CHAPTER 4

He was going…. No. Not again. Not this time!

I moved quickly to the other side of the bed, putting as much distance between us as possible, but the room was small, too small to create a large distance between us.

“After what you did to me in that basement, you expect me to spread my legs like some cheap whore? Never! I would rather die than let you touch me! Go fuck yourself, Mashmellow!”

His gaze darkened, ruining his amazing features.

“And this,” he said softly, “is why you need to learn.”

My eyes darted around the room, desperate for anything I could use to protect myself. But he'd thought of everything. Every object that could serve as a weapon had been stripped away.

“Looking for something?” His chuckle was dry, humorless. "You're wasting your time."

Before I could think of my next move, he was suddenly in front of me, closing the space between us in a flash.

His hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me toward him with brutal force.

“Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing against him.

But he was unmoved, his grip unyielding. “You never learn, do you?” His voice was a low growl, devoid of pity.

I struggled, twisting and pulling as I tried to break free from his grip. With little effort, he yanked me back onto the bed.

“You don't listen, do you?” he muttered, his voice devoid of any emotion, as if my resistance was nothing more than a mild annoyance.

And then he did what I least expected. He grabbed the fabric of my shirt and ripped it from my body, the tearing sound cutting through my scream.

“Please, please don't do this,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

But his dark eyes remained locked on me, unblinking, as if savoring every second of my vulnerability. His gaze lingered on my chest, making my skin crawl.

I screamed louder, writhing beneath his grasp, clawing at him, doing everything in my power to break free. But it was useless. His strength far outweighed my resistance.

Dragging me toward the corner of the room, he reached for something on the table.

And then I saw it.

The collar and the rope.

“No, no, please,” I begged, shaking my head as he raised it in his hands.

He smirked, the sight of my fear fueling his sadistic satisfaction as he tied my wrist with the rope. “You'll wear this, Tesoro. Let's see if it improves your attitude.”

He clasped the collar around my neck.

Click.

The cold metal pressed into my skin, heavy and suffocating. I clawed at it instinctively, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist with force.

“You'll want to leave that alone,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Trust me.”

Then he stepped back, his eyes roaming over me as if to admire his handiwork. “There are extra clothes in there,” he said, pointing at the wardrobe. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

“You've got five minutes, you're not there by then...” He didn't finish the sentence, but his smirk said everything.

Before I could respond, he pulled out his phone, pressed it to his ear, and spoke Italian rapidly to it. A lady in a black outfit and a gun entered the room moments later.

“Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. When she's done, bring her down,” he said in a dismissive tone. Without another word, he turned and left.

After I was done, she led me into a hall. It was vast and cold even with his henchmen inside, and at its center stood a long table surrounded by chairs.

“Stay there,” he ordered, pointing at the middle of the hall.

“Bring them in.” His voice echoed in the hall as I obeyed his orders.

The doors opened, and two shirtless men were dragged in by his henchmen. Both were blindfolded, tied, and gagged, grunting as they stumbled forward. They were shoved to their knees in the middle of the hall.

That's when I noticed it.

The same collars they had forced onto my neck were now locked around theirs.

He rose from his chair and walked toward them with the calm menace of a predator. Removing their blindfolds and their gags, he crouched in front of them, his smile cold and lifeless.

“I'm sorry, sir!” one of them cried, his voice trembling. “I'm so sorry. Don't kill me. I promise I'll return all your money!”

He chuckled darkly. “What were you thinking when you stole from me? It’s so foolish of you to think you wouldn't get caught,” He paused, “If you'd used the money for something meaningful, I might've spared you.”

Liar. I scoffed inwardly.

The second man spoke, his voice broken with sobs. “My daughter... She needed surgery. I didn't want to lose her. I had no other choice!”

For a moment, he appeared to consider his words, nodding slowly. But when his gaze shifted to the first man, his expression hardened.

“And you?”

“I-I…” The man stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“You know what I hate most?” He said, cutting him off, his voice dropping low and deep. “I hate liars.”

“You didn't steal for noble reasons. You stole from me to gamble, drink, and fuck women. And while you were drunk, you and your friend raped a thirteen-year-old girl and fled.”

I widened my mouth in shock. How could they? They deserve to die!

The men's faces turned pale, and their mouths opened in shock.

“Unfortunately she died,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion.

He turned to me then, his smirk returning.

“Watch closely, Alzna. This is what happens to those who cross me.”

One of his guards handed him two remotes.

“This collar,” he began, holding one of the remotes above, “is designed for rats like you. It electrocutes, burns, and eventually beheads its victim. Oh, and tampering with it will kill you instantly. Let's start with electrocution,” he said coldly, his gaze never leaving mine.

I gulped down hard as my heart thudded in my ribs, but I wasn't going to let him see I was scared.

The first man sobbed uncontrollably, falling to his knees. “Please, sir! I have a wife! She's pregnant with our first child! Don't do this!”

His smirk vanished, replaced by cold disregard. “You should've thought about that before you stole from me.”

Stole from you? I knew he wasn't doing this because they raped the girl. Fucking pervert.

He pressed the button.

I froze as the man's body convulsed violently as the electric current surged through him. His screams echoed through the hall until his lifeless collapse with a sickening thud.

I gasped, covering my mouth in shock.

The second man broke down completely, shaking and pleading incoherently.

He didn't hesitate. He pressed the second remote.

Smoke rose from the collar as the man screamed in agony. And then, with a horrifying crack, his head rolled to the floor.

It stopped at my feet.

I screamed, stumbling back, bile rising in my throat as the stench of blood seeped into my nostrils.

This man is a monster. This is so inhumane.

He walked towards me and crouched beside me, gripped my chin, and forced me to look at him.

“As long as that collar is next to your skin, that is what happens when you step out of line. Don’t even think about running, every move you make is tracked. The only way out is if you kill yourself, and we both know that’s not happening,” he said with a cold smirk.

I bit my lip to keep from trembling, forcing myself to meet his gaze. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

He stood and said something in Italian. Four henchmen rushed to clean up the mess, dragging the bodies away as if it were routine.

“Get her up, Massimo,” he said sharply.

Before the scarred man could touch me, I held up my hand in protest as I slowly pushed myself up.

His lips curled into a dark smile. “Good. Now, let's talk.”

“Massimo, Erasmo, take a seat. The rest of you, get out,” he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

As the others filed out of the room, the gruesome scene from earlier kept replaying in my mind. My gaze stayed fixed on the table, my thoughts racing, but I forced myself to speak.

“What exactly do you expect me to do? And why does everyone know me as Catarina?” I asked, my voice low but steady, and I refused to look at him.

“Good question,” he said. “Let me answer the first question.”

He paused for a moment, “Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet my parents and my grandfather. You’ll be on your best behavior. No mistakes. No drama. And after that, we will start planning the wedding,” he said casually, as if he was discussing the weather.

“Whose wedding?” I asked, glancing up at him.

“Ours,” he replied, his tone laced with finality.

I stared at him, stunned. “What?!”