Authors POV Once she got home, she quickly ran a warm shower and, as fast as she could, dabbed some foundation to cover up the bruises, and then instead of her nightgown, she opted for his pajamas and t-shirt so it could hide a lot from him.Before pouncing into bed, she stared at her broken self in the mirror, her fingers tracing her swollen chin.She shut her eyes away from the picture of hopelessness and pain. Was it possible, even for once, to live without pain and tears? To feel safe and confident enough about what the following day looked like.She heard his steps at the door, and she gasped, jumping under the sheets raising it over her head, and then holding her breath.He walked in then, although she couldn't hear his shoes which were quite surprising because he had made a lot of noise with them just outside of the door.After waiting a long time and she still didn't hear the showers turn on or the bed pressed, she hitched the covers a little to meet with an empty room.She fr
Elena fiddled with her fingers; it was over a couple of hours since the detectives left her office, but even then, she hadn't still found her composure.The pictures they had shown her, the words they had told her, It was apparent she was a suspect, and even her genuine reaction of shock and fear did nothing to change their mind.Detective Rick had gone gentle with her, even told her she didn't have to see the photos taken at the crime scene, but when she demanded it, he splayed it on her desk before her, watching her gasp in horror.Detective Rick wasn't playing around when he told her the murder was gruesome, bloody, and unlike what he had seen in all his days.So bad was it that although he had seen it in real, she thought she saw him shudder.Mason was tied to a pillar, only in bloody white underpants, drenched in blood and skin matter; his flesh had been peeled off, sliced to tiny bits, the raw red underneath gleaming plain and even more painful to the eye.His hands were decapit
Unmoved and unflinching, like he was just told the earth was round. She waited, listening to her breath, eyes on him with his chin held high; she wondered if he even heard what she said.Then finally, his face still poker, he drew breath in, "That isn't good,"She blinked at him, seeing he wasn't going to say anything else; she looked at the woman who was pushing cotton wool into a spirit container.It felt strange that the Doctor hadn't inquired about her injuries yet. Was she taking Nikolai's word for it? Well, he was president; he could buy her silence.Lowering her lashes, she continued, "There was no sign of a break-in; the method used on him was torture, something called Ling chi,"The doctor paused on Elena's arm, and when Elena raised her head, it was to see her staring at the president aghast.Nikolai raised a brow, his eyes boring into hers. "Doctor Clara, is there anything I can do for you?"The woman let out, "Ling chi, death by a thousand cuts, that is an extremely grueso
Settling her at the front of their room door, he didn't bother to look into her face before he turned and left, hearing the door quietly snap shut behind him. She had a clue; it was apparent, all thanks to the expression on her face. The painting explained itself: it was a raw message, probably agonizing like the cut on her upper lip. He hadn't known what had come over him; he had tried to escape the rage when Noah spilled the news. And then he went to see for himself but met her hiding under the covers, shaking like a leaf and holding her breath. That did it. He felt the self-control he had worked years to build break into dust. He would give it to Mason. The man was strong-willed in refusing to spill out the name of his friend. Confirming his suspicions that the wild animal was no ordinary person. But he had a piece of advice for him: keep running. Whatever had gone on last night had ruined everything—his pretense, his composure—and every demon he tried to pin down was flail
Elena's POV.The night before, I had slept off, hoping to start my day as early as possible before he woke up, or even dreamt of it, Going into his office, then maybe searching.Searching for? You might ask, but I, too, didn't know; there had to be something, something that would either get me relaxed or running for my life.Consider my shock when I slowly opened my eyes to find him sitting next to my bed, a glass of scotch in his hand, while he stared at the smudged painting of Mia he had hung on our wall.I had wanted to ask him why he had done that when he could have easily made another one, but like all of his actions recently, It was hard to understand.Like why he was holding a glass of scotch in the wee hours of the morning.It was shocking to see him sitting there calmly rolling the cup and doing nothing, but I felt too paralyzed to jerk.Out of habit, my eyes moved to my alarm clock; now I was sure my alarm was being disabled, for I remembered setting it up after watching Doc
Authors POVClara knew what she said when she demanded if he was planning on getting caught, Nico thought, Signing and grimacing as he read through the pages.Elena didn't just have a clue or suspect; she was set to prove her assumptions, true or untrue, which was an audacious but wrong move.He had his hands tied; he couldn't do anything about her."Why does Matteo have to go to school every time?" Mia asked, pressing the round solid surface against the paper, her little hands holding the handle firmly.And unlike he did to others, he raised his head to answer her question; It was wild how she overturned his concentration and drew all his attention."To learn, the books won't read themselves."She shrugged, "That bad,"He folded his hands before him, peering into her busy face; if he continued like this, he would never get any job done, "Why is it bad?"She shrugged, "he comes back and continues studying."Now that wasn't his or any teacher's fault; Matteo's other half was his maths
Elena's POV.I relaxed against the chair, hating how uncomfortable I had been since we fought last night. That was the first he had gotten pissed at me, the first he had raised his voice.All of this was because I refused to get paid for being stupid for three years, it was a lot of money, and probably the reasonable thing to do was take it and stash it somewhere for when all of this was over.But then, my pride wouldn't let me; I wasn't sure if it was because I cared what he thought of me or that I didn't want him gifting me a lot that I couldn't repay.Then I would be indebted to him and become a puppet like I was to Alessandro. He had angrily reminded me he wasn't Alessandro, but then how would I know?Especially when he was bent on interchanging occasionally; even Noah had told me not to get attached.Then why did I see him in all of my dreams last night? Why did I relish the memory of his hands caressing my body, his fingers around my neck, stroking the base of it and muttering f
It was dark already, yet my hands shook as I gnawed on my fingers from the fear that enveloped me. The image still stuck in my head; it didn't help that there had been no call regarding how he was.The country was at a standstill, reporters screaming into the mic, standing close to the heavily guided Quirinal palace, all of which I watched without hearing anything. My knees shook at the thought that he was dead.Immediately after the accident, Matteo was snatched out of school like I was pulled out of work and surrounded until I got into the car.Now the three of us were on lockdown, not allowed to move out of the house. School was paused for Matteo, which wouldn't be a big deal since they'd be closing the next day anyway.The kids were sleeping in their room when I left quietly, shutting the door, still hugging the phone to myself, waiting for a call, any call that would ease the unease raging in my head.I sat right at the center of the bed, my knees raised to my chin, and each time