The line goes dead.
No warning.No second chances.
Just a command dressed like a threat, and silence that sounds eerily similar to I’m replaceable.
I slide the phone back into my pocket, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
His words still echo in my head, cold, final, unforgiving."Rip it out of her.Fuck it out of her if you have to."
I swallow the disgust rising in my throat.
Not at the order.
At how easy it would be.To fall back into that again.
To fuck her and make it mean something.To bury everything between us in sweat and skin.To pretend I’m not giving him exactly what he wants—and feeding the sick part of me that still craves her.
I turn back to the glass.She’s sitting like a queen on a fucking throne, wrists raw, jaw locked, as though the ropes and chains don’t mean shit.As if she’s not the one trapped here.
She lifts her head, slow and unbothered, and stares straight at the glass, right through it, as though she knows I’m there.She’s daring me to walk in and try again.
She thinks she can outlast me.Outplay me.This is still some fucked-up echo of who we used to be.
Fuck this, it’s time to go in.Time to finish this shit.If she doesn’t want to talk… Then I’ll break her until she does.
The door swings open.
She doesn’t blink.Doesn’t flinch.Her eyes lock on mine the second I step through, as though she’s been waiting just to piss me off.
I walk in slowly.Every step is deliberate.Heavy.Controlled.The kind of quiet that comes before something violent.
She tilts her head, mouth curling into that smug, smartass smirk I used to taste in the dark.
“I thought they’d send the muscle in,” she says, sweet as poison.“After Daddy’s little boy couldn’t get the job done.”
I stop in front of her, and for half a second, the room is nothing but heat.Pressure.Her mouth and that fucking voice, crawling under my skin like she’s still got the right to be there.
I stare her down.
"You’ll bleed, Em.You’ll scream.And when you finally beg, it won’t be for mercy… it’ll be for me to fucking end it."
She laughs.Low.Bitter.Reminiscent of something jagged being dragged across bone.
“Careful,” she says, voice colder than ice.“If watching me bleed gets your cock hard, Matteo, maybe you’re already the monster he always wanted you to be.”Her eyes gleam with venom.“Or maybe that’s the point.Maybe Daddy didn’t turn you into a monster.Maybe you always were one, just waiting for his permission.”
Her eyes lock on mine, unshaken, burning.
Something inside me snaps.
I lunge forward, grab a fistful of her hair, and yank her head back hard.Forcing her face up, right where I want it.
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away.Doesn’t blink.
She’s defiant right to the end.
Good.
Let her fight me with that fire.I’ll rip it out of her with my bare hands.
