Dirty Revenge (Dirty 3)

He strokes my hair slowly and gently, before grabbing my hair forcefully, jerking my head back as his lips hover over my ear.

“I will have my way with you, whore. Lucky for you, I don’t have any clients to see this week. So you and I will have an entire week to get to know each other. And you can wish you had a man in your life who might rescue you, or at least to cloud your memories when I fuck you.”

I suck in a breath. I hate how his hot breath breathes down my neck. My body freezes, hoping he will stop. But I need to fight my urge to stop moving. Not fighting back won’t get me anywhere. I need to fight to get free. Even if it means I might get more injuries until I finally break free.

Dante jerks me away from his mouth so he can look me in the eyes.

“I think you are going to be my greatest conquest of all, whore.” Dante turns his attention to his men in the front seat who have largely ignored our conversation. “How long do you think my new whore will survive?”

“You are the greatest master, sir. You will tame her within the week, and then how long she survives will be up to you.”

“Two weeks, sir.”

Dante licks his bottom lip slowly as he turns back to me.

I squirm back against the door, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you two months. I think you are stronger than the rest. You have spirit and fight, and you fight all for yourself, not for the love of a man. I admire that, whore. But in the end, it won’t help you. You’re mine now. The sooner you learn to behave, the sooner this will all end.”

End.

He means this will only end when I die.

I may have made some mistakes in choosing my escape, but this will not end with my death. Even if I do die, Arlo and Matteo will never stop until Dante is dead. They will get my revenge. He underestimates the Carini bloodline if he thinks he will survive this.

I don’t say any of that to him. It won’t help. For now, I need to prepare myself for what’s next. Good thing I’ve had years of practice.

The car slows, and I stare up with wide eyes at the house which, I assume, will soon become my prison. It’s a large house, almost as big as the Carini mansion, but unlike the warm, ancient, and inviting Carini mansion, this house feels cold and indifferent. The building has high, light-gray brick walls. The front door is a dark wood that looks like it’s meant on a dungeon cell, not the front door of a home. But then again, this isn’t a home; it’s a prison.

I swallow and feel my heart beating rapidly. Maybe I’ll die of a heart attack before I even get inside. That would be the easy way out. No suffering.

I’m used to suffering; I remind myself.

Whatever Dante has planned for me, I can survive. I always survive.

I don’t realize the men are already out of the car until my door is thrust open, and I almost fall to the concrete ground below.

A burst of thunder sends a jolt through me, almost as if restarting my heart. I take a deep breath, and I feel stronger than I’ve felt in a long time. My heart rate slows to a much steadier pace.

I’m a Carini. There is nothing I can’t face.

I step out of the car as hands clasp around my bicep again. I won’t be forced into the house. I won’t be dragged. I will walk in proudly like I own the place. I’m different than his other whores. And therefore, I have an advantage. I can’t change and start acting scared.

Raindrops pour down as I walk the few feet to the front door. I feel every drop. I love the rain, but today the rain mirrors my mood. Thunder rolls again, but this time I don’t jump. It sounds more like a chorus beating loudly in the background, reminding me I have someone on my side. I’m as strong as the thunderous sound.

Dante opens the door, and I step in with one of his men still gripping my arm. I quickly scan everything in sight. I need information if I’m going to survive. I need to know every exit. Every security camera. Every guard. I need to know every person in this house. Every car. Every weapon. Only then will I be able to escape.

“You never cease to surprise me, whore,” Dante says as he takes over for his guard, whom he quickly dismisses.

I raise an eyebrow. It’s just him and me.

He either thinks he can easily overpower me. Control me. Or he has more security guards waiting to take me out if I run.

Dante isn’t stupid, unlike his men.

He won’t leave himself vulnerable. He wants me too badly to give me a chance to escape. He’s testing me. Seei

ng if I will run so he can punish me.