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I think I’ll remain suspended like this for eternity. Maybe I’ve died and my soul is looking down at my body. The body that’s caught in a web with no way out.
“Adrian…” I whisper, trying to sound normal despite my escalating nerves. “Let him go.” “It appears he put his hand on you.” Though his tone is calm, matching the blankness in his eyes, his actions are anything but. They’re ruthless with the intention of finishing a life. “In fact, he didn’t only put his hands on you, but also his feet and his cock, which I will cut off and feed to him.”
“Touch her again and I’ll make sure you’re paralyzed for life.”
She’s right. I am a stalker. But it’s either that or torture her for answers. What am I if not the perfect villain? I prefer to do things smoothly, not harshly.
“This is called breaking and entering.” “Do you always feel the need to label everything, Lenochka?”
“That’s called coercion.” “Always with the labels, Lia. It’s getting tedious.”
“Scars mean you are alive and strong enough to survive.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll worship each of your scars until you’re able to face them, Lenochka.”
Maybe I should ship the fucker back to Russia. Some Spetsnaz training would do his personality good. If he dies there, oh well. What a fucking pity.