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Alonzo laughs, but there’s nothing funny about it. “You don’t get to speak to the Boss,” he sneers. “And if you’re thirsty, drink out of the toilet, bitch!”

My stomach drops. His hand is already on the door handle, but before he leaves, he gives me one last icy look, his eyes practically stabbing through me. “It’d be wise to stay quiet and act like you don’t exist. Don’t cause any more shit.”

The door slams, and I hear the faint click of the lock.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. What a jerk. I try to get up, but as soon as I put weight on my leg, pain shoots through my thigh where he kicked me. I gingerly pull my pants down to look, and yep, there’s a massive red mark already turning into a bruise.

I need a shower. I’m still in the makeshift outfit from the plane, and I feel grimy like I’ve been rolled in someone else’s dirt. These pants, Nicole’s pants, need to come off before I catch something from her. But I have to deal with it because it’s not like I have anything to change into.

So many questions are racing through my mind, but I force myself to take a few deep breaths.

Calm down, Liv, just breathe.

I slide back onto the bed and wait for what feels like forever, staring at nothing because there’s literally nothing here. No TV, no phone, just me and these ugly, sterile walls. I’m about to start counting ceiling tiles when I hear the door unlocking. My heart skips, and I go to stand, but my thigh protests, still aching from Alonzo’s boot. So, I sit back down, trying not to wince.

When Alonzo walks back through the door, my stomach drops. He’s carrying a brown paper bag, the kind you’d pack a school lunch in, and that smug grin of his gives me the creeps.

“Because of you, I’m the fucking errand boy,” he snaps, holding the bag in both hands like he’s about to crush it, and he does. He crumples it up with a sneer, smashing the contents inside. “Hope you’re hungry,” he mocks before tossing the squashed bag on the floor and storming out like he’s proud of his little power trip.

I sit there for a second, staring at the mess on the floor.

Seriously?

I hobble over, my thigh throbbing with each step, and crouch down to inspect the damage. It’s worse than I thought. Inside, there’s what used to be a sandwich, now half-drowned in juice that’s soaked through the bread. The grapes? Smashed into the sandwich. The whole thing is a soggy, unappetizing mess.

What an absolute ass.

Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them, and I try to blink them away, but it’s no use. Everything’s catching up to me. The stress, the fear, the uncertainty. This is my karma, isn’t it? For what I did to Cindy, everything I’ve done to get this far.

I toss the food in the bin beside the dresser and crawl back onto the bed, hugging my knees to my chest, and let the tears come. I cry for what feels like hours, untilthere’s nothing left but exhaustion. Eventually, I drift off, curled up in this cold, lonely room.

14

Alessio

The casino is alive as always. Flashing lights, the jingle of slot machines, the occasional drunken cheer from a lucky bastard who thinks he just won big. A guy stumbles past me, mumbling about his luck, but I don’t even glance at him. My focus is locked on the basement.

Olivia’s still out cold, which, for now, is a blessing. At least I don’t have to babysit her while I deal with the real shit. Alonzo and Nathan are under strict orders to get her back to the mansion, lock her in her room, and don’t let anyone near her until I return.

Kota already spoke to Paola, making sure a room was ready for Olivia. I don’t give a shit what room it is, as long as she’s out of my way until I figure out what to do with her.

For now, I push that headache away and focus on the one waiting for me atDemoni’s. I haven’t been there in days, thanks to dealing with my feisty stalker and Seb’sdisaster. But now, I’m back. And right now, there’s a mess in the basement that needs cleaning—Chris.

Chris has been playing dumb for days, repeating the same useless excuses.I was following orders. I was just told to bring the girl. It wasn’t until a few minutes ago, before I arrived, that he was taken off the Judas Cradle and restrained to a metal chair. I need him in a better position for what I have planned.

Lexi’s face flashes in my mind, my little sister who’s only fifteen. The thought of some filthy asshole trying to traffic a girl her age through my casino makes my blood boil.

The guards step aside without saying a word as I approach the basement cells. I stop in front of the steel door and push it open. The stench of sweat, piss, and fear makes my nose burn. Chris jerks his head up the second I step inside. He looks like shit. His left eye is swollen shut, and his split lip is crusted with dried blood. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath, but when he sees me, it gets worse.

I take my time walking toward him. “You’re going to talk. Tell me every last detail. Or I’ll make you regret keeping your mouth shut.”

He swallows hard, eyes darting from me to the tools lining the table. He knows what they’re for.

“I-I swear, I don’t know anything else! I was just following orders, bring the girl, that’s it!” he stammers, his voice cracking.

Lies.

I stay quiet, letting him stew in his fear. Then, I reach for the branding iron. The torch ignites with a sharp hiss, and the flame dances along the metal tip, turning it molten orange. The glow reflects in his wide, horrified eyes, and sweat beads along his hairline.