Page 20 of Malicious Claim

Chapter Eight

The Devil’s Playground

Leila didn’t have the time to react before Makros closed in the gap between them, grabbing her by her wrist. His grip was firm and unshakable.

“You’re coming with me,” he declared flatly as he marched her toward the staircase.

Before disappearing upstairs, he turned towards Stefanos with a sharp, cutting glare. His nose twitched, his jaw clenching tightly as if he was grinding his teeth. That look passed on a silent message, one that needed no words to comprehend.

Makros kept his steps evenly paced, his exterior remained composed, but a flicker of annoyance stirred within him. Would he have to kill Stefanos? The Don wouldn't allow it. But to hell with the Don. If it came down to it, he'd do it anyway.

Once inside his room, he flung Leila onto the bed effortlessly. The door slammed shut behind them.

“Do you enjoy testing my patience?” His voice was controlled, but the sharp edge in his tone betrayed his anger.

Leila sat up, pushing back against the mattress in defiance. “What exactly did I do this time Makros?” she asked, lifting her chin, determined not to show her fears.

Makros’s eyes darkened, his irritation visible. “You’re really going to play dumb?” He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “No, it's not that. I think you know exactly what you're doing.”

She gave a slow, deliberate shrug. “If you’ll just tell me, maybe you’ll save yourself the unnecessary rage.”

Her words struck a chord within him. “Unnecessary rage? Ah,si,si. I stepped out of character last night, but it won’t happen again. That’s a promise.”

She pursed her lips bitterly.

“What won’t happen?” she demanded. “You hitting me again or–” Her voice faltered as the memories she had been trying to keep buried resurfaced. “You savage beast. Murderer. Control freak. Rapist!”

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw the shift in his expression. His gaze, already dark, had turned pitch-black.

Oh, Leila, what have you done?

She tensed, bracing herself for impact. But the strike never came.

Instead, he stayed glued to the spot, watching her silently with a thoughtful gaze.

She swallowed hard. Somehow, his stillness unsettled her more than his anger ever could.

When he finally moved, she flinched, scanning the room for something, anything, that could serve as a weapon. If he came at her, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

But he didn’t lunge, didn’t grab her either. Instead, he closed the space between them with slow, deliberate steps. Standing over her, he studied her face like he was trying to memorize it. Then, to her utter confusion, he smiled.

It was not a kind smile. It was taunting, almost condescending. His fingers brushed against her cheek, and she recoiled, turning her face away.

He simply cupped her chin and forced her to look at him.

“Did I hear you say 'Savage beast'?” he echoed, amusement dripping in his voice. “That’s rich coming from someone with the blood of monsters running through her veins. A lineage ofsavages, with the cries and blood of the innocent.” His gaze trailed down her face. “Don’t you dare play the victim card with me. If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?”

Leila frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? Was I there when you bought the shoes? Why should I be in your shoes then?”

He chuckled softly. “Never mind. You’ll understand soon enough.”

His voice dropped into a whisper as he spoke again. “A day will come when you look in the mirror and see exactly what you hate. What did you call it again? Savage beast. And when that day comes...” His lips curled. “You’ll finally understand me. Then you’ll agree on the size of my shoes.”

“Never,”she spat.

He leaned in very close, their breaths mingling. “We shall see about that.”

Before she could reply, his lips crashed onto hers. Fast. Hard.