—Ellie— Night had fallen and I was reading in bed, when suddenly the lights went out. I blinked into the unexpected darkness and climbed out of bed, putting the book down on the nightstand. Following the trail of silvery moonlight, I glanced out of the window. The lights in the garden and every other window of the mansion that I could see were out as well. In the distance I could make out lights from other houses. My pulse picked up. What was happening? My eyes searched the shadows of the perimeter, and then I saw two figures running across the lawn toward the house. The Outfit. It had to be. They had come to save me. Euphoria pulsed through me, followed by fear. This was Tristan’s territory. The Russo's knew every inch of their property and the Outfit didn’t. What if Mateo was among the attackers? I clung to the windowsill, immobilized by terror at the thought. Salvador and Dad would have never allowed my cousin to come here. He was
—Ellie— The lights came back on. My eyes burned from the onslaught of brightness. I was still kneeling on the bathroom floor when Tristan’s voice rang out. “Go into the basement and help Damian torture the Outfit asshole.” I could feel the color draining from my face. I’d heard the shooting, had prayed that the Outfit would win ... I forced myself to stand when the lock turned. Tristan came in covered in blood, and I started trembling, terrified my greatest horrors had come true. For a couple of heartbeats, Tristan regarded me. “Your cousin tried to save you.” Terror gripped me like a vise. I could not breathe. I didn’t want to believe it. “You’re lying,” I gasped out, voice broken and hollow. A dark smile curled his lips. “He’s a brave one.” I rushed toward Tristan, clutched his bloody shirt. Hiss dark eyes held mine. The predatory gleam in them made my heart thud even faster. “No,” I said again. “Mateo isn’t he
—Tristan— Eleanor had offered herself to me, but she’d done it out of despair, out of love for her cousin. Not because she wanted to. She loved her cousin fiercely, wanted to protect him at any cost, like I would my brothers. I could respect that. I’d never admired a woman on her knees more than I did Ellie. She followed me quietly through the mansion. I could have asked anything of her, but that wasn’t how I wanted things to go. Far from it. I opened the door to the cell beside Mateo’s, and Ellie stepped in. The door to the third cell swung open, and Damian stepped out, covered in blood, his brows drawing together when he spotted Ellie. I closed the door and faced him. “What’s going on?” he asked. His eyes scanned my face. “Tristan.” I smirked. “Change of plans.” He moved closer. “We’re not letting him go.” “We will.” Savio joined us in the hallway, clothes drenched in blood as well. He didn’t say anything, only regarded us
—Ellie— Over the next couple of days, Tristan kept his distance. We didn’t go on runs, and Kate or one of his brothers brought me food. The look in his eyes when I’d screamed in the basement, it was difficult to describe, but I knew for some reason it had bothered him. Damian had informed me this morning that Mateo was back in Minneapolis. I believed him. Tristan had promised and despite my difficult feelings toward the Don, I knew he’d keep this promise. I also knew that Mateo and my family were suffering every day I was here. Damian treated me even colder than before—if that was even possible. I had a feeling things between Tristan and him were strained because of Mateo. Damian probably would have killed my cousin. It was the obvious solution, the one Salvador would have chosen. But Tristan ... he was unpredictable. Cruel. Fierce. I didn’t understand him. If he’d tortured and killed Mateo, I would have hated him with brutal abandon, woul
—Ellie— “One month,” Tristan reminded me as he led me through the garden. It took me a moment to understand what he meant. “Since you captured me,” I said quietly. One month. Sometimes it felt so much longer, sometimes like only yesterday. I had never thought I’d survive a single day in the hands of the Russo's, in Tristan Russo’s hands, and now I’d survived so many more. Tristan was more patient than I’d thought. I was fairly sure my family and the Outfit was at a point by now that they’d hand Scuderi over, even if my grandfather disapproved. He was an old man close to death. I stared down at my bare feet in the grass. As a child I’d loved to run around barefoot, but eventually I had stopped because I was told it was undignified. Ice Princess. I’d enjoyed being her in public, even if she wasn’t a reflection of my true self. It was who I was supposed to be as Salvador’s niece, as Drake’s wife. Controlled. Dignified. Graceful. I caught
—Tristan— Ellie stared down at me with hatred, but she didn’t fight when I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her thong. I waited a couple of heartbeats, relishing in her silence, bathing in her surrender. I pulled down her panties. She shuddered but lifted her feet so she could step out of her panties. I pushed her skirt up. “Hold it up, Querido.” Her elegant fingers curled around the hem of her skirt, and she pressed it up against her flat stomach. I was at eye level with her pussy. The trimmed hair above her clit glistened with her juice, and her lips were swollen with arousal. I leaned forward, breathing in her heady scent. Before I’d kidnapped Ellie, I’d entertained different scenarios of how I would conquer her, break her, but this hadn’t been among them. I had to admit I enjoyed it tremendously. I ran my rough palms up her smooth thighs. She trembled, but not from fear, and fuck ... with Ellie I preferred any emotion but fear.
—Ellie— He exhaled and pulled back so he could look at my face, and the look in his eyes, it almost made my knees buckle. For a second, I had him. I held the reins on the cruelest, most powerful man in the west, and it was thrilling. But Tristan wouldn’t be Tristan, wouldn’t be Don, if he didn’t know how to take his power back. He grabbed his pants and pulled them down together with his boxers. His erection sprang free, and Tristan braced himself against the wall with his hands on either side of my head. I stared down at him and sank back against the wall. He was long and thick and impossibly hard. I tore my gaze away, only to be hit with Tristan’s penetrating stare. My cheeks blazed with heat, and he smiled as he leaned forward, trailing his tongue over my heated cheekbone. “Tell me, Querido, what will be my reward for my patience?” I stood on my tiptoes, curling my fingers over his neck, pulling myself up and against him. His hardness
—Tristan— This was the ultimate victory over Salvador, over the Outfit. They didn’t know it yet, but they would soon. Ellie trembled under me, her marble cheeks flushed, lips parted. She was in pain, and somehow it didn’t please me because I had tried not to hurt her. I gave pain willingly, deliberately, freely. Not by accident. I held myself still, content in the feeling of her tight walls squeezing my cock mercilessly. I was fucking ecstatic feeling the slickness around me and knowing it was her virgin blood. The sweetest reward for my patience I could imagine. My eyes roamed Ellie’s perfect features, and her blue eyes met mine, searching, wondering. I pulled out of her slowly, recognizing the signs of pain in her expression, then pushed back in even slower. I rocked my hips slowly, keeping my movements as controlled as possible. Her face twisted with pain and pleasure, and I angled my hips to increase the latter. She gasped, surprised. I