Page 5 of Possess Me

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I demanded for the second time, finally able to jerk my arm free. The bastard continued to glare at me with a smug expression, his jaw clenched to the point I hoped the position hurt like hell.

With only self-preservation in mind, I threw a brutal punch. As I held my breath, I was gleeful seeing blood oozing from the cut on his lip.

Antonio took a deep breath, shifting his jaw from one side to the other as he rubbed his chin.

I moved from foot to foot, my fingers clenched into tight fists, just waiting for him to retaliate. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten physical, but there was more of an urgency in his actions.

I guess the big boss had told him to cage me like a wild animal. That wasn’t going to happen.

He caught me by surprise, the force and strength used knocking the wind from my lungs.

The brutal slap pitched me against the wall. Immediately, stars floated in front of my eyes and I tasted blood from where I’d bitten my tongue.

“You will learn to obey, you little slut.” His voice was the same as I’d remembered and the one that had created waves of fear years before when I’d been so young. “And I will enjoy spending days and weeks breaking you. Preparing you.”

“For… what?” I hissed, spitting blood.

“For your destiny. The past will always repeat itself. Years of this bullshit. Now, I’m taking control.”

What the fuck did that mean?

My God, the man was sick if he believed I’d ever allow him to touch me. He had no idea what I was capable of.

“You killed your own father, your flesh and blood.”

He laughed. “He was weak. Useless.”

My God.

Now that I was older, I wasn’t afraid of him or his connections. I was simply repulsed by everything he’d become.

A soul-sucking monster.

Yet I also knew I had to be very careful. He was dangerous, more so now that his father was dead and he’d been promoted.

“Get out of my house.” I skirted around him, throwing open the door.

“The last time I checked, this house didn’t belong to you.”

“Something else you’re dead wrong about. It became mine the moment you murdered my mother and your father.” The thought almost brought tears to my eyes, but this son of bitch would never see me cry.

Huffing, he showered me with a heated leer.

He adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing his palms down the expensive linen, using the movement as a gesture of power. He’d changed over the years, becoming taller and wider, his fingerscovered in scripted ink as a nod of respect to the gang he’d participated in and worshipped.

He’d gone from wearing jeans and muscle tee shirts to tailored Gucci.

As if that would disguise the murderous blood and savagery running through his veins.

I could see right through his façade to the cold-blooded killer. His eyes were soulless, his expressions icy, and his brutality well known throughout Chicago.

The main reason I’d left the city.

There was only one reason I’d returned.

The murder of my mother and stepfather.

While there was no evidence to prove my accusations, my instincts were never wrong. I’d seen the horrendous photographs of the crime scene. I’d been the one to identify their mutilated bodies.