Chapter 106: Chapter Fifty-One

Alice

I’d never seen him so angry.

So ruthless.

Cold-blooded.

That was the same man who’d whispered my name, who’d held me close, the same man who’d shed a tear for me.

That man had just massacred six of my family members.

Because they insulted him.

And tried to take me.

It hit me then, why he was so convinced there was no way out, but death. My own family would have used me against him. They would have done whatever it took to stay alive.

The De Langes were desperate enough.

And a De Lange alive was a dangerous thing.

It threatened everyone.

I hung my head and then put a hand on Andrei’s tense shoulder. “Ubei menya.”

“No,” he clipped.

“Yes.”

“Alice…” His voice shook.

I leaned up on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “I don’t want it to hurt too long.”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

And then someone was grabbing me from behind. My body trembled as I looked over my shoulder.

Chase.

His face was set in stone as he pulled my hands behind my back and shoved me to my knees.

“Not here!” Andrei barked. “Not in the club.”

Oh God, he didn’t mean it right? He didn’t mean to take me to that place? Where nightmares were born? Where dreams died?

Chase pulled me to my feet.

I swallowed bile as the huge door clicked open. Chase shoved me down the cement stairs and then I was standing in front of all the windows.

Who were so aroused by it that they went and paid for a girl and a room.

I was going to be sick.

This was real life.

This wasn’t a fantasy.

He’d warned me.

He’d given me a number, not a name.

I was Alice De Lange. Six-thirty-two. And I was going to be sacrificed because people can’t choose their blood.

And mine was damned.

All of the men, including the older ones I didn’t recognize, stood before me as Chase once again shoved me to my knees.

Andrei pressed his gun to my forehead.

I expected it to be hot from all the shooting.

It felt cold.

Lifeless.

“You’re so warm…” he’d whispered.

Tears stung my eyes and fell down my cheeks.

“Don’t move.” Chase shoved me a bit. Footsteps echoed as he walked away and then returned and handed a long black whip to Andrei.

Andrei glared at him. “I don’t really have time to teach you how to use this, Chase.”

“I don’t need a lesson since I’m not going to be the one using it. Blood must be spilled…” He looked over at me. “So fucking spill it.”

I hated him.

I hated all of them.

I hated that Andrei was going to do this, I hated that I needed him to.

Most of all, I hated that the Andrei I knew and loved would not come back from this.

What was left of his innocence, I would take with me to the grave.

And in that moment, I hated myself more, for being born a De Lange, for wanting him as much as I did.

For loving him despite the warnings not to.

He raised the whip.

I saw the hesitation.

And then Chase spit out a curse and pulled me to my feet, only to throw me down against the concrete as he pulled out a knife and held the tip beneath my chin.

“Should I bleed you dry while he watches? Is that preferable, Andrei?”

I could feel Andrei’s anger pulsing around us as Chase very delicately pressed the tip of the knife into my chin.

I was afraid to move as tears streamed down my face.

It stung and then it burned as he pulled it away. “I could carve her a new face, Drei. Now raise the whip.”

Chase picked me up with both of his hands, my feet dangled. He was a strong man; it wasn’t lost on me that he could break me in half if he wanted.

He could have scarred my entire face, could have broken my jaw. Instead, he gave warnings and drew small amounts of blood. If that’s how they would torture me, I’d rather die.

His eyes flashed as he stared down at me. Andrei couldn’t see our faces at this angle. Chase didn’t blink. “You always like to play with fire?”

“You always stab women?”

His lips twitched, and then he was hauling me back to my feet and shoving me in front of Andrei. “Do it, or one of us will.”

The guys’ faces were all masks of indifference, like they were thinking about their next meal or the last soccer game they watched.

Did anybody even care?

And then I remembered.

Blood.

The mafia was blood.

Spilling it was as natural as breathing.

I spread my arms wide and locked eyes with Andrei. “Do it.”

He raised the whip.

And I was no longer Alice.

I was six thirty-two.

And it was my sacrifice to make.