CHAPTER 12.
Ciara was taken aback by his brash reaction. For the next few seconds, no one said a word. His haughty, blazing eyes were on her, but they were spiked with confusion and another deep, raw, sizzling emotion that she couldn't place a finger on.
She took another step back, wondering what the hell was going on. This was Jason, right? It had to be him. But then, it felt like it wasn't. What the fuck was going on?
Waking up on the bed a few minutes ago, she'd felt one thing first. The intense, mesmerizing scent. It filled the room, latched on the shirt she found herself wearing, on the bed sheet, and her skin.
She wondered where she was. The last thing she remembered was being fucked by that Mafia Don. It was the most humiliating experience and recalling it filled her with rage. When this was all over and she got out of whatever mess she was in, she would definitely come for him.
She recalled being saved by a man when those assholes tried to burn her face. The man looked like Jason.
Ciara shook her head, slapping her cheek repeatedly to force herself to snap out of her hallucination. It couldn't have been Jason. She was in Italy. Jason was rumored to have been lost or dead.
Looking around the exquisite room, Ciara wondered where she was. She tried getting down the bed but her body was aching shitless. It took a second to implore her wolf side and suck up every bit of the pain and bruises.
With a deep breath and free from the pain, she left the room, tiptoeing into the kitchen. She heard noises there. And then seeing him standing there, gawking at her made her jump on him without thinking.
But with his reaction, she was forced to think. Second thoughts. Third thoughts. Fifth thoughts. What was going on?
"I'm gonna ask you again, and this better be the last. Who in the fuck's name is Jason?" He asked glacially.
His steel grip around the beer can caused it to squeeze and the liquid spilled on the floor. Still, he didn't move and was staring at her like he would eat her up.
"Jason, what do you mean?" Ciara said with an awkward chuckle. Then she stilled. "Wait. You're Jason, right?"
"The fuck I am!" He pushed past her, tossing the can into the trash. She felt his hot stares boring holes at her back but she couldn't turn around. She was lost in her thoughts.
He had to be Jason. There was no way in hell two people could be so identical. Something was wrong, Ciara thought, letting her thoughts go back to the events that led her to leave the Pack.
After her failed attempt to kill Hara, she fled Red Moon Pack and took the first flight to Europe. It's been years already. She never heard about Ryder, Jason, the warlords, or the Pack.
Perhaps, was she back to the Pack? Was that why Jason was standing right in front of her? But then, where was Ryder, Hara, Giveon, and everyone else? Where was Ryder? He was always with Jason. Why was she not feeling the placating aura of the Pack? What was going on?
"What did you do to your bruises?" The deep, husky menace behind her startled her, and she spun around.
His eyes were roaming her body, so intently that she felt completely naked to his stares.
"Are you really – not Jason?" Ciara stuttered.
"Are you fucking deaf or what?!" He snapped.
Ciara ran her hands frantically through her hair. She was perplexed. He looked like Jason, fuck, she could recognize the face anywhere. But his voice was different. The deep, blood-curdling, huskiness in it wasn't something Jason could pull off. And his eyes….
"Oh, My God." She gasped, clamping a hand around her mouth. "You're the guy from the nightclub…"
"Now you making sense." He chuckled, with his hands in his pockets.
"You the guy who kidnapped me and also saved me…" it didn't make sense to her. How could he be both?
"I might have saved your face from getting burned but I could still effortlessly send you to hell if you don't start talking."
Ciara shook her head frantically. Nothing made sense. Giveon had called to warn her at the nightclub. He said she was dancing with the Capo of the Italian Mafia. If he was the one, then he really isn't Jason. If he was Jason, Giveon would have told her, right?
Wait. So he's the Capo who looked fucking identical to Jason, but not Jason…?
"I'm gonna start by asking you about your asshole boyfriend, Vlad, or do I say, Tyson. Where the fuck–"
"Shut the fuck up. I'm trying to think!" Ciara yelled, ruffling her hair.
"What the hell did you just say?" He let out a low grumble, and in the next second, he grabbed her hair.
His vicious grip fisted a handful of her hair and the other hand went around her neck, as he forced her to move.
"Let me go!" Ciara struggled as he pulled her into the lounge. With a smoldering force, he made her go on her knees, hitting her head on the table. She yelled out in pain, patting his hand but he didn't let her go. He knelt on one knee beside her.
"I saved your ass so you belong to me. I ask the questions and you fucking answer. Try to be nasty again, and I'll blow her brain out. I got nothing to lose. Do you understand?" He rasped in her ears.
Ciara was in immense pain. Her head was throbbing from the hit on the table. His fist tangled in her hair and his hand around her neck was taking her through excruciating pain.
This wasn't Jason. Ciara concluded, feeling damned scared and helpless for the first time since last night. Jason would never have such a horror vibe. Jason would never inflict pain on her. He was too scared of her to even try. He would never manhandle her. He was Ryder's sidekick. He would never be so hostile with her.
Whoever the man beside her was, Ciara feared she was in one hell of trouble.
"Do you fucking understand?!"
"Yes!" She cried out. "Please, let me go. Please."