed to die without my permission. Let’s try this again…unless you feel like begging me properly.”

I hate him. I hate him so much I want to die. But I can’t do it. I can’t go back into that water.

“Please,” I whisper. It barely comes out. My pride is fighting me tooth and nail, but my body is too broken to care anymore.

He leans in closer, locking his grey eyes on mine. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Please,” I croak. The tears are pouring now, unstoppable. “I beg you. Please. Please…”

He watches me, unblinking, and for a second, just a second…something shifts in his face. Something I can’t name. Something human maybe.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, long fingers brushing against my face. His touch is light, careful, like he’s handling glass. “Calm down. Take a breath. That’s right. You don’t have to fight me.”

It’s the last thing I expect, that soft touch, those soothing words. It f***s with my head, makes my chest twist with something I don’t want to name. Why does it make me feel... calm?

Suddenly the iron door slams open, and my head jerks up instinctively.

A middle-aged woman…tall and elegant walks in. Her heels click against the floor, sharp and angry.

“Enough,” she snaps.