Betrayed Bride: Claimed By The Ruthless Boss

A violent jolt sent a shockwave through Alyssa's spine.

She gasped, her eyes flying open into pitch blackness. The canvas bag smelled of dust and industrial fabric. She was lying on the cold, vibrating metal floor of a moving van.

Her limbs felt like lead. The drug still coated her brain in a thick fog.

The van slammed on its brakes. Alyssa slid across the metal floor, her head cracking hard against the side panel. A sharp ringing pierced her ears.

Outside, heavy iron gates groaned open. The aggressive barking of guard dogs echoed through the night air.

The back doors of the van were ripped open. Cold night wind rushed in.

Rough hands grabbed the canvas bag and unzipped it. Two men dragged her out by her arms.

Blinding security lights hit her face. Alyssa squinted, her vision blurry. Looming ahead was a massive, terrifying gothic estate. Its sharp spires cut into the black sky.

A stern man in a black suit—the butler—stood on the gravel. He was tall and gaunt, with a hard, angular face and eyes that held no warmth. He looked down at her ruined wedding dress with absolute disgust.

He flicked his wrist.

Two thick-built maids stepped forward. They grabbed Alyssa under her armpits and dragged her toward the house.

Alyssa's feet dragged over the gravel, then over polished hardwood. They pulled her down a long, freezing corridor. The antique wall sconces flickered with yellow light. The air smelled of old wood and strong chemical preservatives.

They stopped in front of a heavy oak door wrapped in a thick iron chain.

The butler pulled a rusted brass key from his pocket. The sound of the key turning in the lock was deafening in the silent hallway.

The door groaned open. A blast of freezing air hit Alyssa's face.

The maids shoved her hard. Alyssa tripped over her heavy skirt and fell onto the dusty carpet inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. The heavy lock clicked into place.

Alyssa pushed herself up onto her elbows, her chest heaving. Pale moonlight bled through the windows. The windows were bolted shut with thick iron bars, the glass panes intact.

The room was massive and decaying. The furniture was covered in white sheets.

As her mind raced, a chilling memory surfaced. While she was being dragged down the freezing corridor, her head lolling against her chest, she had faintly heard the two maids whispering, completely convinced she was unconscious.

"Another one for the Beast of the East Wing," one maid had muttered. "Master Kenny is going to tear her apart."

"The last bride they threw in there lasted three days," the other had replied, her voice trembling. "They carried her out covered in blood. Ever since the fire ruined his face, he just likes to hear them scream."

Alyssa's heart slammed against her ribs as the memory echoed in her mind. The words wrapped around her throat.

She forced herself to stand. Her legs shook violently. She rushed to the window and grabbed the iron bars, pulling with all her remaining strength. They didn't budge.

She ran to the door and pounded her fists against the thick wood. "Let me out! Help!"

Silence.

Panic clawed at her chest. She backed away from the door, retreating into the darkest corner of the room next to a massive wardrobe. She grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from a side table, gripping it with white knuckles.

Then, a sound came from the opposite wall.

A slow, agonizing scratching. Like nails dragging across hardwood.

Alyssa stopped breathing. She pressed her back against the wall.

A hidden door in the paneling slowly pushed open. The hinges shrieked.

A heavy, suffocating scent flooded the room. Cuban cigars mixed with the sharp, sterile sting of medical alcohol.

A massive shadow stepped through the hidden door. The man was huge, his shoulders blocking out the faint light from the passage behind him.

He let out a low, ragged breath. It sounded like an animal in agonizing pain.

Alyssa's hands shook so hard the candlestick rattled. The madman. Kenny.

The shadow slowly turned his head. Even in the darkness, she could feel his eyes lock onto her corner.

He had found his prey.