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9. Insanity Training

Penulis: Erika Lana Bell
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-04-30 22:57:01

I strip out of my blouse with trembling fingers and toss it across the back of the chair like it personally betrayed me.

It’s been hours since I sliced Hale’s face and got slammed to the floor like a rag doll in a horror movie. Since I felt his mouth on me—his tongue, his teeth—since my body betrayed me in the most disgusting, humiliating, sinfully hot way.

And I still can’t stop shaking.

Not from fear.

From fury.

From the fact that I liked it. No—my body liked it. I hated it.

My brain screams, He’s your captor, you idiot. He’s the one with the leash. The one who bled my family dry. The one whose breath made my skin crawl until it didn’t.

And now he has me dressing in the sluttiest “athletic wear” known to mankind like it’s some sick joke.

I glance at the mirror and scowl.

The black sports bra is criminal. It’s cut low enough to make my cleavage look like a damn mountain range, and tight enough to lift what doesn’t even need lifting. The leggings are second-skin tight and slick like o
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  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   51. Detecting Lies

    Hale’s POVShe doesn’t stop fighting—not even for a second. And this shouldn’t come as a surprise to me.Her heel catches my shin with a force intended to break—though failed—but I keep moving. My grip on her arm is locked to make sure she can’t get a second of opportunity to make a run for it.She claws at me, nails like goddamn razors, tearing into my forearm. She manages to connect—twice—streaking my tattoos with my own blood.It’s a good thing. Pain keeps me focused.Because if I let myself feel anything else, I might hesitate. And that is the last thing I can afford now. I’ve already lost too much focus with her already. Got sidetracked because my dick worked harder than my fucking brain.She grunts and thrashes again, twisting in my hold like a rabid animal. “You fucking psycho! Let me go!”My jaw’s clenched too tight, and my head’s not here—not fully, anyway. It’s in the garden. In the dirt beneath the daisies where that second phone was buried. To the letter she thought she ma

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   50. A Dangerous Message

    Hale brushes past me without saying another word. I hear his boots scrape the gravel, feel the air shift as he crosses to the edge of the courtyard, where the ivy climbs and the daisy bush waits in its pathetic little patch of obviously disturbed earth.I don’t follow.I don’t move at all.My feet stay rooted in place like they know that whatever happens next, moving won’t help. It’s too late to do anything about it now.Hale stands in front of the bush for a moment, like he’s studying it. The way the leaves tilt. The soil line. The rock.Then he lowers himself. He peers over his shoulder at me with a menacing smirk—one that said I was in a shit-ton of trouble right now. With his eyes trained on me, his hand brushes aside the daisy stems, fingers moving in a way that makes my throat tighten.Trying my best not to show how deeply his stare was seeping into my bones—how I felt in that moment—I snort, saying, “Yeah, yeah. You’ve proven your point.”His damn smirk only stretched wider. Th

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   49. Hellbringer Comes Knocking

    The sun casts a blade of light across the courtyard stones, but it’s not enough to chase off the cold bleeding through my spine right about now.Hale holds it between two fingers. That damn letter. The one I folded into a triangle and shoved behind the chipped tile in the bathroom wall.My lungs forget their job. My pulse starts to drum wickedly against my ribs.I force a smile, not willing to let him see how stressed I was in that moment. My voice slithers from my throat, laced with venom dressed as charm. “I have no idea what you’re on about.”Unblinking, he studies me for a long moment. “Hmmm. Is that so?” he murmurs. “Shame. I was hoping for a little honesty between husband and wife.”His words crawl over my skin.Husband and wife.I square my shoulders and force the will to glare up at him. “You want honesty?” I bite out, arms folding across my chest. “I miss my father. Got a problem with that?”There. Let’s see how that lands.The tension in his body pulls tighter, more obvious.

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   48. Check The Daisies

    Cali’s pov. The door shuts behind me with a soft click.I lean against it for a second, chest rising and falling fast, the air trapped inside my throat. My fingers shake.Not from Hale’s hands forcing food down my throat while I had to sit on his lap—painfully aware of something growing beneath my ass.No—it’s because of the letter.The one I tucked under the strap of my bra. The one he has no idea I took.My skin feels cold, of thinking how close he was to discovering the letter. Hale held me in place, hand tight at my waist, other one cutting up food and stuffing it into my mouth. But every time his arm moved, every time his fingers brushed close to the side of my breast, I thought he’d feel it. The edge of paper. Or the crackling noise it made if I—or he—moved too fast.He would’ve undressed me again. Or worse, since the letter was from my father—the man he hates the most—I’m certain the punishment would’ve topped all of the previous ones.But, he didn’t notice it.Thank God, he d

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   47. Pricks Everywhere

    I shut the office door behind me and press the latch until it clicks.One second.Two.Silence.I let the tension bleed off my shoulders. My jaw’s still tight. My pulse hasn’t dropped.I cross the room and sit, slowly, like I’m not two seconds from unzipping my pants and jerking off to the memory of a woman trying to claw my face off.The slap still tingles across my cheek. Not painful—just present. The kind of heat that lingers long after the contact’s gone. I can still feel the precise sting of her fingers across my skin. That sharp little sound. That moment her lips parted with rage and her whole body snapped forward to hit me like it’s meant to prove a point—or to mean something.It did.Fuck, it did.I lean back in my chair, adjusting my pants with a grimace. My cock’s still half-hard. I press the heel of my palm over it, annoyed. It doesn’t do much but annoy me right now. It throbs with memory—her flushed face, eyes wide and feral, lips parted in disbelief right before she storm

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   46. Unravel

    Hale’s pov.“Are you gonna tell me what the fuck you’re doing?” I repeat, more sternly this time.Cali’s grip tightens around whatever she’s holding, and she lifts her chin to glare at me like I have the audacity to interrupt her.I cross the room in two long strides and rip the phone from her hands before she can shove it down her waistband or behind her back like a damn teenager caught red-handed. She doesn’t resist, but her eyes stay locked on the device like it’s oxygen and I just yanked the tank.“Answer the question,” I growl, low and even. “What the hell are you doing?”She leans back on her hands like she’s lounging, like this is some casual misunderstanding instead of an outright violation. Her mouth lifts in that arrogant half-smile I want to slap off her face and kiss at the same time.“I figured,” she speaks slowly, “since I’m the woman of the house now, I’m allowed to go through the mail.”I arch a brow. “Cute. Try again.”Her smile widens, but there’s tension under it. T

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   45. The Package

    Hale is nowhere to be seen when I wake.The light outside the window says it’s late morning, but no one’s come pounding on my door or screaming at me to get dressed, eat, train, or pretend to be grateful. Strange. I don’t trust silence in this house—because it’s never just silence. It’s always the start of something.What that may be—I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.I drag myself out of bed, pull on a black hoodie over my tank top, and shove my legs into a pair of leggings. I don’t bother brushing my hair. I’m too tired to play Mrs. Holt today. If Hale has a problem with that, then he can bite my ass.I’m barely dressed when a knock comes. To my surprise, the person on the other side goes quite. They don’t come in, either.Hesitant, I call out, “Yes?”“May I come in, Mrs. Holt?” It’s the butler.Well, if that isn’t a first. “Yes, come in.”A moment later, the door clicks open and the butler walks in like he’s an aspiring ghost impersonator. Quiet—with his head turned down.“Mrs. H

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   44. Pain Is Not Always Gain

    The humiliation hasn’t faded.It clings to my skin like sweat, soaked deep into every pore, heavy and suffocating. No matter how fast I move, how many doors I slam, or how hard I dig my nails into my palms just to ground myself—every effort for relief is fruitless.The worst part—it wasn’t hale’s invasion to my body that haunts me the most.It’s the sound I made.That one broken moan I couldn’t swallow in time. That sharp, needy gasp that cut through the air as his fingers curled inside me and my whole body responded like it had been waiting for it.Fifteen minutes. That’s all he gave me to recover.Fifteen damned minutes to get dressed, get out, and pretend like he hadn’t pushed me to the edge of orgasm on his fucking desk and then walked away without looking back.I don’t shower. I don’t wipe off the heat that still clings to my thighs. I don’t even try to fix my expression. Let them see it—let them see how fucking wrecked I am and assume it’s from the bruises and not the shame.By

  • Burn For Me : Bound By The Mafia King   43. Bite Of Fury

    I see it in the clench of his jaw, in the shift of his weight—in the damned way his gaze drops lower.It’s purely predatory.“Don’t you even fucking think about it,” I bite out, my breathing shallow.His lips curl into something dark. It isn’t a smile. More like a warning of what’s to come.Oh, for fuck sake.And then he moves.I try to scramble back, instinct kicking in hard and fast, but I don’t get far. He’s faster. Stronger. Always one step ahead, and I hate him for it. He grabs me like I’m nothing, spins me, and throws me forward across the desk. My chest slams into the cold wood. My cheek follows a heartbeat later.I thrash, but it’s useless. His arm locks around my waist, anchoring me. His other hand pins my wrists against the surface, forcing my body to stretch out, naked and exposed.“Son of a—” My voice breaks on a hiss as he tightens his grip.He laughs—low, amused, cruel. “This is what happens when you try to sneak weapons.”“This is abuse,” I snap, voice venomous, face ho

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