His Mafia Prince
Chapter 122: He Has His Reasons

Chapter 122: He Has His Reasons

(ARLO)

"How did you find me?" I ask quietly, still puzzled by how he traced me into the thick of the woods.

"I could just... feel where you were." He mumbles.

I still don’t understand how that is possible. But it is in fact what happened. I saw him with my own. "It makes no sense. None of this makes sense."

He nods. "I know." He nods quietly.

I stare at the road, watching the sun slither down the windshield. The way the rain patters on the roof of the SUV make me feel like we are the only ones in the world. "Are you taking me back to Sasha?"

"Yes." He revs the engine as we speak.

"But he wants me dead. He is definitely not going to be happy."

"Both of you are fucking babies. You’re driving me nuts."

"Then just let me go... Miles, please." I reach out and grab his arms. I feel his muscles tense beneath my touch. "Please, go tell Sasha you didn’t find me. On a night like this, the lie will be believable. Just let me go, Miles. Please."

He shakes my hand off and puts the gear into drive. He does a U-turn and takes the road that leads back to his boss’ home. I imagine the horror that awaits me and my gut churns. Miles has to let me go, or else, I’m fucked.

"Why is Sasha holding me prisoner? Why won’t he just kill me and get this over with?"

"He has his reasons." He shrugs.

I hug myself and lean on the door. "This is bullshit." Miles glances at me and then turns on the heater. Hot air begins to fill the compartment and I sigh. The heat soaks into my chilled body. The wipers swish rhythmically as Miles drives along. "You marked me. Aren’t you supposed to take care of me?"

He grunts and remains silent.

"You’re taking me back to a man that wants to kill me. How does that reconcile with you as my alpha?"

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. "The situation is way more complicated than you think."

"To put it mildly," I whisper.

"Stop caring innocent when indeed you are the one who started this entire clusterfuck, Arlo. This is your fault." He sounds more angry than frustrated.

"I don’t think we will ever agree on that," I mutter, rubbing my hands together as I vent.

"Since when do we agree on things?"

I turn to him and frown. "Tell me, doesn’t it bother your instincts that your boss wants to kill me? Doesn’t it bother you that he wants to punish me? Or is that just okay with you?"

"No. It doesn’t bother me because he is my boss. I do whatever he wants me to do."

"Right. That’s what I thought. You know... I’ve always heard that you follow him blindly." I snap. "I guess you are confirming that to me now."

"Wow, you think that’s an insult to me?" He shakes his head. "You should be so lucky to inspire the kind of loyalty and faith Sasha does. If you weren’t as stubborn as you are, you could pick a thing or two from him."

I sigh. "The only thing I want is for Sasha to die, or suffer horribly in the very least." I avert my haze again and stare outside the window. Everything outside looks so blurry against the rain-splattered glass.

"And with that attitude, you think I’d really let you go free?" You think I can let you off my sight so that you can go scheming more?" He sounds done. "That’s not an option. We have to find another solution for the mess that you have created."

"We both know that the solution is for Sasha to die."

He sighs. "Maybe he has other thoughts on the matter."

I scowl. "What do you mean?"

"We will talk more on that as soon as we get to the house."

"Why won’t you just tell me what it is now?"

He frowns. "Because I’m driving and this discussion wants my full attention."

His answer does little to calm me and only spikes my anxiety more. What the hell is it that he needs to tell me but doesn’t want to say now? Or that is just another lie? Or is Sasha considering sparing my life? Why would he consider that? Or maybe he is considering torturing me instead. I know Sasha will want me to pay one way or the other for my stubbornness and rebellion. But does he want that in the form of my hands? Or my head? All manner of wild thoughts running in my mind make me shudder. What horrible things would Sasha do to me that don’t actually entail killing me?

"You could at least give me a hint." I will him softly.

He is quiet. Classic Miles. He presses his lips tight as he squints at the road ahead.

For the next suspended minutes, we drive in tense silence and my stomach turns when the familiar iron-wrought gates come in sight again. I was close, so close to freedom, but now I’m back in this mansion of a prison just because Miles can’t say no to Sasha. Frustration eats at me and dig my arms into the leather of the armrest.

Miles presses something on the visor and the gates slide open. He drives through and takes the cobblestone road that leads towards the porch. He parks near the fountain and gets out, rounding the car to open the passenger seat door.

A thought crosses my mind that maybe Miles is waiting for me with a surly smile, but no one is in the foyer to receive us. Miles leads me up the wide spiral staircase and down the hallway into the room where they tied me before.

Once we are inside the bedroom, Miles shoots me a surly look as he peels off his damp jacket and shirt. He looks at me almost as if he cares for me and feels sorry for me. Much as he hates to admit it, I know part of him feels bad for me. But there is not much that he can do because he is obligated to follow his boss’s orders. It is difficult for him to choose between me and duty. "You should get out of those clothes and get a hot shower."

"I want to know what you wouldn’t tell me back in the car," I demand.

He laughs gruffly. "Is that so? Are you by any means under the impression that I care what you want?"

"No." I scowl. "I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me what’s in Sasha’s mind." I look at him with a softened expression, hoping it does something to allow him to finally tell me what he is hiding. If Sasha is going to torture me, I might as well know now and brace myself for it early. Or if he is considering other options, it might as well serve me to know. The fact that he doesn’t want to tell me is what peaks my curiosity worse.

"I’ll tell you what you want to know as soon as you start listening and do what I ask of you, Arlo." He sounds more patient now. "Tyler brought some new clothes in the bathroom for you. You’re almost of a similar build. They should fit you just fine. Get in the shower. We will talk when you’re done."

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