Lucien's POV
I threatened her with her family—and she reacted just the way I expected.
Panic in her eyes, defiance in her posture.
I had her pinned against the door before she could even think to run. My face buried in the crook of her neck—God, she smelled so fucking good. Like something I shouldn't want but craved anyway.
I couldn't let her go. Not yet. I had to taste her, even if just a little.
She squirmed, tried to push me away. Futile.
Her resistance was pathetic. If she really wanted to stop me, she'd have to do more than just flail.
My lips traced the delicate skin of her neck, trailing down to her shoulder when I noticed it—
A mark. Red. Fresh. Still healing.
That wasn't there before.
I'd studied her like a hawk before she got here.
I'd seen her every damn day from the shadows. That mark wasn't part of her.
"Who touched you?" My voice was low. Deadly. The kind of tone that made grown men piss themselves.
She looked at the mark, lips sealed, but I didn't need a damn confession. I already knew.
"Do not leave this room unless you're told to. Don't even think of escaping—you'd be caught before you hit the stairs." I shoved her away from the door and stormed off.
I didn't need to guess. I needed to confirm.
Back in my room, I pulled up the hidden surveillance footage. No one knew about the extra cameras. Not even my guards.
And there it was—Angelo. That rat-fuck bastard. His hands on what's mine. I'd ignored his sins before. Let him get away with too much. But this? This was a death sentence.
---
Warehouse – Later
He sat tied to a chair, sweat dripping down his pale face. He already knew.
"How foolish you are," I said, stepping into the room.
"Boss, I'm so sorry," he stammered, head lowered. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean—"
I cut him off with a smirk.
---
Angelo's POV
I didn't get it. Why did he care so much about her?
I just wanted a taste. I thought he'd toss her away like all the other girls—used and discarded. Hell, I'd screwed half the maids around here and he'd never said a word.
So why her? What the fuck made her different?
---
Lucien's POV
I tossed the device on the table. A hand grinder. The type with a hole just wide enough for what needed to be punished.
"You like to fuck, right?" I said casually. "Here. Have at it."
He looked at it, horrified.
"Go on. Fuck all you want."
"Boss, please. I swear—"
"Ten seconds," I said coldly. "One… Two…"
Panic overtook him. He fumbled, dropped his pants, and with trembling hands, shoved himself into the grinder. A sick hum filled the air as he turned it on, and his screams echoed off the concrete walls.
Blood. Everywhere.
By the time he started to black out, I raised my gun and ended it with a single shot to the head.
"Clean this mess up," I said to the guard outside. "And get Hayden."
Then I walked out—calm, composed, but seething beneath the surface.
No one touches what's mine.
Not unless they want to die screaming.