The Mafia Lord's Spitfire Captive
I struggled, but his grip held firm.
“Look at him,” the man said, his tone cold and empty. “Look at how powerless he is.”
“Dante!” I screamed, my voice cracking with terror. “Help me!”
Dante thrashed against the chains, his eyes burning with rage. “Let her go!” he bellowed. “Take me instead!”
The man laughed, a sound that chilled me to my core. “No, Dante. You’ll watch.”
The blade pressed against my throat, sharp and unyielding. I whimpered, my body trembling. My gaze locked on Dante’s, his face twisted in anguish.
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