Chapter 12

Aidan, present time...

I never did like the taste of rejection, but Ivy Williams served it cold and brutal. It was a gut punch, the kind that scrambles your insides and leaves you cursing the day you let someone get close enough to land it.

I could still feel the sting of her words and see the way her blue eyes flashed with defiance when she pushed back against me. It didn't matter that beneath the toughness, I was just Aidan Blackwood, a guy trying to make sense of a world that had dealt him a bad hand. To her, I was the villain, and maybe she wasn't entirely wrong.

"Joseph," I said as he answered the phone. "Marcus. Is he talking yet?" I asked.

"Nothing useful," Joseph replied, his tone impassive. "He's tough, but you know how these things go."

"Yeah, I do." The malice in my voice surprised even me. Marcus was the key, the one who knew where Slava was hiding. I needed that information, not just to win this stupid game of cat and mouse but to show everyone that Aidan Blackwood wasn't a name you could just dismiss or forget.

"Keep at it," I instructed, the edge in my tone implying what would happen if Marcus remained stubborn. Joseph nodded once, understanding perfectly. That's what made him invaluable—not only did he follow orders, but he did it without making me spell out the ugly parts.

The Maldives, a paradise for most, harbored a secret that clashed with its serene beauty. My secret lair there was a contradiction to the peaceful surroundings—a modern fortress designed to blend with the dense foliage and rocky outcrops of the secluded island.

I had it built to get some privacy with my victims.

"Welcome back, Aidan," the voice of the guard crackled through the intercom as the final security check cleared. My hands clenched unconsciously at my sides—the sound was a trigger, a reminder that I was steps away from facing Marcus.

"Open up," I responded curtly, my eyes never leaving the reinforced door as it slid open to admit me into the belly of my operation.

Inside, the air was cooler and sterile. My footsteps echoed off the concrete as I made my way to the holding cell where Marcus waited.

Marcus was bound to a chair, sweat beading his brow despite the chill in the air.. His eyes, when they met mine, held defiance. 

"Long time, Marcus," I said, keeping my voice even, controlled. 

"Blackwood," he spat, the name sounding like an insult coming from him. 

"Slava's location," I began without warm-up, my voice low but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. "I'm not leaving here without it."

He smirked, a bloodied lip curling in defiance. "You'll never find him." Marcus spat, the corner of his mouth lifting in a semblance of a smirk.

I leaned in close, letting my anger seep into my gaze. "You're going to tell me everything."

"Or what? You'll beat it out of me?" Marcus taunted, testing my restraint.

"Something like that," I confirmed, my voice low and dangerous.

I circled him slowly, like a predator assessing its prey. Every step was calculated to intimidate, to remind him of his vulnerability. "You think this is a game, Marcus?" I paused behind him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Let me assure you, it's not. You'll tell me what I want to know—it's just a matter of how much you'll suffer before you do."

His breath hitched slightly, the only sign that he was affected. But it was enough. Enough to stoke the fires of determination inside me.

"Think hard about your next words," I continued, my tone menacingly calm. "Because they could very well determine how this night ends for you."

"I don't know where Slava is," Marcus said.

I slammed my fist onto the cold metal table, the sound reverberating through the stark room like a gunshot. Marcus flinched, his eyes flickering with fear before hardening again into that maddening stoicism.

"Wrong answer!" I bellowed, my anger boiling over.

"Look, man," Marcus stammered, trying to compose himself, "you're barking up the wrong tree. I swear—"

"Swear?" I cut him off, spitting out the word like venom. "Your words are worthless." My hands itched, my body tense with the need to act, to exert the control that seemed to be slipping away.

"Please," he whispered, a crack in his façade appearing. "I've got nothing for you."

"Nothing," I echoed hollowly. A cold laugh escaped me as I rounded the table, my shadow looming over him. "That's not good enough."

In a blur of motion driven by raw fury, my hands were on him, hauling him from the chair and throwing him against the wall. His head snapped back with a sickening thud, and for a moment, the rage pulsated louder than my own heartbeat.

"Where is he?!" I roared, my fingers wrapped around Marcus's collar, lifting him until his feet barely touched the ground. He choked, clawing at my grip, his face turning a shade of red that mirrored the blood pounding behind my eyes.

"Can't... breathe..." he gasped, legs kicking weakly.

"Then talk!" I demanded, each word punctuated by a violent shake. But Marcus, damn him, remained silent, his lips pressed into a stubborn line.

The room was filled with his strained breathing and the roar of blood in my ears. With every second of his silence, my desperation clawed higher, scratching at my insides like a caged animal.

"Fine." My voice was a low growl as I drew back my arm and let loose the fury coiled inside me. My fist crashed into his jaw, the impact jarring my bones. Marcus's head snapped sideways, a thin trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth.

"Talk!" I hit him again, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing cruelly in the enclosed space.

"Please," he slurred, nearly senseless now, his face a grotesque palette of purples and reds. "No more..."

"Last chance, Marcus."

His eyes met mine, and for a second, I thought he would break. But he remained silent.

Ivy's face suddenly flashed before my eyes, her words of rejection stinging like a fresh wound. The memory only fueled my anger, coursing through me like a wildfire.

Without hesitation, I strode over to Marcus and unleashed my fury upon him, fists connecting with flesh and ribs cracking beneath the force of my blows.

Each kick was accompanied by a rush of adrenaline and a surge of satisfaction as I unleashed all the pent-up frustration and heartache that had been building inside of me. The sound of bones breaking and my own ragged breath filled the air as I let out every ounce of rage within me.

I stepped back, panting, staring down at the broken figure crumpled at my feet. The sight brought satisfaction, a sense of triumph even though I didn't get my answer yet.

"Get him cleaned up," I muttered to no one in particular, turning my back on Marcus. 

I stormed out of the dank cellar, the stench of sweat and fear clinging to me like a second skin. The air outside was a blast of heat against my face, but it did nothing to cool the fire that raged within. 

My mind was set. Tonight would be the night. She will be mine whether she wants it or not. I'll take her, claim her body as my own, and make her beg for more. No resistance will stop me from having my way with her and she will give in to my desires.