Page 14

The funeral. He doesn’t mention taking over the family or becoming their leader, only Adrian’s death. His grief bleeds through the cracks in his mask, and something inside me twists painfully.

I stop struggling then and sag against the post, letting the wood dig into my spine. “Please,” I say, softer now but still edged with anger. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not who you think I am.”

He stays silent, but I see it—the hesitation in his eyes, the flicker of doubt—and I grab onto it like a lifeline.

“I would never try to ruin Adrian’s funeral.” My voice cracks with urgency. “I cared for him too. I want to grieve him as much as you do. I miss him so much, and I just want?—-”

“Shut your mouth!” His roar fills the room, swallowing my words whole.

He presses closer to me, his presence like an electric current making my skin prickle.

Leaning in, he speaks low and dangerous, each word dripping with twisted intent.

“You’re a fucking liar, one who deserves everything she’s going to get.

All the pain. The suffering. When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were dead. ”

The finality of his last word hangs in the air. I don’t want more tears to flow, but I can’t stop them. “Don’t say that. Please. I still love you. Why won’t you…” My words fade in a sob because I’ve tried to tell him the truth so many times and he just won’t listen.

He grabs my throat suddenly, wrapping his fingers around it tight, and licks tears off my cheek. “I could do so many things to you in this room. Things that might finally make you confess your sins.”

A shiver runs through me. I can’t tell if he’s talking about actual, violent torture, or something more carnal and heated. “What would Adrian think of that? You doing anything to me in his room?”

His jaw ticks, but he continues as if I said nothing.

“I could keep you tied up for days, just waiting and begging for more.” His breath is hot against my ear, his tone darkening with every word.

“I could make you scream so loud the guards outside would wonder if I’m torturing you or fucking you senseless. ”

My heart pounds against my ribcage, a wild drumbeat of fear and something else—a forbidden thrill that coils deep in my belly. How could he still have this effect on me, after everything?

Maybe I’m the twisted one for enjoying this.

“You might hate it,” he whispers, eyes blazing with desire and dominance. His hand dips below my dress, lifting the hem and running his finger through my crease.

I can’t believe myself, but I’m wet. Now he knows it too.

A dark smirk crosses his face, actually making him handsome for a moment, instead of twisted in rage. “You’re so fucked up you want me to fuck you on my brother’s bed? Want me to make you come harder than he ever could.”

The challenge in his gaze dares me to deny it, to deny him. But I can’t look away; I’m caught in the force of his obsession, struggling against the worst part of myself—the part that still wants him as much as it hates him.

“Fuck you,” I bite out.

He laughs, a sound that’s a low rumble and vibrates down into my toes. Apparently, my body is still humming from the way he kissed me at the vineyard.

“You act tough,” he says. “But it’s clear who you belong to.” He holds my chin firmly between his fingers. “Say it.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Say it.” His words sink into me like claws, tearing through the last shreds of my sanity.

“I don’t belong to anyone, asshole .” I yank at the restraints, desperate to escape how much I want him, desperate to escape myself. But it’s no use; I’m tied too tight, held too firm by both plastic and my own traitorous desire as my body continues to tremble under his intense gaze.

He watches me fight everything—the ties, the truth—and there’s a smug satisfaction in his eyes when he presses harder against me, pinning me with his body. “You’re mine,” he tells me. The zip ties cut deeper as I struggle, but it only seems to excite him more. “Admit it.”

I shake my head, but the movement is weak.

“Don’t say it then. But your body already has.” His lips brush against my neck as he speaks. “You can’t resist me any more than you can run from this room. ”

His hand moves again, sliding along my thigh with infuriating slowness, pushing the fabric higher until I’m trembling under his touch.

“Stop,” I gasp out, but it sounds like I’m begging for more.

He laughs—a low, dark sound full of disdain and desire—and begins grinding against me with devastating precision. My composure shatters at every deliberate thrust of his hips, from the way his hardness hits my core through my panties, until all I can do is gasp and writhe beneath him.

“You hate how much you want this,” he whispers against my ear. “You hate that you’re already dripping for me.”

The heat inside me builds unbearably as I squirm and fight back a moan.

“Don’t hold back now.” He pulls away just enough to look at my face.

His blue eyes burn with challenge and certainty as they rake over me—my flushed skin, my parted lips—taking in every reaction before his gaze locks onto mine again.

“Just stop fighting what you already know is true,” he commands.

His fingers circle my clit while he grinds into me faster.

Harder. Relentless. “Make those pretty little noises for me.”

I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. I won’t give into his madness.

Then there’s an explosion of sensation as he pulls my panties aside and starts fucking me with his thick, demanding fingers. I cry out shamelessly, arching into him even with the damn zip ties cutting cruelly into my wrists .

“That’s it.” His breath hitches triumphantly as he feels how close I am to breaking completely under him. “You’ll always be mine, Aurelia.”

His name tears from my throat on a ragged moan as everything goes white-hot and wild around me; pleasure crashing over pain until I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.

“A fucking liar.” His voice finds its way through the haze. “But still mine.”

I want to tell him I’m not—not a liar, not his—but his mouth is on mine, kissing the life out of me.

Against all reason, I kiss him back. It’s wild and reckless and angry, a kiss that might destroy us both.

He tastes like fury and need, like he wants to turn back time and erase all the horrors that have brought us to this moment.

Part of me wants it too—wants to go back before everything went to hell, before he believed I could betray him and kill Adrian.

Before he became the same monster he claims to want revenge on.

I kiss him harder, desperate to reach the Julian I used to know. The one I loved. His grip loosens on me, and I crack my eyes. He’s looking back at me and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his gaze as my mouth moves against his with a ferocity that’s complete desperation.

He groans into the kiss, deepening it until we’re both breathless. One hand tears at my ties while the other slides under my dress again. My legs wrap around his as if they have a mind of their own, pulling him closer in a tangled mess .

“You want me breaking you, don’t you?” He sounds almost frantic now, unguarded in a way that cuts deep.

“Fuck you,” I gasp—but it’s different this time; no bite behind it.

Incredibly, he snaps the wrist ties in his fists, blood rushing back to my cold, numb hands. Then his fingers are on me again, thrusting hard and fast until I’m losing the fight, giving in to how much I still crave him even when I should hate him.

“Say it,” he demands over my ragged breaths, pushing me right back to the edge where nothing else matters except the way he makes me feel. “Say you’re mine.”

“I…” My voice breaks as his thumb circles my clit, as pleasure builds so intensely that I can hardly speak.

“ Say it .” His control is slipping; I can hear it in every jagged word that leaves his lips.

But I won’t. I can’t. Not until I know he’ll believe me when I tell him the truth.

A frustrated growl escapes his throat and he shoves me back onto the bed. He claws at my dress, ripping it around the collar until my bra is exposed. Then he claws at that too, pulling it down until my breasts are exposed.

He straddles me as he releases his cock from his pants. In quick, angry strokes, he pleasures himself, pinning me down with his legs.

“You’re fucking mine ,” he grunts as thick, hot cum spills from his tip onto my breasts.

Then to drive the point home, to prove just how much he owns me, he shoves three fingers inside me.

I don’t want to, but I immediately come undone. Everything spins wildly out of control, intense and overpowering until there’s only white-hot oblivion as Julian holds me down.

While I’m still riding the sensations, he twists his hand in my hair, pulling at my roots and lifting my head until I meet his gaze. “They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer—I’m keeping you as close as I fucking can so you don’t shoot me next. You’re mine. In every way.”

He yanks my head back down and then climbs off the bed, zipping his pants. He leaves, the door slamming closed behind him.

My body hums even as my soul feels crushed, violated. I wipe Julian’s cum off me with the back of my hand, disgust and heat twisting inside me until I can’t tell them apart. The remnants of his touch sear against my skin like a mark. I need to get him off me, out of me.

A strangled noise escapes my throat. Energy explodes from my arms as I rip at my dress, tearing it from my body in frantic motions. The fabric shreds between my fingers, leaving me breathless and exposed.

Now in my panties, I stumble toward the door and pound on it with fists that are raw and trembling.

“I’m not yours! I hate you!” My voice echoes hollowly back at me.

“I’ll kill you! If you keep pushing me, I swear to God, I’ll—” My voice is too raw to keep going, and I know everything I’m saying is a lie.

I’m still in love with the monster.

But I keep pounding until the skin on my knuckles splits and the pain snaps through the numbness. Until I collapse against the door, broken sounds escaping with my ragged breaths.

Everything is muffled—my own cries, the world outside—until there’s only my heartbeat pounding in my ears and the throbbing at the base of my skull.

I notice a journal peeking from under a pillow on the bed and laugh—a lovely little gift for Julian’s trapped whore.

I crawl across the plush carpet with shaking limbs, grabbing the journal and pulling the pen from a loop at the spine.

My first words spill onto the page:

Dear Diary,

I’ve become my mother. But I won’t end up like her—this is war.