Page 51 of Buried in Blood
“You will say nothing.”
Her mouth opens, but I raise a finger before the syllable forms.
“Not a word, Brooke.”
Her throat bobs. “What is this?”
“Not your business,” I snap. “You’re not here to question me. You’re here because I allowed it. Because I want you to understand exactly what happens to people who betray me.”
She swallows again, harder this time. Her eyes flick to the crack in the door.
“Is someone down there?”
I smile, slow and sharp. “You’re already talking too much.”
I grip her chin, not hard, but tight enough that she gets the message. Her breath stutters.
“There’s a man in that cellar,” I whisper, voice slick with satisfaction. “A man who thought he could outplay me. Who thought he could crawlthrough tunnels and drag my queen and pawns away.”
Her eyes widen. “You caught someone?”
I nod once.
She glances down the stairs again, lips parting in awe. Or fear. Maybe both.
“I want you to understand what happens to traitors,” I murmur. “What happens to men who think about taking what’s mine.”
Her gaze jumps back to me. “Do you want me to… watch?”
“No. I want you to remember. And I want you to keep your mouth shut. If Harmony hears even a whisper—if Reese suspects—I’ll assume it came from you. And I will carve the evidence off your skin, inch by fucking inch.”
Tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she nods.
“I said—” I lean closer, “—do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good girl.”
I let the door creak open wider, and she follows me down.
One step. Two.
Dante doesn’t speak.
He’s chained to the wall. Bleeding. Bruised. Conscious.
And staring straight at me like I’m the devil incarnate.
I grin.
Because he’s not wrong.
* * *
“Come,” I command.
She doesn’t hesitate.
