CHAPTER 6: THE LAYER OF THE BEAST
1062 Words
The elevator came to a slow, deliberate stop at the last floor. My heart pounded in my chest as the doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the dimly lit corridor ahead. Alessio stepped out first, his movements unhurried, exuding the same lazy confidence that made my skin crawl. I hesitated, swallowing against the dryness in my throat before following. My fingers tightened around the stained white sheet as if it could somehow anchor me.
We stopped before a massive, ancient-looking door. It was dark mahogany, adorned with intricate carvings that seemed almost alive in the flickering candlelight. It loomed over me, standing as a silent witness to whatever horrors lay beyond.
Alessio unlocked it with a soft click, then turned to me, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"Enter, little wife," he murmured, his voice smooth yet laced with something ominous.
I hesitated for a split second, then stepped inside. The room was vast, almost cavernous, swallowed in deep shadows. The air was thick with the scent of cigars, leather, and something distinctly Alessio. It was cold, unnervingly so, like a place untouched by warmth.
The bed dominated the center of the room—a king-sized, black-wood monstrosity draped in dark silk sheets. Behind it, an ornate drawer stood tall, adorned with an eerie dragon-like statue from whose mouth tendrils of smoke curled lazily into the air. The dim lighting barely illuminated the walls, where ancient paintings stared down at me as if judging my very existence. My gaze flicked across the room—guns, knives, and scattered papers, some of them smeared with dried blood. My stomach twisted.
The room felt like another world, separate from the grandeur of the mansion. Here, it was cold—an icy, unwelcoming presence lingering in the air. It sent shivers down my spine. I had stepped into the lair of a predator.
Alessio moved with predatory grace, throwing himself onto the bed with a lazy sprawl, his sharp eyes never leaving me. His golden gaze glowed in the dimness like that of a watching beast.
"Are you scared?" he mused, his voice laced with amusement.
I forced my chin up, masking my fear with defiance. "Scared?" I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. "Only a weakling is scared, Alessio."
A smirk tugged at his lips, and something dark flickered in his eyes. "Interesting."
I placed the folded white sheet on the bed, my fingers lingering on the fabric for a moment longer than necessary. My voice was steady, but every inch of me was screaming.
"If I bleed," I said, my tone unwavering, "it won't be for them. It won't be for you."
Alessio stilled. His eyes narrowed slightly, but there was something unreadable in them. A long pause stretched between us, thick and suffocating. Then, his lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer.
"Aren't you a daring little wife?"
I didn’t answer. Instead, I lifted my chin and exhaled. "Where’s the bathroom?"
He pointed lazily to a door on the far side of the room. Without another word, I walked toward it, my steps measured. As soon as I shut the door behind me, my composure shattered.
The warm water gushed over my face as I sank into the bathtub, my body trembling with silent sobs. The walls muffled the sounds of my crying, but the weight in my chest didn’t ease. I felt trapped, like a bird shoved into a gilded cage with no escape.
Minutes passed before I forced myself to stand. I wasn’t going to break. Not for them. Not for him.
I dried my hair with a towel, then stepped out, my body wrapped in silk. The moment I emerged, Alessio’s gaze was on me, slow and assessing, drinking me in like I was something he owned.
Heat prickled my skin. "I’d like some privacy while changing," I said, my voice clipped.
He chuckled, a low, amused sound. "I'm your husband, little wife. There’s no need. Soon enough, I’ll know and learn all about your body."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. My grip tightened around the silk nightgown the Deluca women had given me. It was delicate, laced with sheer fabric designed to leave little to the imagination.
I sighed, slipping it on. "Why did they give me this when you’ll just rip it in a second?" I muttered dryly.
Alessio laughed again, the sound deep and lazy. "Oh, they’re sentimental like that."
I walked to the bed, hesitating before spreading the white sheet over one side. His eyes followed my every movement, gleaming with a flicker of something dark, something hungry. My heart pounded, but I didn’t let it show.
Then, suddenly, his palm was on my face, warm—unexpectedly warm. For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
"The Morettis gave me the prettiest," he murmured, dragging me toward him with unsettling gentleness.
My heart stuttered. His touch was possessive, firm yet careful. God, he was solid, all lean muscle and lethal strength. I tried not to think about how easy it would be for him to break me.
Then, just as abruptly, his phone buzzed. The air shifted. The flicker of warmth disappeared. He released me instantly, pulling the device from his pocket.
I watched as his expression darkened. The shift was instant—one second, he was watching me like a predator considering its prey; the next, his entire body was coiled with quiet rage.
He stood quickly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. His jaw clenched, his golden eyes now sharp as a blade. Without another glance, he strode to the dresser, grabbing a gun and sliding it into the holster beneath his suit.
I stared. "What—"
He cut me off with a sharp glance. "You escaped tonight, little wife. But remember, it’s only tonight."
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the freezing room. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. I stared at the pristine white sheet beneath me, my hands clenching into fists.
A part of me wanted to feel relief. He was gone. I was safe.
And yet, as I sat there, alone in the dark, I realized something chilling.
I wasn’t safe at all.
The white sheet remained untouched. And I was left alone in the lair of a beast.
- Writer
