Page 70 of Merciless Oath

“Lenny!” I gasp, struggling harder to open my eyes. It feels like that time a kid lost control of his baseball bat in middle-school gym class and it soared through the air, hitting me square in the head.

“Slowly, Enzo,” a female voice floats over from my right. “Leo lost control of the baseball bat, that fucking fool… it might hurt for a while.”

A baseball bat, huh? Twice in one lifetime is pretty shitty luck considering I’m not a baseball player.

I finally manage to open my eyes and drag my face from the smooth wood below it. My body feels like it’s swaying, which only makes me dizzier when things start to come into focus. Alexandra hovers near me, lightly stroking my hair.

I try to pull away from her, but my body is stuck in slow motion, refusing to move with its usual agility. Ignoring her, I glance wildly around the room for a sign of Valentina.

I finally spot her slumped on the opposite side of the wooden table, her face resting on the plate in front of her.

Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, my brain fully processes the scene in front of me. We seem to be the grand dining room of this insane yacht, sitting at a table set for a feast.

White flowers and candles line the center of the table, resembling a twisted wedding scene. The room is filled with flowers as well—and big, rough-looking dudes with guns.

My hand slides covertly down my body to feel for my holster, and I realize I’m naked except for my briefs. A look at Lenny confirms they stripped her down to her undergarments as well.

I watch the rise and fall of her back, trying to plan out a scenario where we escape this alive.

“I’m so happy you finally found me, Enzo,” Alexandra announces with glee. “It took you a little too long, so I had to take matters into my own hands. But no matter, you’re here now.”

“Where’s my daughter?” I growl, ignoring her wolfish smile. “Give me my daughter.”

“All in good time, my love,” she sings, twirling around the room away from me. “We’re about to have the party of the century here tonight, isn’t that right, boys?”

I eye the “boys” she’s talking to—three large, tattooed men with unimpressed faces.

Guns for hire, probably; definitely not the scrawny hacker guys we’ve been picking up. That’s good. That means they have no loyalty to her other than money.

I nod to myself, but Alexandra takes it as confirmation of her plan. She prances over to me in that ridiculous skimpy white lingerie and forces herself into my lap.

I use what little strength I have left to push her off, but she just laughs and beckons one of the men over.

The cold nose of a gun rubs against my temple, and I inhale sharply, realizing that I have to play her little game if I want to see my daughter again. Another man appears behind me, grabbing my hands roughly and binding them behind my back.

Fuck, that’s going to make everything more difficult.

Alexandra arranges herself in my lap again, lounging against my chest and stroking my face softly. Revulsion spreads through me as her hands run lower and trace the band of my briefs.

My brain is screaming at me to spit in her face and throw her off, but I ignore it.Play nice,I remind myself,until it’s safe to destroy this bitch.

“Why am I here?” I grit through my teeth as her fingers skate over my body. “What do you want?”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you, darling,” she purrs, nestling harder into my chest. “Don’t you get it?”

Her fingers tighten around my flaccid cock, and I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming at her. Valentina moans, trying to raise her head.

I watch her stir, silently pleading for her to pretend to be out cold for a little longer. Alexandra notices the movement and hops off my lap, sashaying over to her.

“And her?” I ask, desperate to keep her talking. “What do you want with her?”

“Oh, this one?” Alexandra laughs, gripping Lenny tightly by the hair and forcing her to sit up. “She’s fish food for all I care.”

Lenny moans, squinting into the brightness of the room. Her eyes instantly meet mine, her brain moving much faster than mine did.

I see her process everything, from the table to our lack of clothes and weapons. The color drains from her face, and her eyes grow desperate, searing into my soul.

“Where’s my daughter?” she manages to gasp. Blood trickles from her nose, landing delicately on the white napkin folded in front of her, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Where is she?”

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