Crowned In Blood

Chapter 4

4

Catalina

F ernando's mansion screamed wealth—the immaculate landscaping and pristine marble facade, the towering columns with gold accents. It was more a looming palace than a relaxing home. The perfect temple for a sadistic, power-drunk man—and my gilded prison.

Fernando exited the limo, issuing low orders to two nearby men. And by the time I maneuvered myself and the ridiculous weight of my gown out of the car, he was gone.

Thankfully, neither man tried to assist me. I needed to be careful around them. They looked at me much like Fernando did, as if they owned me and could take me whenever they pleased.

Refusing to show my disgust, I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin, waiting for them to address me or move.

"El jefe se consiguió una puta bonita, ?no?" one guard chuckled. ? *

"?Crees que el jefe nos dejará follárnosla?" the other said, licking his lips. ? *

"Sí, si ella todavía le queda algo de espíritu por romper." ? *

They laughed, one slapping the other's chest, cheering each other on.

My heart thundered in my chest.

Publicly, my father had all but disowned his Hispanic heritage, wanting to appeal to the rich white men and women who would get him elected. But privately, he demanded I learn Spanish.

I knew exactly what they said.

Fernando would do whatever it took to fuck me, and according to his guards, he wasn't above passing me around.

I had to survive. I would fight Fernando tooth and nail to keep myself safe. But as the guards led me through the heavy wooden doors, I found nothing I could use as a weapon.

The foyer was lined with statues secured into glass arches, followed by artwork any museum would be jealous of. He even had a rare Fabergé egg.

Fernando appeared to be a collector of whatever he deemed beautiful, caging it away behind glass, only taking it out when he wanted it to be put on display—myself included.

The corridor ended at a large fountain, which appeared to be the heart of the mansion. Turning to the right, the guards took me up a grandiose staircase, then down a hallway. I counted doors, windows, but no additional guards save the men beside me. It made me even more wary. Fernando had something sinister planned to keep me here.

Eventually, we stopped at a pair of large, dark wooden doors. One guard pushed inside while the other looked over my body with darkened eyes.

I didn't acknowledge him and instead focused on trying to calm myself down. I didn't think Fernando was in there, nor did I think he'd let his guards have me first. But if I was wrong and I let my panic overtake me, I wouldn't be able to defend myself.

When the guard returned and nodded to the one beside me, I was shoved inside, flying forward. My gown's weight tangled around my legs, and I fell.

They laughed again, closing the door behind them, muttering about how stupid and weak I was. But I couldn't let their words get to me.

The moment the heavy lock clicked behind me, I sprang into action, taking stock of my surroundings.

The large room boasted a king-sized bed, dresser, tables, and chairs. Everything was in its place, in complete immaculate opulence. Even the three doors were ornate, especially the one leading to the balcony.

Fear clawed at my throat, but I pushed it back. I needed something to arm myself. Fernando was too large for me to fight head on, but if I could surprise him, I might have a chance.

I scoured the dresser and the nightstand. Nothing. I tore through the closet, flinging his neatly folded clothes everywhere.

I needed to find a knife, a screwdriver, even a letter opener, anything small enough to hide but sharp enough to do damage, but there was nothing.

Running toward the other nightstand, I nearly tripped on my gown.

Ahh! I can't fight like this. I need to get this stupid dress off!

With shaking hands, I twisted and bent my arms until I found the buttons. One by one, I slipped them through their closure until I was almost free.

Then the door unlocked.

Move. Move. Move! But I couldn’t. My breathing was ragged; my body trembled, fueled by adrenaline.

It was too late.

"There were a lot of things I expected to find when I walked in here tonight, Catalina, but you getting undressed for me wasn’t one of them.” Fernando smirked. “I didn't think you'd be so excited for me to stuff my cock into you."

I choked on the bile rising in my throat, forcing it back down. But I couldn't keep myself from shaking. "The thought of you touching me makes me sick."

"I'm going to do more than touch you." He shrugged off his blazer, letting it drop to the floor. "I'm going to fuck you, and when I take your virginity, I'm going to make it hurt. Punishment for the way you disrespected me today."

Bitter rage boiled over, burning away my fear. I disrespected him?! What about the way he'd traded me like an object or planned to use me like a slave? What about his guards? What about that bullshit wedding?

You haven't even fucking seen disrespect.

"Oh, it seems you're confused." I smirked, my voice deceptively calm. "You see, I gave away my virginity yesterday." The smirk faded as my resolve hardened and my voice turned razor sharp. "There's nothing left for you to take."

Fernando's face turned a deep shade of red, twisting in anger. He lunged at me and I dodged him, but I couldn't keep it up for long.

He reached for me again, and I slipped away, evading him until a painful yank at my scalp stopped me. Fernando began dragging me back by my hair as I fought to break free. Then he slammed me against the wall.

Tears blurred my vision as he began ripping off my gown. I kicked and screamed, but it was no use. He was too strong, too big. His laugh, a cruel, mocking sound, wrapped around me as if he'd already won.

He leaned in to kiss me, and I bit his lip, hard, drawing blood, and it tore as he pulled away.

He howled in pain, blood gushing down his chin as he reared back to hit me, but I kneed him in the balls, making him double over. Stripped down to meager pieces of my torn gown and underwear, I ran.

I made it to the bedroom door, but it was locked. I frantically searched the room. Then I saw it, my only way out—the balcony.

Would I survive a fall from the second-floor? Even if I landed on my feet, I'd probably break something. And what about Fernando's guards? What other traps had he set to keep me in line? Dogs? An electric fence?

What about his gun? He had to have it on him. He hadn't used it yet because he thought he'd beat me. This was just foreplay for him. But if I escaped, would he shoot me?

It doesn't matter!

The fall, the consequences, none of it mattered. I'd rather die than let him touch me, even if it meant taking my own life.

I sprinted toward the balcony. Fernando lunged toward me, but I leapt onto the bed.

Jumping off the mattress, I was almost free when he grabbed my ankle.

I fell, catching myself before my face slammed into the floor. Fernando crawled on top of me, forcing me onto my back.

Using every ounce of strength I had, I fought, screaming, growling, thrashing like a demon being dragged back to hell. But he'd pinned my legs with his own, rendering my kicks useless.

I raked my nails across his face, scratching his eye, before punching him. He yowled in pain, but it didn't faze him. Fisting my hair, he pulled my head up, and slammed me back down.

The world spun, stars burst before my eyes, and blood pulsed in my ears. He did it again and again until my body went limp, my vision hazy. Finally, he let go of my hair, ripping the last of my clothes.

No! Move, move, move! Please!

A whimper escaped me as I begged, pleading with my body to respond. My limbs were heavy, the room spinning. Still, I fought to push or shove him away, but it was no use.

"Look at you, so vulnerable, completely defenseless." He sneered, his hands gripping my hair again. "Beg, Catalina. Beg for me to not do this to you. Whimper. Cry for me."

His laugh echoed through the room.

I couldn't stop this. There was no way out. No escape. He was going to rape me.

In the end, it didn't matter how hard I tried, how hard I fought. This was always going to be the outcome. He was going to win.

My eyes closed, my body ready to give up…

No. No!

Opening my eyes, I moved my hands to fight him again.But Fernando pinned them above my head, grinding his hips against mine, his erection pressing against me.

"That's right, keep fighting me," he growled, tightening his grip on my wrists with one hand, while his other pulled down the zipper of his pants, releasing his cock.

I wiggled my hips, trying to stop him from removing my panties. His grip loosened, and I got my hands free, but he pinned them down again, my shoulder bumping the edge of a table.

Yes! If I can just ? —

I hit the table again, but it didn’t budge. Fernando reared back to punch me, and I braced for the blow.

Thunk.

His face went slack. His smile vanished, his eyes glazed over, and he collapsed on top of me.

Unable to breathe under his weight, I shoved at his shoulders, kicked at his legs, gasping for air, until finally I pulled myself from under him.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my blurry vision. There were four versions of Fernando spinning on the ground, but they were all still.

Is he dead?

I pressed on my chest, then hit it several times to calm myself down and think clearly.

What just happened? I did my best to scan the room, and while it was in shambles, none of the doors or windows were open.

I tried to stand, but the room spun, and my body shook uncontrollably. Slowly, I crawled around Fernando's body, inch by inch, until I found a vase with blood on its side.

My savior was none other than one of his prized pieces of art—a heavy, bronze antique vase.

I slumped against the floor, relief flooding through me as tears filled my eyes. Then reality set in and panic gripped me again.

Fernando's guards were still in the mansion. Clearly not close enough to hear, but I was sure they'd notice me if I ran into the street in my underwear.

And if Fernando was still alive, eventually, he would wake up and rape me.

I have to do it.

I had to be the one to end his life. But could I? I'd imagined someone's death plenty of times in the darkest corners of my mind, but to actually carry it out…

My hands shook, a tremor of fear and dark excitement. I gripped my wrist hard, using the pain as a reminder of what was at stake.

I thought back to the party, to the years of manipulation and abuse.

My view of morality was skewed. I wasn't a good person and would never claim to be. But I'd always believed there was a line I wouldn't cross, one that kept me human or at least made me better than my father. But as I stared at the man who planned to make my life a living hell, that line seemed to blur.

I didn't want to be a monster. I didn't want to be evil like Simon, Fernando, or their co-conspirators. Yet here I sat, contemplating doing something unforgivable: taking Fernando's life with my own hands.

But then I thought about today, everything I'd witnessed, even the folder Fernando had prepared. He had everything I'd ever wanted—businesses, money, influence, power. He was untouchable, but as his wife, if I killed him, it would all become mine , and why shouldn't it be?

I thought back to the wedding, how someone could have helped me, asked a question, cared . But they hadn't. They'd turned a blind eye because it didn't fit their narrative.

Why couldn't I do the same?

If I killed Fernando and his guards, I wouldn't have to run anymore. I wouldn't need to look over my shoulder anymore. I'd finally have complete control over my life through the mafia, and no one would be able to take that away from me again.

I'd save myself and claim his power as my own.

But first, I'd have to kill him, and I'd kill anyone else who dared to get in my way.

I dragged myself and the heavy vase closer to him. My hands trembled, but I clenched my teeth in resolve. I raised the vase above my head, then slammed it down with all my strength onto Fernando's skull.

My first two attempts missed, but on the third strike, I hit him. The sound was sickening, but I didn't let it deter me. I hit him, over and over, until blood pooled around him and onto the floor.

I'd hoped that was enough, that he was finally dead, and my nightmare was one step closer to being over. But as I reached down to check for a pulse, I found the bastard was still alive.

I didn't have the strength to keep hitting him, but there was no room for me to fail. Determined, I searched his body for the gun I was positive he kept on him, and found it and an extra clip at his hip.

It was heavier than I thought it would be, but once I found the small safety switch near the barrel, I flipped it off.

I grabbed a nearby pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound like it did in the movies. Pressing the gun against the back of Fernando's head, I squeezed the trigger.

The gun jerked in my hand from the recoil, and the smell of burnt gunpowder filled the air as it seared my skin. But I focused on the task at hand.

I fired two more shots for good measure, making sure he was truly dead. And when his guards finally appeared, looking for their deceased boss, I’d shoot them too. Then the empire would be mine.

* ? The boss got himself a pretty whore, didn't he?

* ? Do you think he'll let us fuck her?

* ? Yes, if she still has some spirit left to break.