5 - Lured into Darkness.

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Rage surged within me, growing stronger with every heartbeat

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Rage surged within me, growing stronger with every heartbeat. Pain enveloped me like a second skin, pulsing with a relentless intensity that overshadowed all other sensations. Neither my father nor Miguel deserved this betrayal, especially not from me. I spent the entire night searching for a solution, but no matter how hard I tried, every path led to a dead end. It was even worse knowing my best friend's life was at stake.

The door creaked open and in walked Alessandro. The very sight of him stroked the fires of my rage, my blood seeming to churn in anger. Every fibre of my being urged me to unleash my wrath on him, but I bit my tongue, knowing any words would only fuel his temper. He, however, lacked my sense of restraint.

Stepping closer, he exuded the familiar merciless coldness that had become all too predictable. "I thought your father would be happy for you," his words oozed with cruel satisfaction, a wicked smirk carved on his face. "I guess I was wrong."

Blind rage blurred my vision as his audacity crossed all bounds, mocking the very bond I held dear. Leaping from the bed, I squared up to him. "Don't talk about my father! Don't you dare talk about my father! You don't have the faintest idea about him, about the love that exists between us!" I shouted, my words reverberating through the room. "I hurt him because of you. I broke his heart. I will never forgive you, Alessandro Rossi!"

His response was cold, completely devoid of remorse. "You made your bed," he shot back callously, pushing my guilt even further. "And now, you will lie in it."

My anger and frustration bubbled over, as I realized there was no reasoning with him. "You're not human. I swear you're not human! You make me sick!" I spat in utter disgust. Suddenly, his hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly, sending pain shooting through me. The malicious glint in his eyes served as a cold reminder that I was completely at his mercy. "Let me go!" I pleaded through gritted teeth. "You're hurting me."

His face broke into a cruel smile. "Good," he retorted sadistically. "Pain is good. Pain keeps the memory alive."

He tightened his hold on my arm before finally letting go of me. The tears came pouring out as I fell back onto the bed, utterly defeated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him retrieve something from his pocket, but I couldn't muster the strength to care.

"Here." He tossed my phone onto the nightstand with a clatter. "You're free to call anyone—your friend or even your father. But be careful what you say to them. Any slip-up, and I'll find out."

I turned my face away, refusing to meet his gaze. He wouldn't let it pass, though. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he demanded, a frosty threat hidden behind his words. His icy command forced me to meet his gaze, my expression reflecting my intense loathing. 

"Do you understand?" he pressed, his voice demanding clarity.

I managed a weak nod.

"In words," he commanded.

𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵Where stories live. Discover now