Empress Of Wrath, Blood And Desire

Chapter 11: Release Me

"Listen up, sweetheart. That room's off-limits to delicate little flowers like you. It's a man's world in there, discussing matters too filthy for the likes of a pretty face. Why don't you hurry off and stick to your dolls and dress-up games?"

My face contorts into a face of disgust, looking at the source of words with his gun set carefully at his front, gripped by his hands.

I guess he's new.

In a heartbeat, I lunge forward, giving the bastard no time to react as my forehead slams into his with a sickening crack, hard enough to send his gun clattering from his grasp. He staggers back, a grunt of pain escaping his lips.

A sharp hiss escapes mine as I feel the sting in my forehead, blood trickling down in a slow, mocking drip.

I crouch over him, my fingers instinctively wrapping around his throat, squeezing tightly.

My cold, unblinking eyes lock onto his, freezing him in place as shock and confusion distort his face.

Tilting my head, I watch dispassionately as his face flushes red, the veins in his forehead bulging as I squeeze the life from him. "The audacity to stand in my way," I snarl, venom dripping from my words, "spouting that sexist filth in my ear."

My grip tightens, and he writhes beneath me, his hands clawing uselessly at his throat, desperate for relief. "You must be new here," I hiss, my voice low and lethal. "I'm Sabrina, and I don't tolerate disrespect."

His sexist remark sealed his fate. I sneer, releasing his throat and watching as he gasps for breath, his glare filled with impotent rage. "I'd be ashamed if I were you," I add coldly, my voice dripping with disdain.

"Fucking bitc-" he begins, but I cut him off, slamming my foot into his chest with enough force to send him sliding across the floor, his body crashing violently into the door he'd once blocked.

"I don't doubt I'm close to finding her kingdom-"

The door bursts open with a thunderous bang, and his massive frame collapses to the ground with a pitiful cry.

Inside the dark room, heads snap in my direction, some peering out, others turning just enough to cast cold, indifferent, or displeased stares. A few look curious, but none speak.

A smile curls my lips, sweet yet lethal, devoid of humor. I stride forward, each step bold, and dangerous, the air thick with tension.

I knew about his little meeting with the other leaders long before today. He thought their presence would hinder whatever plan I had, but Marcello couldn't be more wrong. Nothing will stand in my way.

Upon entering the elegant, expansive conference room, my furious, dangerous eyes locked on my captor, the giant who dared to challenge me.

He sits at the head of the oak table, exuding an authority no one in the room even comes close to possessing. His gaze is fixed on me, filled with adoration and admiration, and his lips curl into a smug, heart-stopping grin that only fuels my rage further.

He is fucking sick.

His dark eyes bore into mine, somehow deepening, turning into a shade as dark as midnight.

A sexy, yet menacing smirk curls on his lips, a look that should make me recoil, but instead has me weak at the knees. I refuse to let him see the effect he has on me, though we both know he's aware of the power he wields over me.

Leaning back casually in his chair, his fingers resting against his perfectly chiseled jawline, exuding a lethal mix of arrogance and danger.

He looks like a man who controls the world through sheer darkness, and yet somehow, there's something irresistible about him.