Page 35 of Deadly Wrath

What happened to my mom? Why was I taken? Why was I brought back to Clover? And what the hell did they do with my dad?

Even if I spill everything to Alessio, it’s not like he will just confess and offer me a neatly wrapped truth bomb.

But… he did say he wasn’t in charge back then. So maybe it wasn’t him. But it was someone in the Commission. That much is clear.

Maybe, if I play along, staying here will get me closer to the answers I’ve been hunting for the past fifteen years. Well, seven years, really, since I turned eighteen and was officially an adult.

Everything I know, everything I’ve pieced together, is because of Detective Clover.

If he hadn’t taken me in that night, I shudder to think what would’ve happened to me. I probably would’ve ended up like my parents, another cold case. Another dead girl nobody cared enough to find.

Clover never told me who brought me to him that night. Maybe he didn’t know or was protecting me fromthat truth. Either way, he saved my life, and now, I need to find a way to check in with him.

Clover basically raised me since I was ten. Sure, I left when I turned eighteen, but we still talk all the time. I visit and call him. If I suddenly disappear, he’ll notice. And if he thinks I’m dead…or worse—being held prisoner by the very kind of men he spent years hunting down… There will be hell to pay.

But how do I explain that to Alessio without making things worse?

Oh, hey, Warden, by the way, my guardian’s an ex-FBI agent, and I need to check in, so he doesn’t think you’re holding me hostage.

Yeah, that’s going to go over real well. I take another slow sip of coffee, pretending I’m not internally spiraling. I need to be smart about this. I need to stay alive long enough to get the truth and get the hell out of here.

I’m lost in my thoughts when Alessio twists me in my seat, caging me between his arms. I didn’t even notice him stand up.

His hands grip the countertop, and his face is so close to mine I can damn near feel the heat rolling off him. The scent of maple syrup lingers on his breath from hisbreakfast. My brain’s screaming to pull away, but my body is acting like it has a mind of its own.

“I fucking mean it, Olivia. Cross me, and I’ll kill you myself,” he growls, deadly serious, but the way he says my name makes something deep inside me twist.

His hand moves to my throat, and even though it’s not tight, not yet, but I can feel the pressure. I try to swallow, but his fingers press tight enough to make it impossible. I should be fighting back, telling him off with something mean, but when his thumb brushes over the skin of my neck, my whole body reacts to his touch.

My pussy starts to purr, like she’s begging for something I know I shouldn’t want right now. He’s supposed to scare me, not make my skin burn under his touch. Not make my thighs press together, desperate for some relief from this sudden, maddening ache that I donotwant.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I said okay, Warden,” I snap, trying to turn out of his grip, but he doesn’t let go. I hope he doesn’t notice my pulse racing under his hand. Who am I kidding? He can feel it. And I can’t hide the flush that starts creeping up my neck.

His fingers tighten for just a second before he yanks me to my feet, his strength is utterly overwhelming.Seriously, is he even human? I try to focus on breathing, but standing face-to-face with him, feeling the heat radiating off his body, is like standing too close to a furnace.

“Good girl.” His grip loosens, yet his thumb continues to draw those slow, teasing circles on my throat. My knees feel like they might give out at any moment.

Stop it. Stop reacting to him like this.

“Now eat, and Paola will help you get clothes and anything else you need.” His voice is calm, but there’s that dark warning underneath it.

I nod, keeping my mouth shut because if I open it, I might say something stupid, or worse, something honest. The heat pooling between my legs is going to be the death of me. I’m not even wearing underwear, and these thin-ass pants aren’t helping.

Alessio shifts, his eyes dragging over me. He starts at my lips, then his eyes move to my chest, lingering like he’s committing every inch to memory.

Ugh. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Anything you need from me?” he asks, all smooth and smug, like he already knows the answer.

I force out a dry laugh, rolling my eyes like I’m not seconds away from combusting. “No thanks. Besides,you left me hanging last time. No need for another disappointment.”

I try to make it sound biting, like I don’t give a crap. But my voice cracks a little.

Alessio notices, and his blue eyes darken. And that damn smirk is devilish, like he can see straight through me, like he knows exactly what my body’s doing, even if I don’t want it to.

Before I can react, before I can even try to untangle the mess inside me, he leans in, his breath hot against my ear.

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