Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

I stagger backward, my feet shuffling through weeds and loose gravel. Somewhere in my periphery, a black dog lurches in my direction, but every ounce of my attention is locked on the window above.

Valentino leans out waving his gun, his gray hair sticking to his flushed face. “How the fuck did you get past the sensors? Better still, how the hell did you escape a locked basement?”

My heart slams against its cage, trying to break through my chest. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I know he isn’t bluffing. If he can murder his wives for a life insurance payout, he sure as hell can shoot me in the back.

“Girl,” he barks. “Come to the fucking window!”

My blood runs cold, my gut twisting with fury and fear. Is this the moment he forces Carla to shoot me in the head as punishment for leaving the keys?

“If I have to drag you…” he says, his voice a low growl.

I can almost hear her whimper during this tense standoff. My throat tightens. What if Carla left those keys on purpose and responded to his advances to give me an opening? An opening I wasted by waking up the dog?

Options flicker across my mind like playing cards, making my brow break out in a sweat. When Valentino turns his head, I take a tentative step backward.

He yanks Carla closer, his fingers twisting into her hair. “This is your doing, cunt. How did you let her talk you into escaping?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “Please, Dad⁠—”

“I told you not to call me that,” he snarls through broken teeth and presses the gun into her temple.

My stomach plummets. Survival instincts urge me to take advantage of this opening and run, but I can’t let him murder another woman.

“Hey,” I snap. “Why are you blaming her for the hatch?”

His gaze snaps to meet mine. “Which hatch?”

“What kind of abductor doesn’t know the exits in his own lair?”

Confusion flickers across his features. It’s just enough for him to release Carla’s hair and return his attention to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my survival instincts are calling me an idiot, but I’m tired of being a coward.

Cowardice was what broke up my relationship with Benito and twisted his love for me into contempt. Cowardice was what kept me in an abusive engagement with Samson. I’ll be damned if I allow yet another man to intimidate me into submission.

I raise my chin, glaring up into the window, where he takes the gun off her temple and points it back to me.

“Benito will want proof I’m still alive,” I say.

He flashes what’s left of his teeth. “He might pay more if I send a picture of your gaping bullet wounds.”

My jaw clicks shut.

Bellavista presses the gun into Carla’s trembling fingers. “If I find out you did something to help that ginger bitch escape, I’ll make sure a bullet finds its way up your cunt.”

“Dad,” Carla chokes out.

He smashes his fist into her cheek. “Stop calling me that!”

She drops out of view, and Valentino disappears from the window. Without meaning to, I turn around and run toward the trees.

A gunshot cracks through the air, and the barking stops. I whirl around, finding Carla back at the window pointing the pistol.

“Dad is on his way downstairs,” she says, her voice wavering. “Don’t move.”

I freeze again, my heart racing in manic circles, watching Carla mishandling the gun. She’s trembling so much that the barrel wobbles, looking like she might twitch and pull the trigger. Her eyes are wide, and filled with desperation, fear and a haze of something I’ve only ever seen on Mom.

Is he giving her drugs?

Raising my palms, I take a tentative step back. “Carla, put down the gun.”

Her grip tightens, making the pistol jerk. “He’ll kill me if I let you go.”

“How, when you’re the one who’s armed?”

I inch back, my feet crunching against the loose gravel. Valentino is almost certainly on his way down. I’m not sure if I can outrun the old bastard—he’s stronger than he looks. I have a better chance of talking sense into Carla.

“We’re no different, you know. Both stuck with abusers.”

“He isn’t⁠—”

“He just punched you in the face, and threatened to shoot you in the vagina. You just told me he’ll kill you. Why not strike at him first?”

She flinches at my words, her gaze flickering from me to the room behind her, as if expecting her father to come storming back at any second.

“He’s coming for you,” she says, her voice flat. “You should run.”

My heart plummets to my feet. Carla is too confusing to understand. A victim and an accomplice rolled into an unpredictable package. I can’t afford to waste time talking sense through her skull when my life is on the line.

The dog whines from where it’s tethered to the house’s front post, signaling approaching danger. As I step backward toward the trees, the door slams open, and Valentino bursts out with a rope.

He’s naked, with a wiry frame livid with bruises. The dog cowers, shrinking back against its chain, whimpering as Valentino storms past. I lock gazes with it for a split second—its eyes mirroring my terror.

Not daring to catch a glimpse at the appendage swinging beneath the old man’s eight pack, I spin on my heel and run.

“Don’t just stand there, you stupid little bitch!” he barks at my back. “Shoot!”

The air reverberates with another gunshot, flooding my system with a surge of cold panic. It grips my gut, powering my feet. I sprint toward the trees, wincing at the twigs and gravel digging into my soles.

Valentino’s footsteps slam into the ground, heavy and relentless, and Carla’s alarmed cries echo in my ears. Every thud of my heartbeat is a countdown to disaster, but I don’t stop. I don’t dare look back.

“Carla!” he barks, his voice sharp and furious. “Keep that gun steady, or I’ll put you down like the damn dog!”

Low-hanging branches whip at my face as I plunge into the forest. My breath comes in ragged gasps, each stride a battle against the uneven terrain.

I have no idea where I’m going, if I’m running toward civilization or capture, but I push harder, tripping over roots and rocks jutting up from the forest floor.

Valentino’s shouts blend with the dog’s panicked barks, a cacophony of fear that drowns even the thud of my pulse. Thick woodland engulfs me from every direction, punctuating the darkness with intermittent bursts of dazzling sunlight. I squint, my eyes streaming with tears.

“You can’t outrun me, you red-headed whore!” he howls, sounding like he’s enjoying the hunt.

Every muscle screams for mercy, and my lungs burn for oxygen, but I can’t wait to catch even a single breath. Quickening my pace, I push through the underbrush as if the devil is snapping at my heels.

Valentino’s breath becomes ragged and excited. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs amplifies my terror. He’s getting closer, reveling in his sadistic pleasure. His manic laughter echoes through the dense foliage, chilling my blood to the marrow.

He’s done this before.

Most likely with at least one of his murdered wives.

Just when I think I’ve gained some distance, my foot lands on a layer of sticks and leaves. The ground beneath me collapses. There’s no time to react—just a sickening lurch as I plummet, my world spinning in a chaotic blur. I hit the bottom hard, my hip and shoulder slamming into a rough surface lined with rocks.

Pain shoots through my left side, and I gasp, choking on air filled with dust. Dirt and debris rain down on my head, and it feels like I’ve reached the bottom of an avalanche. When the cascade finally settles, I blink up at a jagged rim tangled with broken branches.

I’ve fallen into a pit trap.

My ears ring, making his insane laughter seem fainter, but I’m not about to trust my screwed-up senses. If I don’t move, Valentino will catch up in minutes.

Gritting my teeth through the pain, I force myself to stand, and reach for one of the branches hanging over the pit. I pull myself up, but the wood snaps under my weight, sending me falling back on my ass.

“Shit,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my eyes pricking with frustrated tears.

I claw at the walls, but they’re too crumbly, too steep. Whoever dug this pit knew exactly what they were doing. When the warmth on my back vanishes, I turn my head and squint up to the sky, finding Valentino’s silhouette looming at the edge of the trap.

Sunlight illuminates his gray hair like a halo, but there’s nothing divine about his warped figure. He grins down like a hungry hyena, running his tongue along his jagged teeth.

“See something you like, ginger minge?”

A knot tightens around my throat.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t. Look.

Gravity pulls my eyes down his bruised chest, past the faded scars and wiry gray hair scattered across his abdominal muscles, to the hollow curve of his hips.

The penis hanging between his legs is long and thin, still glistening from sex. Revulsion spasms through my digestive system, making me gag. I tear my gaze away, double over, and retch.

He snickers. “Your mother liked it well enough.”

“She didn’t,” I snarl through the bitter taste of bile and pull myself back to standing. “She was only with you for the money, you bastard.”

Valentino just laughs, the sound echoing down into the pit. “Insult me all you like. It’s the last thing you’ll enjoy before I deliver your head to that arrogant bastard in a Tiffany box.”