Forced Marriage To The Psychotic Billionaire ( Book 2)

Chapter 45: The Wound

A car drove roughly into the gate of the Andino mansion and came to a halt. The gatekeeper peeked from the security cam to see who it was before pushing the buttons. The gate flew open, and the car roared to life again. Driving with force and then parking haphazardly, it came to a stop.

A man jumped out of the car and went straight into the house. He took the stairs, and in two leaps, he was up. Going straight for Urso Andino's room, he pushed it open, but no one was in there. He checked a couple of rooms before slowly retreating to the art room. Soon as he pushed the door to the room open, he spotted the man he was looking for.

"Who is th..." Soon as he whipped his head around to question the intruder, he felt a hand around his neck, lifting him from the ground up and throwing him against the wall. As he struggled to breathe on the floor, the man approached him and placed a heavy boot on his stomach.

"You pathetic son of a bitch!" He spat on him, his eyes filled with disdain. Twisting his legs on the stomach, he wanted to hurt him as much as he had.

"Adriano?" He struggled to say. His body twisted in pain.

"It's Markris to you bastard!" His hands twisted into a fist. Every muscle in his body tensed as he fought the urge to punch a hole into his father's chest. Any other man would have been dead the minute he walked in through that door, but this demon just had to be the man that gave him life.

"Ple-a---"

"No, you shut up and listen. Three months, three whole months spent repaying the debt you fucking owe! I've been beaten, tortured, used as remuneration for your greed, and you didn't for once think to show up!" He shut his eyes tight, the violent images flashing through his eyes.

"Out of everyone, you should have known I was missing. Yet, here you are in your mansion, enjoying the peace and solitude my sweat and blood bought you. Never again, though. This is the last you'll hear from me. And if you ever come even an inch close to me or anyone I love ever again, I'll kill you with my bare hands." He raised the boot again, rage seeping through his eyes. Just as he was about to bring it down on the older man, he paused midway.

The tiny sobs from him made him look like the older man he was. Laying down on that floor, he looked nothing like the Urso Andino he knew. He looked every bit of his age and even more pathetic.

"Ad- ple- list." He stretched his hands, trying to reach out to him. The little movement caused an implode of air to his chest, and he began to cough violently, spouting blood.

"You're dead to me," Markris whispered, putting his legs down. Turning around swiftly, he took to his heels.

The drive out of his father's house was even more hasty. He knew he was driving like a madman, but he couldn't help himself. For the first time in the last three months, he was a free man. He didn't want to think about what he had to do to secure his freedom.

Being in motion and the thought of where he was heading to were the only things keeping him away from the darkness of his mind. He didn't care what he looked like At that moment.

All he knew or even cared about was that by the time he drove into his compound, he would see her, and it would all be okay. With that thought in mind, he took the turn to his estate. Soon as his gate came into view, a feeling he couldn't describe soared through his veins like a rushing wind.

He drove to the gate and stopped. It took a minute of honking before Antoine came out to see who it was.

"It's me, Antoine." He called, but he couldn't quite tell what the man was thinking with his eyes so clearly disengaged.

"You who?" He said, taking steps backward.

"What do you mean, me who? Me, Markris!" He said, scrunching his face. However, his eyes widened when he saw Antoine's hand moving downwards.