of my palm. When I finally release her, she's coughing again, but there isn't an ounce of sympathy left for her.
Marco opens the door to the chapel and nods at me. "The fire is out. I'll get someone in here to clean up the mess." He pauses momentarily, his eyes darting to Ivy and narrowing slightly. "But you should know the pictures of your father and brother are ruined."
Ivy sucks in a sharp breath and flinches when I grab her by the hair, hauling her body in front of mine.
"Thank you, Marco."
He turns away, and I force Ivy forward, her knees nearly buckling as she stumbles to put one foot in front of the other.
"What are you doing?" she croaks.
"You want to burn down the memory of my family?" I ask. “It isn’t enough that you’ve already destroyed them?”
“Me?” She tries to turn her head to look at me, and I tighten my grip on her, enforcing her stillness.
"You’re a Moreno, aren’t you?” I sneer. “You’ve just proven it. You may as well have spit on their graves.”
"That wasn't what I was doing," she whispers.
"Lies," I sneer. "That's all that ever pours from your lips. Fucking lies."
When she tries to protest, I squeeze my free hand over her jaw, pinching it shut. "As far as I'm concerned, you don't have a voice anymore."
She shudders against me, tears splashing against my fingers as I march her into the house. When the door slams behind us, I pause in the foyer, squeezing my fingers between the seams of her shirt and tearing them apart. She fights me at every turn as I repeat the process on her leggings, shredding them with my bare hands while she kicks and slaps at me, screaming out a rage she wishes was equal to mine. Her lace underwear and bra are the last to go, and I discard them in a pile onto the floor and force her onto her knees.
"Crawl,” I command, tangling my fist in her hair.
She grunts out in frustration as I move forward, leaving her no choice but to crawl along beside me, all the way up the stairs, bruising her knees as she howls like a wounded animal.
"I'm not doing this anymore!" she yells, coming to a dead stop at the top of the landing. "You can't make me do this."
"No?" I release her hair and cock my head to the side, studying her. "You think I can't make you do whatever I want?"
She tries to scramble to her feet, and I force her down against the marble, mounting her body and pressing her face against the cold floor. She arches up like a cat, only to grunt in pain when I exert all of my weight against her.
"Tell me again what you won't do," I whisper in her ear.
"I hate you!" she sobs.
"So you've told me about a dozen times." I glower at her. "Do you think I care? Do you think it makes one goddamned difference to me what a Moreno thinks? Your insults are pathetic and weak, just like your bloodline.”
For a split second, she tries to look at me, and I refuse to let her. Dragging myself up, I seize her by the ankle and tug her along, her naked body sliding over the marble floor as she claws at it desperately, scrambling for purchase. That fight lasts all of a minute before she's twisting and flipping onto her back, her legs splaying apart in the chaos, baring her pussy as she tries to use her other heel as a brake. When my eyes move between her legs, she flails, trying to squeeze them together as if that act could save her from her indecency.
All of her fighting is for naught, and when we reach my room, she is breathless, too spent from the struggle over something so simplistic she has little energy left for what comes next. Her body bounces against the mattress when I yank her up and toss her onto it. Using the lengths of rope from when I tied her to my bedposts to tattoo her face, I push her face down and tie her hands behind her back and stretch her legs wide, securing the ropes to each ankle and forcing her onto her knees to keep her in that position.
"Santiago," she chokes out. "Just let me go. Just send me away. Please. I can't bear this hatred from you anymore."
"You will bear it." I lean down to look into her face,