Alesia's POV.
A scream tore from my throat before I even realized it. I dropped everything and ran straight to Antonio.
I dropped to my knees beside him, throwing myself over his battered body, shielding him the only way I could. His blood smeared across my arms, warm and sticky, but I didn't care.
A low, rough growl rumbled behind me—deep, animalistic, displeased. The sound sent a chill down my spine.
"Move," he ordered, calm but deadly.
I shook my head, tightening my hold on Antonio. "Please… don't hurt him." I tightened my grip for a breath, then slowly pulled back to check him. Antonio flinched when my hands moved over his ribs, blood drying at his temple. One eye was already swollen shut. He kept blinking like he was trying to make the world steady.
"Are you okay?" I cried. My voice broke. He could barely focus.
I turned to Jericho, fury burning through the fear. "What have we done to you?" I spat. "Why are you hurting him? Why bring my husband into this?"
Jericho watched me like he was amused by my outrage. He shrugged. "You didn't tell her?" My gaze dropped from him to Antonio.
"Tell me what?" I demanded
Jericho's lips curved into a slow, cruel smile. "Well, darling," he drawled, "your husband here owes me money."
I froze. The words hit harder than a slap. "What?"
Antonio shook his head weakly. "Alesia, I—I was going to fix it—"
"Fix it?" Jericho repeated, almost laughing. "
I turned back to Antonio, my voice cracking. "How much?" Perhaps it was the debt we are in? But how come Jericho is the one? We had borrowed the money from bank.
Antonio hesitated, lips trembling. He didn't answer fast enough.
Jericho did. "One hundred and sixty grand. With interest."
My stomach dropped. I stared at my husband—no, at the stranger kneeling before me. "One hundred and sixty grand?!" The words tore from me before I could stop them.
One hundred and sixty? We only owed forty. How the hell did it turn into that?
"I—I had to use some of it for the shop… and your father's treatment…" Antonio's voice shook, eyes darting everywhere but mine. He couldn't even finish.
My chest tightened until it hurt. One hundred and sixty thousand. I couldn't even make that in a year—maybe not in three. And if the person he owed was Jericho—the man who had made it no secret what he wanted from me—it wasn't just debt anymore. It was a death sentence.
"W-we'll pay," I said quickly, my voice trembling so badly it barely sounded like mine.
Jericho tilted his head, amused. "How?"
"I'll… I'll find a way," I whispered. "Please, just give us more time."
"I'm afraid I can't, darling. See, I gave your husband seven months to gather it—then two more to stall." He crooked the gun, the movement casual, deliberate. "Now I either take what's owed, or i take his life in exchange."
"No!" I screamed, dragging Antonio closer until his cheek pressed to mine. "We can pay. We will pay. Please—"
He snapped to his feet. "I don't have time for this. Take him."
Two men hauled Antonio up. He clutched at me, begging. I reached for him, fingers useless against their grips.
"I will do anything." The words tore out of me before I could stop them.
"Anything?"
I closed my eyes, still curled against Antonio, and nodded.
He sat back in the chair, watching us. "Antonio." He called. My husband forced his eyes open. "Y—yes?"
"Three months."
My brain stuttered. "What?"
"I will have your wife strip for me for three months," Jericho said, slow and even. "In exchange, I clear the debt. I'll add fifty thousand for her—because she's worth it. Do you accept?
My whole world shatters as I watch my husband—the man I have been married to for five year said yes without any kind of hesitation but excitement in his voice.
"Antonio?" My voice cracked, disbelief cutting through the air. "You can't be serious."
He avoided my eyes, still half-kneeling, his split lip trembling. "Alesia… please, just do it. It's only three months."
"Only?" I repeated, my voice rising. "You're selling me, Antonio! To him!" I jabbed a finger toward Jericho, who sat quietly watching, that faint, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Jericho leaned back in the chair, elbows resting lazily on the armrest. "Don't look at me like I'm the villain, darling," he said smoothly. "It's not my fault your husband decided to spend money on other women".
"What other—"
Jericho's fingers bit into my arm as he yanked me against his chest. I could smell the faint trace of smoke and leather on him.
"God, you're gorgeous," he murmured, almost like it was a compliment and a threat all at once. His breath ghosted my cheek.
"You should have really accepted spending the night with me, Alesia. Perhaps I might have been in a good mood and pardon your husband but now look at you..". He leaned closer until I could feel the warmth of his words in my ear. "You'll be in my house. On my bed. Attending to my every need for three months."
A shudder of disgust ran through me, but my body wouldn't move. I stood frozen in his grip, powerless, my fingers curling helplessly at my sides.
Jericho's thumb brushed along my jaw as though I belonged to him already. "You have three days to make a decision," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I'll be back then with the contract."
He leaned down just enough that his lips almost grazed my temple. "Keep this with you, sweetheart—contract or not, I will be taking you."