Chapter 92. A True Psychopath

Calla couldn’t believe she was taken by the same man Rico had left her for at the ball. Who is he and what does he want with her? Who is he to Rico?

Her face was a few inches away from his. She could see every wrinkle and scar, and his dark, hollow eyes.

“For a second there, I thought you wouldn’t remember me,” he said, touching the side of Calla’s face.

She shrieked at his touch, pulling her face away and shuddering in fear.

“What… do you want with me?” She managed to ask, weakly.

Marco chuckled low in his chest. He stood straight, both hands in his pockets.

“I need you to understand something, girl,” he started, pacing slowly. “I ask the questions. You don’t fucking say a damn thing unless I ask you. Do you understand?”

Calla didn’t reply.

The grin slipped and he suddenly grabbed her jaw, tight and painful. She winced, twisting to break free. She was terrified he’d crack her jaw at any minute.

“I… understand,” she struggled to