Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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For a few seconds, I just stood there in the doorway, completely at a loss for breath.

It wasn’t fear of Lorenzo harming me that left me breathless; that would’ve almost been simpler to deal with.

No, I was terrified because I had just stepped into a room and seen the true nature of my husband when he thought no one was watching.

Again...

The captive was bound to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room, his head hanging low, struggling to even breathe.

One of his hands was severely injured, wrapped in a blood-stained cloth that barely concealed the extent of his injuries.

Beside him was a metal tray, its contents arranged with a chilling neatness, like someone who had done this sort of thing before and wasn’t bothered by it in the least.

Severed fingers...

Yeah, not a very nice scene to walk in on.

Then there was Lorenzo, he stood next to the chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the dark fabric of his shirt splattered with blood around the cuffs.

There were thin streaks running across his forearms, and another smear near his wrist.

He kept calmly wiping the blood from his hands with a clean cloth as if he’d just finished washing up.

He wasn’t breathing hard, e wasn’t yelling. He didn’t even look particularly angry.

That’s what made it so much worse. There was no sign of a loss of control. No wild fury for me to attribute to adrenaline, this was calculated.

This was Lorenzo deciding how much pain a person should endure and carrying it out with the same calm demeanor he had when signing business papers.

I gulped, the captive lifted his head a fraction and our eyes locked.

There was something in his expression that made my stomach churn, perhaps it was fear.

Maybe it was the realization that, despite everything he’d done, he was still terrified of the man standing beside him.

Lorenzo wiped one hand clean before moving to the other, then he turned to me. His eyes scanned my face, down to my bandaged wrist, and back up.

His expression hardly shifted. "You should go back to bed, caro."

I was speechless. I glanced at the man in the chair, then back at Lorenzo. "T...that’s all...you have to say?"

Lorenzo flicked his gaze toward the clock. "It’s late."

"I can see that, Dracula."

"You shouldn’t have left the room, you need your rest after what happened earlier."

"Apparently, I shouldn’t have left the room, because this is what happens when I wander around."

His attention returned to the captive. "You shouldn’t have been wandering around at all."

I almost let out a laugh, not because it was funny, but because if I didn’t, I was pretty sure I was going to start screaming.

"You were cutting his fingers off."

Lorenzo’s gaze fixated on me again. "Yes."

It was so matter-of-fact that it twisted my stomach, there was no denial, no attempt to conceal what I’d seen, no justification. He simply acknowledged it.

My voice came out softer than I anticipated. "Stop it."

Lorenzo’s expression flickered just a little. "Alex."

"I said stop it." The second time was firmer.

My hands trembled, and I hated that he could likely see it. I hated even more that I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him.

He studied me for several tense seconds before putting down the cloth. "You want me to stop?"

"Yes."

"He would have killed you." His words hit me harder than they should have.

I glanced at the captive, recalling the weight of him pinning me to the ground, the grip around my throat, the knife, the awful glint of metal under the streetlight, and the taste of blood in my mouth.

My stomach twisted. "I know w...what he tried to do."

"Then you understand why I’m doing this, don’t you?"

"No actually."

Lorenzo’s brows pulled together slightly. "I get why you’re angry."

"I’m not angry."

"You look angry."

"I’m horrified." That made him hesitate as I took a shaky breath. "I don’t want to know what he deserves, I don’t want to know what you think people deserve, I just..."

I swallowed hard. "I don’t want this to happen to him."

Something in his expression froze. For a heartbeat, I thought he might refuse to comply.

Instead, he turned toward the men standing against the wall. "Enough."

The command was delivered softly, but the men instantly moved toward the captive.

"Keep him alive," Lorenzo added. "We’ll finish this later."

I shot him a sharp look. "Finish?"

Lorenzo met my gaze. "Tomorrow."

"That’s not exactly comforting."

"Wasn’t meant to be."

The men began wheeling the captive away. I stepped back as they passed, unable to help but watch the injured man being taken through another door.

Once it closed, I turned to Lorenzo.

He picked up his jacket from a chair and walked away and I followed him out. Apparently, I had no self-preservation instincts left.

"Dracula." I called out as I kept striding forward. "Who sent them after me?"

"We don’t know."

"Oh, is that why you were torturing him? For information?"

"Yes."

"So he hasn’t told you anything?"

"Not enough." He replied.

I hurried to catch up with him, damn those long legs of his. "Then why did you stop?"

His gaze flicked my way. "You asked me to."

I nearly stumbled over my feet, that shouldn’t have affected me, but it did.

I hid the feeling behind irritation. "Well, don’t get all sentimental on me now."

"I’m not."

"Good."

We continued walking through the quiet hallway. The estate at night felt so different. During the day, there were servants bustling around, doors opening and shutting, muffled conversations floating through the halls.

But at this hour, everything seemed larger and emptier, my footsteps echoed behind him.

"Who would want me dead?" I wondered aloud.

Lorenzo smirked, "The list is longer than you might think."

I narrowed my eyes at his back. "That’s such a terrible thing to say."

"It’s the truth."

"Could you at least lie sometimes? Just for morale?"

"No."

"You’re really bad at comfort."

"I’ve noticed."

"Is it because I’m married to you?"

Lorenzo slowed down, and I almost walked right into him. He glanced over his shoulder. "Possibly."

"Possibly?"

"There are people who might see you as a vulnerability."

I frowned. "A vulnerability?"

"Something that could be used against me."

I stared at him. "So I’m a target because I’m your spouse."

"You’re a target because you’re associated with me."

"That’s somehow worse."

He resumed walking, and I followed. "I mean, I know I can be annoying as fuck, but I don’t think that’s enough reason for someone to delete my ass."

"Your personality isn’t the issue."

I gasped dramatically. "Wow. A compliment."

"I didn’t compliment you."

"You basically did."

"I said you’re not worth killing because you’re annoying." He stated.

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