Page 107 of The Ecstasy of Sin

He saw something in me worth fighting for, worth killing for, worth dying for… and damn it, I can’t walk away from that. As afraid as I am, I need to remind myself why I felt safe with him in the first place.

He didn’t have to help me at the clinic, he didn’t have to pay for my care and my medication. He didn’t have to riskeverything to save my life when I was attacked. He didn’t have to stalk me everywhere, keeping me safe, watching over me. He didn’t have to open his home to me, and insert me into his family like I always belonged there.

The way he loves me is unconventional. It doesn’t fit society’s definitions, but neither do I. I haven’t for a long time. I never had anywhere to belong, not after my mom died, but now? I belong with him. For better, or for worse.

I will learn to love the monster that is Dominic Kael. He may be a devil of a man, but he’s more than willing to be the hell where my own demons can finally build a home.

He wants me to make him earn it, and I’m happy to oblige.

I stick my thumb out and start walking slowly along the shoulder of the highway. Two cars pass. Then another. Finally, a blacked-out SUV pulls onto the road and slows beside me.

I flinch when both the front passenger door and the rear door swing open. Two men in black suits step out. The one from the back stands next to the open door, his narrowed eyes radiating cold cruelty.

Fear slams into me like a freight train. I stumble back just as the second man approaches, a white towel clutched in his heavily inked hand.

I watch in horror as a sick grin spreads across his face, and I know in an instant: these men are mafia.

They aren’t here to offer me a ride.

I scream, turning to run, only for a large hand to grab me by the upper arm and slam me back against his broad chest. Onearm snakes around my waist, pinning me in place as I thrash and scream and flail in pure panic.

The towel slams down over my nose and mouth, and the sickly-sweet scent rushes into my system like a trap closing. I hold my breath on instinct, but it’s no use. My head swims instantly as he begins dragging me backward toward the SUV.

And there, down the road, I see him.

Dominic bursts out of the forest, his face contorted with rage, his body charging like a war-born monster. He’s running full speed toward me, but he’s too far away.

My limbs weaken as my vision blurs, and my oxygen-deprived lungs override my common sense. I inhale—one full, desperate breath—through the chloroform-soaked towel.

“WREN!”

My name is a roar of fury from his lips, a war cry that promises annihilation.

It’s the last thing I hear before the world goes dark.

CHAPTER 27

Dominic

Iwillburnthisfucking city to the ground.

I’ll torture and kill every Bratva bastard on Canadian soil until there’s so much blood soaking Toronto that the world begs Dimitri Volkov to crawl out of whatever rat hole he’s hiding in, just to stop the massacre I’m about to unleash.

I don’t give a fuck who dies, or what I destroy. The only thing I care about is getting Wren back.

And if there’s so much as a scratch on her, I’ll become the goddamn mark of Cain—returning every wound sevenfold until they’re begging me for death.

Standing in the middle of the highway, I watch as the blacked-out SUV speeds down the road. My chest feels like it’s caving in, and my heart’s beating a frantic rhythm.

The farther they take her, the farther my sanity recedes and the faster the bloodlust rises, painting everything in shades of red.

What I did to Maksim will look like child’s play when I’m finished with the men in that SUV. I’ll bleed the Bratva dry from Canada to Russia and back again, until the entire world buries their name like a curse they’re too scared to speak.

I dodge honking cars, veering to the shoulder of the road. My phone is already in my hand. Wren’s pin is speeding down the highway on my encrypted tracking app.

Breaking into a run, I head back for the trees, which is the most direct route to my parked motorcycle.

I move through the dense bush as fast as I can, ignoring the thorns that rip into my pants, and the branches that whip back and forth across my body.