Page 36 of Twisted Addiction

Giovanni’s grin vanished. “Merda,” he muttered under his breath, his limp barely masking the urgency in his movements.

Around us, people dropped to their knees, hands laced behind their heads with practiced precision. The sharp scent of fear hit the air.

Giovanni glanced at me, his eyes flashing a warning. “Someone tipped them off.” His voice dropped to a whisper, tight and urgent. “Penelope, kneel. Now.”

I froze for a heartbeat, the weight of their guns—of what they represented—pressing down like a storm. The night that had once felt wild and freeing turned suffocating again. I slowly sank to my knees beside Giovanni, the asphalt biting into my skin.

I froze, my heart lurching, unsure of the protocol in this strange, lawless world.

Before I could comply, a voice cut through the silence, commanding, dripping with familiarity. “Milaya.”

Dmitri.

“Damn,” I breathed, the word barely a whisper as my stomach dropped.

I was in trouble.

His tailored coat billowed slightly in the breeze, his face a mask of controlled fury as he strode toward me with long, purposeful steps.

The crowd parted, some already being handcuffed and led away by the enforcers, their faces pale with fear.

Dmitri’s gaze locked onto Giovanni, still kneeling, and his voice was a low growl. “You brought my wife to this cesspool?”

Giovanni kept his head bowed, his tone steady despite the danger. “Just thought she could use a little fun, boss.”

Dmitri’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Giovanni, his jaw tight.

Without a word, he bent and scooped me into his arms, lifting me as if I weighed nothing, cradling me like a child.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and I caught the shocked stares of the onlookers as I peered over his shoulder.

Two enforcers moved toward Giovanni, their handcuffs glinting as they prepared to restrain him.

“Wait!” I protested, my voice muffled against Dmitri’s chest. “You’re not helping him?”

He didn’t answer, carrying me to his sleek black SUV parked nearby.

The door slammed shut as he set me in the passenger seat, the leather cool against my heated skin.

He slid into the driver’s seat without a word, the leather creaking beneath him. The engine rumbled to life, its low growl filling the silence as we pulled onto the road.

“I’ll pay for what I did,” I said finally, the words breaking through the tension. “Giovanni has nothing to do with this.”

Dmitri’s eyes stayed on the road, his voice flat. “You couldn’t have found this place on your own. He set it up. He’ll deal with the consequences.”

“He was trying to help me,” I shot back. “He just wanted me to breathe for once.”

Dmitri’s hands tightened on the wheel. “His job isn’t to make you breathe. It’s to keep you alive.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “Alive? You call this living?”

His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking. “It’s better than being dead because of someone else’s stupidity.”

I turned away, staring out the window, the streetlights blurring into gold streaks. “You’re right,” I said quietly. “Pain’s safer, isn’t it? You’re an expert at that.”

He fell silent, his hands tightening on the wheel, but he didn’t contradict me.

By the time the mansion came into view, my pulse had steadied, though the air between us still felt brittle.