Page 78 of Sinister Promise

I wrapped my hand around her throat again, tilting her head back, forcing her to look up into my eyes. I wanted to see the truth in those pretty, golden-flecked eyes.

She was a captive.

I was the monster holding her here, at least for now.

"Your disobedience is making me angry."

Her pretty eyes reflected the exact moment her resolve cracked. The tears that welled in them spilled down her cheeks.

I could see it—the moment she realized what she needed to do to survive. That was what she was, a survivor, and a natural submissive.

She wasn't weak, far from it. But what her mind wanted and what her body wanted were at odds.

I could use that.

She wanted to please me. Even if her mind fought it with every fiber of her being, her softening body, her hitching breaths as she hesitated were all I needed to see to know she liked the way I made her feel.

Her lips opened and closed a few times, like she was searching for the words.

I loosened my grip on her throat and leaned in to whisper into her ear. Coaxing the information from her lips. "It would please me for you to obey. I think you would much prefer the way I treat you when I'm pleased."

Finally, she broke.

Her body relaxed against mine, and her eyes slid closed.

The confession poured out of her, and I knew the words were true.

"It's my grandmother," she gasped. "She's all I have in this world."

"Were you telling me the truth last night that you've had no contact with your father?" I asked, thinking about the man in the photos that clearly made her uneasy.

She nodded. "He used to just show up when he needed something. Usually money. He would bring gifts—things he had stolen—and he would act like a provider. Like Grandma and I were living off his generosity. Then he would disappear as soon as his debts caught up to him. They always caught up to him."

Alina's voice trembled as she continued her confession.

"My grandmother was diagnosed with early-onset dementia. I couldn't take care of her, so now she lives in a nursing home in Virginia. I go to visit her as often as I can. At first it was fine, better even. She had Medicaid and a pension to pay for her housing, and I was living just off campus. I missed her, but she was doing so much better."

"Then what happened?"

"One day, she told me about these men dressed in black who came to see her. They were asking questions about me and my father, how she paid for the nursing home, and where I spent my time."

Her eyes cast down as she swallowed. I gave her only amoment to gather herself. Just as I was about to say something to urge her on, she kept going.

"At first, I just dismissed it as paranoia, or maybe some delusion, or something from the TV she thought was real—just the dementia talking. But then the staff confirmed it. They had asked the nurses about me too, and a few of them were scared of the men. There were three of them, and at least one of them had a gun."

"And the staff just let them in?"

"They claimed to be cousins. I don't think the nurse saw the gun until they were leaving. They asked strange questions about my father. How often he visited and things like that. I didn't think much of it until later that night…"

Her words trailed off again. I tilted her chin up for her to look at me. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine.

She was terrified of whatever had happened.

Something twisted in my chest at the sight.

"I came home to find my apartment trashed. Before I could take out my phone to call the police and make a report about what happened, three men burst through my door. They told me that my father had debts. If I didn't pay them off, there would be consequences—starting with my grandmother. They wanted to take more than just money… but I agreed to pay the debt if they didn't hurt my grandmother."

A long, shuddering breath left her body, and I took my hand off her throat and instead cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears with my thumb.

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