No one to come in and save him, no one to set him free. He’s alone and why not go out with a bang. I lower myself to him, wanting him to look me in the eye and tell me again who killed my father. Before I can speak, his head veers back and slams into mine. The impact causes me to stumble back, blinking to clear my vision.
Antonio reaches for his pistol but I raise my hand to stop him and lung forward, slamming my knife into his stomach. I leave it there for a moment and go to my bag and pull out a vial.
“Does this look familiar?” I hold up the liquid.
Tears roll down his face and he lifts his head to look at what’s in my hands.
“Y-you knew?” he says between gasps.
“Of course I knew. You get to taste the exact poison you gave to my father." I slowly stride over with the vial, twirling it between my fingers.
My hands shoot out and lock onto his jaw. I tip his head back and he fights to keep his mouth shut. Antonio pries his mouth open, careful from getting bit. Unscrewing the vial, I pour the contents down his throat. Antonio shuts his mouth, holding it closed so that he has no choice but to swallow.
Yanking the knife out from his stomach, I circle behind him. I give it a few moments and watch as he struggles to breathe. I made sure the dose was stronger than the one they gave my father so it works quickly. His eyes start to roll back which causes me to spring into action.
“Welcome to hell, your mother will be meeting you soon.” Without hesitation, I grab him by the scalp and pull his head back. Running the knife across his neck, I watch as life leaves his body.
The sense of sorrow washes over me. Not for him, but the confirmation I was given of who took my father away. Who took away the one person who meant the world to me. I try to hold the tears back.
“I want his head for the meeting. I want Bianca to feel the pain I felt when she took my world away from me.” I hand Antonio the knife before walking away.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CELESTE
“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity” - Sun Tzu, The Art of War
The ache I feel in my chest is so heavy that as soon as I get to my car, I begin to hyperventilate. Letting out an ear-piercing scream, I slam my fists over and over on the steering wheel. My heart breaks over again, and right now all I want is my dad. For him, I stay strong but I can feel myself chipping away. I need a release. I need to forget everything that was just confirmed. Grabbing my purse that I stashed under the seat, I retrieve my phone and scroll for Alaric’s number.
Me: Where are you right now?
I need him to make me feel out of control right now. I need him to remind me that I’m still alive. He’s the only one who can keep my mind from scrambling. My phone chimes, notifying me of a response.
Alaric: I’m at my place right now grabbing more clothes. Are you okay?
Me: No. Get the room ready. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
Not waiting for a response, I shove my phone into my purse and take offtowards his apartment. Luckily, the streets are clear, given the time of night. I don’t even glance at the speed as I know I’m going way over the speed limit. Luckily, there are no police in sight and the fates are giving me a pass.
I make it in record time and find a close parking spot. I’m about to get out when I realize that I never took my gloves off from earlier events and I should probably take this top off. In full panic mode, I look around the car and notice a duffle bag in the back. The boys always think of everything, or Angela. At this moment, I’m so grateful and yank the gloves off and grab the bag. There’s a plastic bag in there, too. which is perfect cause these need to get burned. I tried to avoid getting any blood on me but shit happens. Quickly, I peel off my clothes and thrust them in the bag.
Changing in the front seat is definitely a challenge but I’m able to do it without hitting the horn. Once dressed, I put the bag in the duffle bag and throw it in my back seat. I need to remember to have the boys detail my car in the morning just in case anything is transferred to my steering wheel.
The night is chilled causing goosebumps to spread along my arms. Making quick work, I rush past the front desk and fly into the elevator. Why the hell does he have to be on the tenth floor? It’s pure torture standing here, waiting to see my man. Once I finally get to the designation, I rush to the door and knock furiously. I try to calm down so his neighbors don’t pop their heads out to the crazy woman out in the hall.
After a few moments, the door opens and I waste no time throwing myself into his arms, crashing my lips at him. He grunts at the impact but never pulls away from me. He picks me up by the hips and I wrap my legs around his waist as he kicks the door closed. He carries me across the room, down the hall, right to the room I requested.
The door closes behind us and he breaks the kiss by setting me back down on my feet. Our chests rise up and down and pure lust fills the room. He takes a moment to look at me, really look at me. Concern lines his face and it causes me to fidget. I don’t want him looking at me like that. I can’t outright say that I just got confirmation of my father’s death and I killed the guy. I’ll break, and all I want is to feel anything but that.
“Celeste, what happened?” He moves into me, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Please don’t ask me when I can’t tell you. I need you to dominate me. I need you to make me feel alive,” I beg, hoping he doesn’t push the matter.
He hesitates for a moment before he nods his head. Leaving me in my spot, he moves over to the armoire and opens up the doors. I watch him as he shuffles through the contents, looking for the items he’s going to use.
“Take your clothes off and kneel on the bench.” His voice instantly changes to this deep, dominant tone that has me clenching my legs.
I resist the urge to say, “yes daddy”, and start to strip off the layers. Leaving them in a heap, I slowly saunter over to the bench in the middle of the room. My knees meet the plush cushions and I immediately look up at the hook above my head. Heat pools between my thighs at the excitement of being hung from the very contraption.
