To Love a Devil (The Princess and The Devil Book 2), page 18
“So many options,” I muse. “I could string you up by your ankles and bleed you dry, but no…I think I have something better. I think ridding you of your limbs, forcing you to watch as I cut them off, will be fun.”
He grimaces. “Fuck you.”
“Wrong answer.”
I slam the machete down on his other hand, slicing through his wrist. His cries bounce off the concrete walls. Violent music notes that work as a melody.
He hangs his head. Chest rising sharply.
I don’t ask again, instead, I toss the weapon aside and I reach for the chainsaw. I pull the lever and it roars to life. His chest rises and falls in quick succession; he inhales short, quick spurts, dread permeating the very air we breathe.
The winding chain spins and with force I aim it at his ankles and watch as it hacks through skin and bone, tearing him apart.
Ochoa howls in the chair like a wild animal.
Tears roll down his face.
He futilely tries to suck in air, futilely tries to speak, but all that comes out is a squawk, the sound of him choking on his own affliction. His own nightmare.
Hitting the power button, I set the tool back on the table and circle him. My loafers click against the thick puddle of his blood. The distinct scent of copper hangs thickly in the air along with his despair. His face is gaunt, and the pallor of his skin is ghostly white.
Snaking my hand around his throat, I wring tightly, forcing his gaze back to mine. “I’m just getting started. Stay with me, Ochoa. Your descent into hell has only just begun.”
I release him and he coughs while I head back to the table. His panted words stop me in my tracks.
“He said he was taking her back home. That’s all I fucking know.”
“So, Chicago?” I glance at him from over my shoulder. His eyes are dazed, vision unfocused.
“I don’t know. He said he planned to do whatever it took to get you out of her life, even if it meant getting rid of her. He wasn’t losing to you.”
My heart slams to a halt in my chest. I school my features before I turn back around, eyes narrowed.
“That all?”
He swallows. “That’s all I know.”
“What was your role in all of this?” I quirk a brow, trying to connect the dots.
“Keep tabs on you. On her.”
My hold tightens around the hunting knife. “So it was you. You were the one that told him where to find her?”
“Yes.”
From his mouth came our demise. He’s the reason she was taken from me.
My nostrils flare and with a serenity I surely don’t feel, I cross the basement back toward him and grasp his face, forcing his tongue out.
“With this tongue you wreaked havoc on my family and for that reason, I’m taking it from you.”
I snip.
Spurts of blood spray my face. It floods his mouth until he’s choking on it. I force his head back and clasp his throat in my hand, crushing his windpipe, all the while he looks me in the eyes. I want him to know it was me who took his life. I’m the reason he feels that pain.
When he stops gurgling and shuddering, I let go.
Slowly, I step back, staring at his still form, hate vibrating through my body.
I close my eyes and try to find the old me, the man Asteria fell in love with, but he’s too far gone, I’m afraid he won’t ever make his way back.
I’m not all that sure I want him to.
I pace my office. Fisting a hand in my hair, I tug, desperately trying to tamp down the anger. It’s been three days. Three fucking days of dead ends. Of taking countless lives, of searching every godforsaken estate in Scarsdale where Mateo could be hiding her.
I have nothing.
A growl rumbles through my chest and I pause at the window that overlooks her garden. My nostrils flare. The pain, the anger, they intensify. Growing stronger, until it feels like I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
Slamming my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I force myself to think like Mateo would. He wants to hurt me, that’s obvious. He wouldn’t go through all this trouble if he planned on killing her.
But there’s the chance he might.
And that’s what frightens me.
Not knowing his motives and where they lie when it comes to his daughter.
The shrill ring of a cell prompts an electric current to roll down my spine, jolting me out of my thoughts. With a frown, I cross the room and pick it up. The number is private and considering there’s no other way someone could’ve gotten this number, I have a hunch about who it could be. Swiping across the screen, I answer. My voice is hard and rough, giving away my emotions.
There’s a muffled sob on the other line, a scuffle of movement that has my heart jerking to life in my chest.
“Asteria?” I call out, demanding an answer.
More silence.
My jaw pulses with rage.
An aggravated sigh erupts down the line followed by a voice that has my hands balling into fists at my sides.
“She’s a little phone shy, this one is, but I promise, just give it a few more minutes. The show will be worth it.”
I growl, like a wild animal on the hunt.
“I’ll kill you.” The words are a promise. “Your head will be on my fucking mantle proudly.”
“Oh, son.” Mateo tsks, glee evident in his tone. “That head will be yours. You see, I have you right where I want you. I have the thing you love most in this world. My daughter and her precious, precious cargo. Congratulations, by the way.”
At the mention of the baby, my nostrils flare. My composure snaps and I reach for the nearest thing, hauling it at the wall. The glass ashtray shatters into pieces. My chest rises and falls, violence swimming through my veins.
Images flash behind my eyelids. Asteria bloodied and in pain. Her small form unconscious at Mateo’s feet.
Desperation claws at my chest.
Our baby.
“If you lay a hand on her, if you fucking hurt her, I will skin you alive.”
Mateo smiles. I can hear it in his voice. “Too late, Hades. It shouldn’t be long now.”
The threat has an arrow piercing my chest, stabbing my heart.
Giovanni and Romeo tear through my office door, ready for a fight, but pause when they see me hunched over my desk, fuming down at my phone. The wood cracks beneath my unrelenting grip on the edges.
Suddenly, Asteria’s blood-curdling scream erupts on the other end of the line. Ice slithers down my spine and worry spears my lungs.
“Don’t you touch her!” I threaten, feeling helpless from here.
I screw my eyes shut, listening to my wife struggle, listening to her writhe in agony.
“What did you…w-what did you give me?” she gasps out. Her scared words wrap savagely around my chest.
“Something that will aid with the process,” is all Mateo responds.
Dread invades every one of my senses.
“Tell me!” she yells, voice frantic, filled with horror.
“I told you I was getting rid of that thing once and for all. Should probably take my congratulations back, Azriel. It won’t be long now.”
“No!” Asteria’s sob fills my ears. “No, please. Please make it stop. Please!”
A red haze steals over my vision.
Macabre consumes me.
“I’m afraid it’s too late.”
My heart does something strange at that moment. It cracks listening to her torment. To her hurt.
“Hear that, Azriel? Do you hear your wife, fighting for her life? Fighting to hang onto the little life inside of her?” he taunts. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t kill her. Can’t say the same for your child, though.”
My grip on reality crumbles. Asteria’s cries fade in and out, intermingling with the ringing in my ears. The dark void that’s enveloping me roars louder and louder. Flashes of my wife’s smiles, her cheerful laughter and rounded stomach barrel into me. I grasp at the images of our future, of us holding our child, but they slip between my fingers, flaying my palms open like frayed rope.
Fear and pain entomb my heart in ice.
“Tell me where you are.”
He chuckles darkly, enjoying this. “I’m surprised not even you figured it out. Same place I killed your father.”
A crimson spill of ink fills my vision.
My hands ball into fists.
My body trembles.
“You’re dead,” I promise, keeping my voice cold as ice when I feel anything but.
“We’ll see about that,” he goads before the line goes dead. The last thing I hear is Asteria cut off mid-scream.
“What the fuck just happened?” Romeo whispers, eyes alight with vengeance, brimming with consternation.
“Get the jet prepped.”
“What’s happening?” Gio asks.
I pin him with a glare. “I know exactly where they are.”
Once the cramping and the stitching in my abdomen finally stopped, I must’ve fallen asleep. There were no dreams. No sweet relief. Just an endless pit of darkness. Vast and consuming.
Frightening.
Shifting on the hard ground, my body tenses in preparation when a wave of nausea barrels into me. Bile rises up my throat and unable to hold it back, I vomit beside my body. Once there’s no bile left in my stomach to vomit, I dry heave, racking the very life force from me. Blinking past the fatigue, my gaze clears, settling on something dark pooled around me.
I freeze.
My breath leaves me in a rush.
I glimpse down at my lower half and my heart stops.
“No, no, no.” I shake my head. My hands shake as I tap the pool of blood. It’s cold and thick to the touch. There’s no telling how long I’ve been laying in it.
My bottom lip quivers. Hysteria crawls up my throat.
Lifting a trembling hand, I stare down at it, realization settling in.
“Please, God, no!” I scream until my throat is raw.
Fighting past the pain and the fatigue weighing my body and subconscious down, I scoop up the blood, bringing the puddle toward me as if I can put it back inside me. As if I can rewrite time and fix it. Pretend like it never happened.
“I can fix this,” I mumble frantically under my breath. “I can fix it.”
I spread my legs, searching beneath me and my eyes screw shut. I feel the life leave my body. The fight.
Pain so strong, so destructive, barrels into me when I see the clots of blood. The filth I’m resting in. I sift through the blood clots and sob harder when I spot it. It’s tiny, barely there, but it breaks my heart all the same. My keening wails echo throughout my cell. I drop back onto the floor and roll onto my side, and I cry.
I clutch my hands to my chest, pressing them against the bone there, trying to ease the ache. The torture that is vivaciously tearing through my soul. Cleaving me to sheds. A wail so raw, so profound, tears from deep within my throat and it rattles the walls. It rattles the very foundation beneath me. It has the potential to raise the dead. To wake the gods.
Pounding footsteps grow closer. Then the jangle of keys. I don’t even pick my head up to check and see. I can’t.
The tears blurring my vision won’t let me.
“Fuck,” I hear an unfamiliar voice hiss. Boots thud closer and I glance toward the side, spotting the man who made me undress. He crouches near me. The light from the hallway shines behind his back like a spotlight.
There’s silence. No other voices.
Nothing.
If only I had the will to escape.
His hands are on me, searching. He’s cursing under his breath.
With what energy I have, I try to brush him off but it’s no use. He laughs like the attempt was funny.
“Don’t like me touching you? Is that it? No one’s here to save you. Not even Daddy.” His hands travel south, and he gropes me. Misery blooms in my chest. More tears drip from my eyes. I summon all my strength to fight him off, but it’s useless. He rolls on top of me, dragging me through my own blood. My own massacre.
“Bet you’re a hot little thing, huh? You did the impossible. Made the great Azriel Costa fall in love.”
My bottom lip quivers at the mention of Azriel. I picture his reaction to the loss of our baby. And it breaks my heart.
“But will he want you now? Will he still want you like this? What about with another man’s seed inside of you?” he breathes in my ear, dry humping me. His erection prods my thigh, causing my stomach to jolt, threatening to make me dry heave. “Oh, c’mon, sweetheart, a little blood never bothers me.” I try to buck him off, but he laughs. He snatches my throat and crushes my windpipe.
“I watched you grow up. Watched you grow into a beautiful woman. I say it’s time your daddy shares his prize.”
He unbuttons his pants and frees himself. I scream. Like a banshee. Like my life depends on it.
“Shut the fuck up!” His fist crashes into my face, silencing me. Stunned by the blow, it takes me a few seconds to gather my wits. He grasps me beneath my knees, spreading me open, trying to tug my soiled panties aside. I roll my head to the side, steeling myself for the violation to come. My gaze snags on the bold brass and leather handle of a knife attached to his belt and when he rolls back on top of me, I reach for it.
He laughs and clasps my wrist. He grasps so tight that I scream out and drop the knife.
“Such a bad, bad girl.” He praises me like this is a fun game.
Catching him off guard, I ram my knee into his groin and he howls with pain, rolling off me. I scramble away, but he grips my hair, dragging me back toward him. Blindly, I slap the floor for the knife and when I feel it, I grasp onto it like my entire life depends on it. I thrust it down, the blade meeting with little resistance.
The man’s eyes widen, he chokes. The knife’s handle sticks out of the side of his neck, defying gravity.
We both freeze.
My heart pounds frantically.
Horror crawls up and down my spine.
He falls backward, his hands flying to his neck, his mouth opens and closes like he’s saying something. My tears come harder and faster. With both hands he pulls the knife out and it clatters to the ground. Blood pours from the wound. It pools around him and when I feel the warmth touch me, my stomach churns. It intermingles with my own cold pool of blood. On unsteady legs, I push myself upright and grab the knife.
He sucks in his last lungful of air, choking and gurgling on the blood. I stumble back into the wall, panicking. A stifling silence engulfs me. He lies there, unmoving. His blank, void stare follows my every move.
Get out.
Run.
Run!
The unfamiliar voice in my head yells at me. Forcing me into action. I don’t question who it is or where it comes from. I stumble out of the room, up a narrow flight of steps. Blood drips from my body. My gory hands glide against the sides of the wall for support.
Without warning I lose the contents of my stomach, nauseous from the shock.
Coming to a landing, I pause, trying to see through unclear, blurry eyes. It’s a house. One I’ve never been in before. I glance left, then right, fear and urgency screaming at me to pick a side and go.
I stumble down the right side of the hall, trying to remain silent and search for an escape. I find it almost instantly. At the end of the hall is an old dining area. The furniture is coated in thick films of dust and cobwebs. The air reeks of mildew and dust motes. My heart lurches when I spot it to the left of the dining table. A pair of gilded doors that lead out into a sprawling backyard. The sun is just beginning to set behind the tree line in the distance.
I pause for only a moment to peer over my shoulder before I run. I take off at a sprint and I run across the open field of grass. I don’t stop when my ankle threatens to give out on me. I don’t stop when there’s a painful stitch in my side. I don’t stop even when it feels like my chest might explode. I don’t stop when I reach a wooded area. I keep running. Weaving through trees. Branches scrape at my flesh, tearing at me like they’re hands, talons, begging me to stay.
My body starts to slow. My vision shakes. My legs are unreliable and unsteady. The sound of a gunshot echoes around me and a bullet whizzes past my ear. A hoarse scream tears past my lips. I dart in another direction and clutch onto thick tree trunks for support, hoping to remain upright and out of sight.
Another shot rings out.
I turn the other way.
Another shot.
I turn the other way and in doing so, I collide into a solid wall. A scream of terror wrenches from my chest. Arms shoot out, trapping me. I slam the knife down blindly but a strong force catches my wrist midair, halting me.
“Asteria!” Powerful arms shake me. The voice penetrates through the panic. The darkness. The pain.
I focus on the figure in front of me and I choke out a sob.
“Azriel?” I whisper.
His eyes grow soft. They scan up and down my body. He takes in the blood coating my skin. The undressed state of my body. When he settles on the apex between my thighs and he sees the dried blood there, his nostrils flare. His jaw works back and forth.
For a second, I worry this is a cruel dream. This is a fever dream.
This can’t be real.
Maybe I died back in that room. In that pool of blood.
With his hand on my cheek, his soothing words pull me back to the present. “Cara mia, please.”
“This isn’t real.” I search his bright, beautiful eyes one last time.
He clasps my face tightly as though he’s afraid to let go. Pain ripples across his features. My eyes travel south and its then I notice all the blood soaking his clothes. He shakes my face, forcing me to glance back at him.
“It’s me, baby. I’m here. It’s me.”
The torment and the anger I see reflected back at me in those dark eyes are my undoing.
A sob cracks through my chest, and my legs give out in his embrace. He catches me, holding me up effortlessly. “I’m so sorry,” I cry. “I tried. I tried to hold on. I tried to make it stop, but I…but I couldn’t.”
Azriel clutches me tightly. He rests his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes. “This is not your fault.”
