After a few corridors, I stop to breathe.So escape is officially off the table. I’ll focus on staying out of trouble instead.
I wander a bit before heading up.
I haven’t seen Bruno since this morning. Or Antonio. Or Nivi. Those are the only three names I know in this mini palace.
Once upstairs, I call for Bruno. On the fifth call, I hear paws hitting the floor. I turn the corner and there he is, running toward me, tongue hanging out.
He’s such a cutie.
I pat his head as his tail wags. I follow him toward the corridor he came from.
I glance around. This corridor and my area—my captor’s wing—are separated by a wall. I walk farther in. This must be Bruno’s wing. His toys are here, his bed, his feeding area.
I go deeper into the big hall-like room and sit on Bruno’s low mattress, covered in cushions, scratching around his neck.
“So this is Master Bruno’s territory.”
As if he understands me, he rubs his snout under my chin. I giggle and hug him.
“You’re such a lovely boy, Bruno,” I murmur, kissing near his eye.
“You know, when I was five, I had a dog just like you? His name was Toro.”
Bruno listens, blue eyes fixed on me, head tilting side to side.
“But then he died, and I cried for days.” I sigh. “My dad hates when I cry, so he never let me bring another dog home. Isn’t that bizarre?”
He licks my face. I laugh.
“I’ll take that as a yes. And you know what’s even weirder? My grandpa. He won’t let me or my sister bring home so much as a cat. Says he’s done with animals—my mom traumatized him with too many pets.” I chuckle.
I tickle his belly, and he rolls over, paws in the air. I giggle, rubbing his stomach.
Chapter 5
Salvario
Laughter echoes through walls that have never known anything but silence.
I walk quietly toward where it’s coming from.
She’s on Bruno’s bed, him all over her, giggling whenever he licks her face or neck. I never knew Bruno was such an attention-seeking bastard. I thought he was well-trained—I trained him myself—but here he is, acting like a stupid puppy around a woman he only met yesterday.
And not just any woman, the very one I intend to shatter. I planned for her to experience everything mymother endured. But things aren’t going as planned. Because I feel this annoying reluctance.
I don’t give a damn if I see someone burn alive. I don’t care how many women, children, or other weak creatures die in front of me. I could gladly slice any so-called innocent if the mood strikes me. Yet I can’t carry out the fate I wrote for her two years ago, when I learned Alexander Bennett has a daughter he treasures more than his own life.
“I can’t believe you live with such a monster. It must be so sad.” She strokes Bruno’s head, and the bastard leans into her, begging for more.
“Aww, it’s okay, little Bruno. I’ll take you with me. Promise. I won’t leave you here alone with that tyrant,” she coos, kissing him.
I set my jaw and turn away. I can’t listen to her nonsense or watch my dog act like a pathetic puppy another second.
I walk into my study and settle into my chair.
I need to do something about this woman.And letting her cuddle my dog is not that something. Making her suffer is.
I lean back and close my eyes. My mother’s lifeless eyes rise from memory to haunt me. I’ve lived all these years to see that same look in the eyes of the person Alexander loves most.
