A promise in blood

Scarlett's POV

Christian didn’t wait for me to find my footing. He wrapped his fingers around the chain connecting my handcuffs and yanked me off the stage. I stumbled, my bare feet scraping against the hard marble, but he didn't care. He dragged me through the stunned, silent crowd of bidders like a prized kill with long strides. His grip on me hurt but what hurt most was the fact that despite all the pain I and my son had gone through because of him, he was still acting like the victim.

"Christian, stop! Please!" I begged, my voice cracking as I struggled to keep up in the skimpy slip dress. "I have to—"

I almost said it. The name of my son almost left my lips, but I choked it back down. If Christian found out about Leo, if he looked into those stormy gray eyes and saw his own reflection... I squeezed my eyes shut, a cold sweat breaking over my skin. I would die before I let the mafia touch my baby.

Christian pushed me hurriedly into the car despite my pleas and climbed in beside me. My voice was quickly swallowed by the roaring engine of the black SUV waiting outside. The door slammed shut.

Christian sat beside me, composed, satisfied and cold. I eventually stopped begging and the car moved in silence while he kept his head forward. He turned his head slowly, his stormy eyes locking onto mine. Then his large, leather-gloved hand gripped the back of my neck, his fingers tangling roughly into my hair. He pulled me closer until my chest slammed against his solid frame.

"Four years, Scarlett," he growled. My breathing hitched. After everything this devil had made me go through, my body still responded to him so easily. His gaze dropped to my lips, heavy with a dark hunger that made my stomach flip. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin right beneath my ear, his hot breath making my breath hitch. "Salvatore's priceless princess is mine. Tonight and always. You belong in my cage, princess."

I whimpered as the familiar scent of rain, expensive leather, and his dark cologne flooded my senses, waking up that pathetic longing I fought every night. I gripped his jacket, my fingers curling into the expensive fabric as a soft gasp escaped my mouth. His grip on my hair tightened, a dark, possessive smirk touching his lips as he felt my submission. But just as quickly, he shoved me back against the seat, his eyes turning cold again. "Enjoy the ride.”

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The SUV finally ground to a halt. When the door was opened, my breathing seized. We were parked right outside my father’s massive estate, the one he usually brought me to, here in Chicago for the holidays. The iron gates were pushed open, and the front lawn was littered with the bodies of several of my father's guards. I gasped as I took in the pitiful and gruesome mess. A bloody coup had taken place while I was on that auction block.

Christian hauled me out of the car by my chains, dragging me up the grand steps, through the shattered glass of the foyer, and straight toward the formal dining room.

He kicked the doors open.

The air inside reeked of copper and gunpowder. There, tied to two heavy dining chairs beneath the glittering chandelier, were my father and Beatrice. Salvatore looked almost unrecognizable. The terrifying Underboss was beaten, bloody, and reduced to a trembling old man. Beatrice was sobbing hysterically through a gag.

I froze, a choked gasp escaping my throat. I hadn't seen my father in four long years. I had shut him out to protect Leo, but seeing him like this made me regret it all. He lifted his bruised face and when his eyes landed on me, his eyes dilated with a tragic softness.

"Scarlett... my beautiful girl..." he croaked, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his face. "You're here... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, princess..."

Hearing the old adoration in his voice broke something inside me. He had nothing to be sorry for. He'd been the best father he could be, for a man as depraved as he was. It was Christian who needed his apology but I the look in his eyes showed he wouldn't listen to it, not after so many horrible years. For that moment, he was just my father. Nothing else mattered. Tears blurred my vision as I walked towards him.

Christian pulled my chain and stepped between us, letting the heavy iron chains rattle to the floor. He smoothly unholstered his black firearm, the exact one he cleaned on the night I had offered him my body in his bedroom. He didn't look at me. He kept his eyes locked on my father, a wicked smile forming on his lips.

"Ah, reunions can be so touching," Christian’s voice echoed through the silence of the room. "But unfortunately, Salvatore, your time is up."

"Christian... please," My father choked out, looking from the barrel of the gun to me. "She's your sister... she's family..."

"She was never my family," Christian hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper. He raised the gun, pointing it to the spot between father’s eyes. “She was always your princess. And I'm going to break her everyday so that you never have peace, even in your grave.”

“Christian!” I yelled.

Bang.

The deafening gunshot echoed in the room. Beatrice’s muffled shrieks turned into frantic wails.

My father's head snapped back, his eyes rolling over as his body went limp against the ropes. Blood splattered across the white linen tablecloth, dripping down onto the marble floor and staining the hem of my floor-length slip.

"No!" I screamed, the sound tearing from my raw throat. I fell to my knees, staring at the corpse of my father. The blood pooled closer and closer to my bare feet.

Christian slowly holstered his weapon. He stepped over the pooling blood, closing the distance between us until his towering shadow completely blocked out the light. He reached down, his rough hand gripping my jaw. He looked down at me, forcing me to look away from the lifeless body and straight into the eyes of the man that made me an orphan.

Something dark and primal flashed in his eyes.

"Now, you're mine," Christian whispered, his thumb digging into my cheek. "Completely."

“Never…I'll never be yours!” I whispered, tears cascading down my eyes.

“You already are Scar. I bought you.”

A fire ignited deep in my chest, burning away the panic, burning away the fear. I looked into the eyes of the monster who had used me, abandoned me, and just slaughtered my blood in front of me. He thought he had broken me. He thought he owned me.

But as I stared back at him, I made a silent, sacred vow to myself.

I am going to kill you, Christian. I will take my time, I will find my son, and then I will put a bullet through your heart.