Dirty Revenge

by Ella Miles

  I turn slowly, trying to show appreciation in my eyes, as I look at Dante.

  “Thank you.”

  He stowes the knife in his back pocket. I try not to look too eager to know where he hides a weapon. As much as I want to go over to him now and steal the knife, I won’t. It would be easy enough to distract him with a kiss while retrieving it from his pocket. I resist. It won’t get me anywhere. Even if I killed him, his men would attack me. I would never get out alive. And if I missed, I would have to deal with his wrath. I would have played my cards too early.

  No, I need to wait. Have patience. Get him to trust me and let his guard down.

  “This way, whore,” he says, snapping his fingers.

  I follow, still getting used to having my hands free again. When I catch up to him, I hook one of my hands around his arm.

  His lips curl up a little, but otherwise, he doesn’t react. I’m used to hanging onto men I don’t have feelings for. I’ve played the interested, hot woman too many times for my father or brothers. I know how to distract men.

  And I do just that as Dante leads me around his house, showing off various pieces of art or views he thinks are impressive. They aren’t. Nothing in this house is remarkable.

  “I have one more room to show you. I think it will be your favorite,” he says, his voice deeper than it’s been.

  I know what room he is talking about. A bedroom. I know what’s coming. Dante isn’t a patient man. He wants what he paid for. He wants to fuck me. This is the moment that will define our relationship. I need to jump on him, seem needy and wanting before he has a chance to rape me. I need to be the one to initiate the sex. Even if it destroys me to pretend.

  We walk down a long hallway, and I try to pretend I’m walking down a hallway in the Carini mansion. I try to think of my niece. How beautiful she is. I need to fight to get back to her. She deserves to have me as an aunt who will spoil her and take her shopping.

  But even thoughts of the most precious creature on the planet can’t hold my attention when he opens the door to the room at the end of the hallway.

  It’s not a bedroom.

  Well, there is a bed in the room, but I wouldn’t call it a bedroom. It’s a torture chamber.

  Whips line the walls. Ropes, chains, handcuffs. Poles topped with metal hoops stand throughout the room, for restraints to be tied to. Walking around the room, inspecting the equipment, I stop when I get to sharper, bloody devices. Blood from other women tortured in this room. I can’t think about this.

  Dante is darker than I ever imagined. He has a twisted soul. Fucking him won’t be enough to save me. I have to be willing to let him beat and torture me.

  I turn back to Dante, with a wicked smile on my face, and walk calmly toward him.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, and he raises an eyebrow while staring down at me. His eyes are burning with dark desire.

  I run my thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re into BDSM. Good thing, I’m the queen of BDSM.”

  This goes well beyond a healthy BDSM relationship. This is a sick fetish. Even if he was doing these things to women consensually, there is something very wrong with a man that wants to torture a woman this badly.

  I continue my plan though, keeping my breathing and heart steady as I raise my lips to his and kiss him.

  I try to keep pleasant thoughts in my head so that he won’t sense my disgust.

  Mr. Conti pops into my head. He’s a good-looking man. He’s a fiend, but better looking than Dante.

  I pretend I’m kissing Conti. I drop the mister from my head because it seems too formal. Conti kisses me harder, sweeping his tongue into my mouth, letting me know how much he needs to be in control of my body.

  I can’t hold the image long in my head, and slowly I pull away when Dante returns to my vision. I keep my hand on his neck, trying my best to show affection. I bite my lip and watch his eyes burn into my lip.

  “I must admit, this is a fantasy of mine. Being taken by a handsome man like you. Tortured, fucked, like only a man like you can fuck. I want this. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it, master.”

  Dante grabs my wrist, and I think he’s going to give in to my words and body. His eyes and cock pressing hard into my stomach say as much.

  I smile seductively. Trying to force him to give into his desire for me instead of the darker, controlling side.

  Before I realize what’s happening, I’m thrown hard into the wall behind me, and I crumple to the floor.

  My head is pounding, and I feel the blood oozing down my back.

  I don’t know what I hit my head on, but it was hard and sharp.

  Dante takes his time strutting over to me. He has more patience than I thought.

  “Stand up, whore.”

  I don’t know how he expects me to stand. I can barely see. He’s merely a haze of a shadow in front of me.

  I try to scramble to my feet, but the dizziness drops me back on my ass, and I hit my head again.

  “I said, stand,” he commands.

  I try, but it’s an impossible task.

  He grabs my wrist, jerking me to my feet, and I swear I feel bones cracking in my wrist.

  “I don’t play games with my whores. You aren’t my first. I’ve had hundreds, and I know every game in the book. You will not win. I will destroy you.”

  I nod because I think it’s what he wants, and I can’t take another hit. I know I have a concussion. Possibly a broken skull or wrist. I can’t think straight. I can’t see. I’m not even sure if I exist, or if any of this is real.

  I’m either dead or about to be raped. And I pray I’m already dead. Either way, I’m in hell.

  4

  Gia

  Days. Weeks. Months.

  I have no idea how much time has passed since Dante stole me.

  Time means nothing anymore.

  I thought I was a force to be reckoned with. I thought I would fight every second of every day for my freedom. Dante taught me how mistaken I was.

  Most seconds I can’t even lift my head up off the ground. I can’t stand. I can’t see.

  Seconds are how I measure my life. I can’t think beyond that.

  This second, I’m lying on the cold floor of the torture room. I haven’t left since I arrived. There are no windows. No bathroom. No light.

  It’s a dark room, but I welcome the pitch-black. It helps me sleep at all hours of the day, which is the only reason I’m still breathing.

  Sleep has been my savior.

  I hear footsteps outside my door. Dante said he had a surprise in store for me when he returned. Was that hours, or days, ago?

  Dante’s surprises aren’t surprises. He’s given me half a dozen surprises already, and they all involved bringing in more men to share in the ‘fun,’ as he calls it.

  Dante talks like he hasn’t broken me yet. Like I still have a fighting spirit he hasn’t figure out how to tame yet.

  He’s wrong. I’m broken. Physically I know I have dozens of broken bones. My left wrist flops when Dante ties me up, my right knee shattered when Dante whacked me with a bat. I’m not sure I have any ribs left intact after Dante kicked me numerous times in the chest.

  I have nothing left to fight for.

  Even if I did survive, I would be a hollow shell compared to the woman I was before. I would go through my days staring into the abyss, my mind most definitely stuck in the dungeon my body is trapped in now.

  Yes, occasionally I gather enough strength to spit in someone’s face, bite a finger, or give a swift kick to a groin, if I’m really in a fighting mood. But it’s not fighting. It’s revenge.

  I don’t care if I die anymore. I just need Dante and Roman to suffer.

  The door crashes open, rattling the doorframe, as steady boots stomp inside my cage.

  I used to shutter at such sounds, but I no longer do. I don’t care if Dante is here or if he’s gone. It makes no difference. I no longer feel pain. I feel nothing.

  Lights flick on
, and I close my eyes. The light too bright for me to keep my swollen eyes open.

  “Such a good whore. You are exactly where I left you.”

  I don’t answer. Where did Dante expect me to go? I have a broken leg, and he tied my legs with shackles to the post behind me. I didn’t have any options but to stay exactly where he left me: naked and slumped on the floor.

  “Stand, whore.”

  I can’t stand, idiot.

  I feel Dante’s eyes burning into me. I expect the kick will come soon, but I don’t brace myself for it.

  “No,” I spit back. Maybe I’m feeling more defiant than I realized.

  The kick jerks my body backward and hard against a wall. Other than my body moving, I don’t feel the pain I would expect from being kicked with solid boots at full force. It’s all the same pain to me.

  It benefits me. I no longer whimper or groan. I give Dante none of the sounds that turn him on. Now, he tries harder to evoke those sounds from me. He’ll keep attempting until I’m dead.

  Maybe today will be that day?

  No.

  That word has hovered around in my head and heart every time I’ve wished I was dead.

  No.

  I don’t know why. I don’t know where the hope or strength comes from, but it floats through my body, filling my soul, all the same.

  No.

  “Stand, whore.”

  “No.”

  “I told you she had a spirit, unlike any woman I’ve ever had. She’s been here a month, and she never breaks. In fact, she may have grown stronger. She controls her whimpers for the most part, but today, I think that will change.”

  Another kick to the ribs. This one doesn’t send me flying back. I’m already against the wall. I hear something cracking in my body. What was it this time? More ribs? My leg? Or my skull cracking?

  No. No. No. Don’t focus on the tiny slivers of pain creeping in. I’m dead. Nothing can hurt me.

  I feel the tears starting in my eyes. I don’t know how they formed. I’m dehydrated from crying so much when I first got here. I thought all my tears were empty.

  One month, Dante said. Have I really been here that long?

  It seems like longer and shorter at the same time.

  One month. Has Matteo or Arlo realized I’m gone yet? I told Matteo I would be gone for a month. After not hearing from me, or my security team, for this long, would he come for me finally? How much longer do I have to hold on?

  Another kick.

  A low growl.

  Wait…a growl? Did I make that sound?

  My puffy eyes flicker open, as wide as I can bring them. I don’t have access to a mirror, but I don’t doubt I look bad. My face has to be all sorts of shades of reds, blacks, and yellows, as different parts of my face are in different phases of healing. And my cheeks, in particular, are at least twice the size they usually are.

  I see men. At least five standing over me. I don’t bother to count the exact number. That should scare me. It doesn’t.

  One more kick.

  And this time I definitely hear the growl. It’s not mine. My head darts in the direction of the sound. My eyes are too clouded to see clearly, but I swear I see an angel.

  “Mr. Conti, would you like a turn?” Dante says, lust dripping off his voice.

  Mr. Conti. A vision creeps in, one I’ve played over and over in my head. Mr. Conti barges into the dungeon with my brothers. He apologizes profusely, telling me he never wanted to turn me over to Dante. He had to, to save me later. But now that Conti’s here, standing over me, I realize it was a stupid dream that will never become a reality.

  Mr. Conti moves forward, and he still looks like an angel in my eyes. A cloud of fog forms around his head, shining brightly in the darkness of the world I’m trapped in. I know it’s just my eyes playing tricks on me, but he was the culprit. He was the one who growled. He didn’t like what Dante was doing to me. This man won’t hurt me. I don’t care why he’s here; he won’t hurt me.

  A sly grin forms on Conti’s face, and it warms me a second.

  Then I’m kicked. Hard into the wall.

  And the illusion of Conti being an ally shatters. He’s as much of a monster as any man in this room.

  “Now stand, whore,” Dante says.

  “Don’t you think if I could stand, I would? I want nothing more than to look you all in the eyes so that when I do get free, I will know who to torture and kill.”

  Men chuckle. Not Conti. His eyes never leave mine. His jaw twitches and I swear his eyes are trying to tell me something, but I have no idea what.

  He’s not on my side. No one is. It’s just my imagination.

  Dante snaps his fingers, and I’m on my feet. Hands grip my arms too tightly, and I try to balance on my uninjured leg only to realize it’s just as useless as my other leg. When did Dante break my other leg? How did I miss that?

  “Oh whore, today I share you, but tonight, you’re mine alone,” Dante says in my ear before biting my earlobe.

  He’s never gentle. Not even for a second. He’s relentless in his pursuit to cause me harm. It never stops. I don’t know how he has the energy to hurt me while still keeping up with his job.

  “On the bed,” Dante orders.

  Hands drag me to the bed. Shackles release from my legs. No longer needed with five powerful men in the room. Not that it was needed before. I couldn’t walk, but I guess Dante thought I would crawl.

  I’m spread open, something that used to embarrass me now seems like nothing.

  Look at my body you disgusting cunts! Look at what a beautiful woman you are breaking, and tell me how you would like your karma handed to you for what you’ve done. The words form in my head, but I don’t think I have the strength to make them leave my mouth.

  “The guest of honor can have his way with her first,” Dante says.

  I don’t care who the guest of honor is. They will all rape me. Defile me. Break me.

  No.

  I won’t let them break me.

  Conti moves in close, settling between my legs, grabbing them with his hands. He’s going to be the first to rape me. I pull hard once. It’s all the energy I have. One of my legs gets free, and I kick Conti in the side. He doesn’t move. It was a weak kick. I’m surprised I even had the strength.

  The grips on my arms and legs tighten as I’m spread wider for him. His clothes are still on, but the men don’t usually reveal anything but their cock to me. While I’m naked. Always.

  I watch as Conti begins to undo his pants and a single tear trickles down my cheek. I hate the damn tear. And I don’t even have arms to wipe it away. Every man here can see my weakness.

  It’s been a long time since I cried. Or felt anything. But watching as my angel turns back into the devil has done it.

  I close my eyes tightly. I won’t open them again. I need to find a happy place to survive. But there is no memory or dream left which can take me away from here. I need to sleep. But I can’t.

  I open my eyes again. I can’t help myself. I need to see Conti turn into the monster I knew he always was. I need to make sure he’s added firmly to my revenge list, instead of living in my fantasies.

  Smack. A hand shoots fire against my face. One of the hardest assaults I’ve ever experienced. My head is spinning, and I can’t open my eyes.

  Conti punched me in the face. He’s too much of a coward to rape me fully conscious. Asshole.

  I start drifting in and out of consciousness, but I won’t fully let sleep consume me. I’ll remember every moment of this, while I play brutal images of what I will do to Conti when I get free. He’s a bigger monster than all the rest. And now I know I’m really on my own.

  5

  Caspian

  “Leave,” I say.

  The men in the room stutter, not sure what to do as they look to Dante to give them orders.

  “Leave!” I shout.

  The men let go of Gia’s hands and legs and leave the dark room. Dante is the last to leave, but h
e doesn’t say anything as he eventually leaves me alone with Gia.

  I rest between her stretched legs that are no doubt broken, but it doesn’t stop me from pushing her wider.

  She moans.

  I lean down and kiss her lips. Lips I’ve been desperate to taste since she fell into my lap weeks ago.

  Her lips are soft and delicious, but it’s not what I want. I want her to kiss me back.

  I lower my lips tasting her neck, breasts, and stomach.

  And then I pull my rock hard cock out of my pants. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t fuck her, but I can’t stop myself.

  I’m desperate for her.

  She’s all I’ve thought about for the last four weeks. I almost did something incredibly stupid. I wanted to steal her from Dante before he touched her, but it would have fucked up all my plans. So I didn’t. I let him touch her.

  I growl.

  That was a mistake I won’t repeat. She’s mine.

  I’m not a better man than Dante. In fact, I might be worse. I let an innocent woman suffer when I could have done something to stop it, but I chose not to.

  “Gia Carini, you will be mine. You don’t belong to Dante. You belong to me.”

  She whimpers.

  She hates me, just as she does Dante. And I deserve her wrath.

  I should stop, but I have to have a taste of her. I have to fuck her. I can’t stop myself.

  My cock sinks into her slit; wet and welcoming. I don’t know what she’s dreaming about, but it’s dirty if her cunt is this slick for me. I sure didn’t do anything to turn her on.

  Beautiful.

  The most beautiful, fierce woman on the planet lies beneath me, encircling my cock. I should stop. But I can’t. Dante didn’t break her, but I can. First, I’ll steal her; then I’ll destroy her.

  I walk up the stairs to the front door with my team encircling the house. My sister and second best, Terence, stand behind me.

  Today, everything changes. Dante’s team will be taken out and replaced by a team I hired for him. Dante wanted to do all the killing himself, but he realized he couldn’t. So instead, he took out his most valuable men in the darkness of last night. Today, everyone else dies in the daylight.