Page 128 of Sinful Wrath

I started to believe that I could have my happily ever after because of him.

How wrong I was.

A strangled sound spills from my lips as I look up and spot a small window, my only link to the outside world. The sky is dark, but I have no idea whether only hours have passed or days. I’ve been here before, and I know all too well how time likes to slow down when you’re staring death in the face.

And my death is wearing the face of Alfonzo Morano, who’s coming to finish what he started.

Iremember seeing the snake tattoo on his neck as he bound me to the chair.

His stale breath on my cheek as he told me how I would be long dead before anyone even realized I was missing.

It comes to me in flashes, my mind barely registering the difference between a memory and a dream.

The pregnancy test.

The shattered windows.

The blood.

I think of the two pink lines and the baby that is probably barely the size of a fingernail growing inside me. Of Mikhail, and the fact that he’s going to eventually find that test long after I’m dead.

“Oh god,” I sob as bile burns my throat. “Mikhail.”

I slam my mouth shut at the sound of footsteps approaching.

This is it.

This is my end.

I send out one last silent prayer to Mikhail, hoping that he’s only seconds away from storming the place because I’m not sure how much fight I have left in me.

The sound of metal scraping against metal fills my ears and then the door is swinging open, revealing the silhouette of a man. One minute, he’s nothing but shadow and the next, he flicks a switch, and the room floods with light.

I blink once, twice, as I realize the man standing in the doorway is not Alfonzo Morano.

“Igor,” I breathe.

“Hello, Lucia.”

I bristle at the way he purrs my name.

I’ve seen enough pictures of the man to know he’s fucking terrifying, from the towering frame and shaved head down to the half-chewed off lobeon his right ear. His dress shirt and pants cling to his heavily muscled body, though the weathered lines on his face give his age away. My body silently screams at me to run, but I’m bound so tight that there’s no chance of me leaving this room except for in a body bag.

“Where are my manners?” Igor’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “I should apologize for ruining your wedding. Tell me, Lucia, how’s your father?”

If I didn’t know what this man was capable of, I might have believed his sympathy. But Igor Ivanov doesn’t have a sympathetic bone in his body.

“Dead for all I know.”

“I wish. But, no. It turns out your father is hard to kill.” Igor chuckles, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Even with multiple bullets in his chest, he still clings to life.”

“He has a lot to live for. Unlike you, you heartless fucking prick.”

Igor’s gray eyes narrow as he moves to crouch in front of me, the muscles of his shoulders straining against his navy shirt.

“I would have preferred him to have a swift death.” Igor shrugs. “If only to prevent you from suffering so much.”

“My suffering clearly doesn’t seem to bother you.” I pull against my restraints.