Snapping Point

27.

Vengeance they would say was a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled. Ivan's thirst for it had landed me right in the domain of the enemy, or was it my own carnal desires?

I couldn't blame my uncle for everything, he hadn't sent me to go watch Romano wed Alfonso's daughter.

The feeling of dejection that had raided me while Romano rubbished me with words was all my doing. Nobody else's.

I hadn't stopped crying just yet. The combination of fear and anger with equal proportions could cost a girl her already flimsy excuse of a composure. This man made me feel so incapable of defending myself, just by looking at me alone.

All he had said was proof of how fast he could hollow out anyone's secret. Mine was no exception.

He rose to his feet once more, and I followed his every move intently, determined not to miss a single detail of this harrowing night. In the back of my mind, a faint glimmer of hope flickered—perhaps, by some stroke of luck, I would make it out of this alive. And if I did, I knew I would have plenty to mull over about tonight's events.

As I surveyed my surroundings, my eyes fell upon a long, gold-plated pole that stretched from one end of the room to the other. It seemed out of place in the space, standing as a silent witness to the illicit dealings that had likely transpired here a thousand times before me. Aside from the pole, the room was sparse, containing only a long bench, an old table, and a small plastic chair.

Romano effortlessly discarded his suit jacket, allowing it to drape over the pole, while he methodically rolled up his sleeves. It was a routine gesture, one that preceded his merciless acts of torture. My heart pounded in my chest as I braced myself for what was to come—I knew all too well why I was losing my composure.

"This room gives me the chills."
His words made a shiver creep up my spine as he casually dropped his cuff links onto the weathered table. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his wristwatch, placing it beside the cuff links. "It's a brisk minus ten degrees in here right now."

There was a sinister edge to his voice, one that filled me with dread. "Oh, butterfly, I shudder to think how quickly you'll freeze in place."

I lacked the kind of psyche to prepare for torture of this nature. Ivan's usual punishments for disobedience was nothing near the physical and mental anguish I faced without even being touched right now.

Admitting that Romano's assessment was correct, I shivered involuntarily, a combination of terror and cold coursing through me. What I had believed to be the end of my training turned out to be only the beginning of his.

His tongue grazed against his upper teeth as he cast me a penetrating glance, his expression demanding compliance. "Tell me everything I need to know. Now."

I felt myself shut down completely, my mouth clamping shut as if of its own accord. Sensing my resistance, he closed the distance between us with an imposing presence that forced me to recoil, instinctively raising a hand in a futile attempt to ward him off.

"Please don't hurt me!"

"You're begging for mercy from the wrong man." Disdain coated his whole aura. "But I appreciate a good plea, even if it's futile. Cooperate, and perhaps you'll escape with nothing more than a few bruises. Refuse, and well, let's just say you won't be leaving here at all, let alone in one piece."

My emotions were a chaotic whirlwind, tossed between fear and a strange sense of exhilaration. The thought of sustaining only a few bruises seemed almost laughable—any hint of aggression from him would undoubtedly leave me battered and broken on the floor.