Chapter 21

Alice scoffed, rolling her eyes at Victoria with undisguised disdain.

What did she know?

What if she didn’t?

Alice had always suspected the Sullivans knew exactly who that man was—and she did too. He must have been a rival they wanted dead, but couldn’t eliminate openly. So, they’d sent her to him—a final indulgence before his grave swallowed him whole.

The man had died from excess. From drowning in pleasure.

"I don’t want to hear it," Alice said flatly.

"You—" Victoria’s hand lashed out, striking Alice across the cheek. The sharp crack echoed in the warehouse. "You don’t have a choice. You’re going to hear the truth before you die. Did you ever wonder why you lived with us for eight years? Why my mother and I despised you? Did you really think it was just because we fed and clothed you? Alice, haven’t you ever questioned the real reason?"

Alice lifted her gaze, meeting Victoria’s eyes.

She had wondered.

Why had her mother sent her to the Sullivans at twelve? Why had they promised to take her in, only to treat her like an unwanted burden?

And her mother’s death—Alice burned to know the truth.

Victoria’s lips curled into a vicious smirk. "It’s because you were always—"

BANG!

The warehouse door exploded inward.

A flood of armed men stormed in, weapons drawn, surrounding a figure clad in black.

Victoria’s face drained of color. "A-Alexander?"

His men moved like lightning, disarming and disabling the thugs in seconds. Cries of pain filled the air as they were beaten into submission.

Victoria stood frozen, speechless with terror.

Alexander strode toward Alice, his expression unreadable. She was tied to a pillar, her face pale with exhaustion, her eyes hollow—until she saw him.

Then, color flooded her cheeks.

Her lashes fluttered, tears spilling over.

In that moment, she felt something indescribable—a desperate, overwhelming relief.

Alexander’s jaw tightened as he untied her. The moment the ropes fell away, her legs gave out.

He caught her effortlessly, sweeping her into his arms before turning toward Victoria. His gaze was arctic, his presence like death itself.

Without a word, he lifted his foot—clad in steel-toed boots—and aimed a brutal kick at Victoria.

If it landed, she wouldn’t walk again.

But at the last second, his boot halted, mere inches from her face.

Victoria’s wide, terrified eyes met his.

He lowered his foot.

Then, cradling Alice against his chest, he turned and walked away, his voice a lethal whisper.

"Cut out their tongues. Break every bone. Then hand them to the authorities."

His men bowed. "Yes, Master Alexander."

And with that, he carried Alice out of the warehouse, leaving devastation in his wake.