Page 44 of Beneath the Shadows

I glance at Lena. “Wait for me downstairs.”

She steps aside, and I approach my uncle, lowering my voice. “What do you want?”

“You can’t just pull my waitress off the floor mid-shift. We’re swamped tonight,” he says, his tone measured but firm.

“I suggest you have someone take her tables,” I reply, my impatience rising.

“We’re short-staffed as it is. If you want to wait at the bar until her shift is over, that's fine. But she’s not leaving now.”

I step closer, only inches from his face. “I didn’t come here for your permission, Marco. I’m in charge now. If I say Lena’s done, she’s done.”

“Might I remind you that this is my restaurant,” he says, holding his ground. “And Lena ismyemployee.”

“That can change,” I reply cooly.

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it however you want,” I say, brushing past him. “Now, make sure I’m not disturbed.”

If I had any doubt about Marco’s loyalties before, they’re gone now. He still thinks he should be in charge—a mistake that’ll cost him. Anyone who isn’t with me is against me and will be dealt with accordingly.

But I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have other things in mind. Downstairs, Lena’s already naked and kneeling as she waits for me like she knows what’s expected. Tonight, my thoughts are more twisted and darker than usual, and I intend to explore every one of my desires.

“On your feet,” I command. Before she’s found her footing, I push her into the room we use for torture. Then, I pull out my knife, the handle familiar and cold in my grip. The blade glints under the fluorescent light.

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” I ask as I trace the flat side of the blade against her cheek.

She shakes her head slowly.

Moving behind her, I slide the blade down her spine, eliciting a soft gasp. The knife’s edge barely kisses her skin.

“Get on the table,” I command, and she scrambles to obey.

I make quick work of restraining her arms and legs to the cuffs that are already attached to the table. Pressing the blade against her inner thigh, I apply just enough pressure to pierce her skin. Her legs quake, but she doesn’t make a sound.

“Do you feel that?” I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear. “It’s the power I have over you?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her voice barely a whisper.

“Good,” I growl, dragging the knife down her other leg. Blood wells up immediately, a dark contrast against her pale skin. “After tonight, anyone who looks at you will know you’re mine.”

Her eyes widen as the blade travels upwards, tracing the curve of her hip. I see the struggle in her eyes. The battle between submission and primal fear. It's intoxicating.

I press the blade deeper this time, carving a line across her ribcage. Lena’s cries echo in the small space. Her tears. Her pain—I covet them. I don’t stop cutting deeper into her skin, marking her with each stroke.

“Val,” she whispers. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Did I ask what you want?”

She squirms against the restraints. “You’re scaring me,”

I slam my hand on her waist, steadying her with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up,” I snarl, the venom in my voice silencing her.

I stand over her as I continue to trace patterns along her ribcage. Each cut is deliberate—calculated. The blade sinks deeper into her flesh with every stroke. Lena’s whimpers turn into frantic gasps, her body jerking against the restraints in a desperate attempt to escape the pain.

The sight of her blood only intensifies the twisted satisfaction pooling inside me. I soak in her sobs, savoring the music of her agony. Every shudder, every broken cry fuels me as I continue my work, cutting deep, jagged lines between her breasts.

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