Page 23 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

JUST BLEEDS

A lessandro

“Thanks for coming, Matty,” I whisper, careful to keep my voice low and not wake Rory as I usher my cousin in.

She never came out of her room last night, not even to check my bandages or force me into the tub.

A part of me was scared she’d jumped out the window, despite knowing very well that would be impossible from the eightieth floor of my penthouse.

I may have even spent a tiny portion of the night standing with my ear pressed against her door like a coglione listening to the sounds of her soft breaths as she slept.

But I would never admit that out loud.

“I’m always at your service, Ale.” A devious grin tugs at his lips as he eyes the empty foyer. “Much like a certain naughty nurse you have hidden up here.”

“Stop it with that,” I growl, pressing a finger to my lips. “She’s still sleeping, and I don’t want her to know I’m looking into this guy.”

Matteo nods and follows me into my office on the opposite side of the penthouse. Once the door is closed behind us, he drops into the leather club chair, folding his long legs.

“So, what did you find?” I blurt when he remains irritatingly silent as if he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort.

He finally pulls his phone from the inside of his jacket and flashes me the screen. “Is this the guy?”

I snatch it from his hand and scrutinize the blonde male in the still frame. He’s wearing the same jacket, has that disheveled light hair and most importantly, I can just make out the scar across his eyebrow.

My mind flashes back to the look of sheer panic on Rory’s face when he barreled into her. My gut twists, then anger rushes through every bone in my body. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“I figured.” He takes his phone back and swipes through some documents. “I’ll email you everything I found on the guy, but he’s got a rap sheet longer than my list of exes—armed robbery, grand theft auto, assault, rape…” His words fall away or maybe it’s me who’s stopped listening.

Because I don’t need to hear another word.

I already know.

I can’t even explain it but after only a little over a week with my little leprechaun, I’ve learned to read her exceptionally well. She’s not scared of anything. And that man frightened the hell out of her. More than that, he had her cowering in what felt like shame.

And now I know why.

“I need to find out how he knows Rory.”

“Already done, cuz.” He flashes me a cocky smile, and I’m too furious to give him shit about it.

“And?”

“They both spent time at a halfway house in the Lower East Side about eleven months ago. It’s the only link between them.”

Merda . I’m right. A tiny part of me was holding out to hope that I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I’ve heard about awful things that happen at those places. That fury pounds through my body, my hands itching to punch or tear something apart.

“Do you have his current address?”

His eyes narrow on me, the arrogant smile slipping away. “What are you going to do if I give it to you, Ale?”

“None of your damned business,” I grit out.

His dark brows furrow and he rises, meeting me eye to eye.

Though he’s my younger cousin, he nearly reached my height way back in high school, and now I only have about an inch on him.

I used to have at least ten pounds of muscle on him too, but I’ve grown weak after the months in that hospital bed.

“What exactly do you think he did to Rory?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“No, I’m not dragging you into this.” I shake my head, adamantly.

“If you think something will happen that you need to protect me from, then that’s exactly why I should go with you.”

My molars grind together, the anger building by the moment. When I find that guy, I’ll tear him apart. No… first, I need to get him to talk. By any means necessary.

And if this gets messy, I don’t want my younger cousin involved. Someone has to keep his hands clean in the Rossi family. Out of all of us, Matteo has the best chance.

“I need you to stay here with Rory.”

He shakes his head before signaling down the hall toward the entrance. “I’m sure Johnny can make sure she’s safe in your apartment for a few hours.”

“You’re not coming and that’s final.” I spin around, the quick movement tugging at the compression bandages across my chest. Dio , I’d been so preoccupied with the asshole who hurt Rory, I hadn’t even thought about my own pain in hours.

By the time I reach the hall, Matteo is beside me. I might be steadier on my feet and walking much better, but I’m still slow as fuck. “Just try and stop me.” His anxious gaze razes over me from the bandage that peeks out beneath my shirt to my lumbering gait.

He doesn’t think I can handle this guy on my own. He thinks I’m too weak, too broken.

Matty shoots me a heavy dose of side-eye before he stops in the middle of the hall, smacking his palm against the good side of my chest. “Don’t even go there, asshole.

I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes, in that stupid pout forming across your lips.

I’m not insisting on going with you because I think you can’t deal with this guy.

I’m going with you because you’re my cousin, and I’ll always have your back.

Especially when it has something to do with the first person whose brought life back into your eyes, not to mention the first woman I’ve seen you give a shit about in years. ”

A rueful smile threatens to smother the scowl, and I can see it mirrored across my cousin’s face. Maybe I have gotten a little overly sensitive, and not every kind gesture from my family is done out of pity.

“Fine,” I grumble. “But we handle this my way, and we go now.”

“Lead the way, cuz.” Matteo drops into a ridiculous bow.

I stalk past him and move as quickly as my wobbly legs will allow toward the door. When we reach Johnny, I pause to whisper, “We’ll be gone for a few hours. When Rory wakes up tell her I had to go to Gemini Tower, and I’ll be back soon. Under no circumstances let her out of the penthouse.”

“Got it, boss.”

With Rory’s safety secured, I focus on the building storm of fury writhing in my chest. And I can’t wait to find the bastardo to take it out on.

The stench of mildew and stale whiskey clings to the walls of the Velvet Vault’s basement like rot.

It’s cold down here. There’s no insulation, no light except for the single bulb swinging from the ceiling like a noose.

Matteo stands against the wall, his expression hard for the man known for his wicked grins.

But he’s not the one I’m here for today.

I stare at the man duct-taped to the metal chair in front of me.

Chip Armstrong. Blonde, broad-shouldered, dressed like some washed-up used car salesman. But I know better.

I know exactly what he is.

And now I’m going to get him to admit it.

The zip ties bite into his wrists, turning the skin raw.

His ankles are bound to the chair legs, and his mouth is gagged.

But that won’t last long. I need to hear him talk.

I need to hear him say it. It was just the easiest way for us to drag him out of the shithole apartment he lived in without him screaming.

“Do you know who I am?” I ask, voice calm, low. Controlled.

His gray eyes flick up to mine, unblinking. Defiant. Good. That’ll make what comes next more satisfying.

I circle him like a predator, every step echoing off the stone floor. For the first time in months, I feel something real humming beneath my skin. Power. Control. The raw kind that used to come naturally to me. The kind that was burned out of me in Milano. But not anymore.

“She’s been thriving by the way,” I murmur.

“You didn’t break her. Shit, you just made her stronger.

She probably hasn’t thought twice about you this year, not until we were so damned unlucky to bump into you yesterday.

But trauma’s funny like that. It has a way of burying the worst memories.

Then something small—a voice, a smell, a face—can dig it all back up. ”

I stop behind him. My fingers brush over the jagged scar on my neck. His kind of depravity leaves marks, too.

“I saw her face, Chip. When she ran into you. She turned to ice. And the shaking… fuck .” My voice cracks. I close my eyes for half a second and clench my fists. “I’ve been through hell. But I’ve never seen anyone look that wrecked. You did that to her, didn’t you?”

He lets out a muffled grunt through the gag.

I rip it off.

“Say it,” I demand. “Tell me what you did to her.”

He coughs. “Like I said before, I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about.”

Wrong answer.

My fist connects with his jaw so hard the chair rocks back. Blood spits from his mouth, splattering across the concrete. He groans, blinking dazedly, but I don’t give him a second to recover.

I grab his collar and yank his face inches from mine. “Did you drug her? So you could crawl into her bed like the goddamn coward you are. You thought she was just another scared little girl you could silence, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t—” he wheezes. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You did something ,” I snarl. “You left her with nightmares. You made her feel small . You stole something from her.”

And then it snaps. Not the chair. Not his bones. My control.

The rage that’s been festering in my chest for months, the pain, the helplessness, the humiliation, it all boils over.

I punch him again. And again. My knuckles split.

I don’t feel it. I only see her . Rory curled in the corner of the car, pale and shaking.

My warrior girl reduced to a ghost by this bastard.

“Alessandro!”

I’m barely aware of Matteo. First his voice, then his body as he attempts to haul me off the fucker. But I’m lost to the fury, more beast than man.

“You thought you could hurt her and just walk away?” I whisper hoarsely, driving my fist into his gut. “I’m going to destroy you.”

He gasps for air, his head lolling forward, blood dripping from his nose onto the floor in slow, red droplets.

And still… no confession.

I lean in, pressing my lips to his ear. “I can make you disappear, Chip. No cops. No trial. Just gone. This club has secrets buried deeper than your conscience.”

He moans, pathetic now. The fight’s bleeding out of him with the rest of his pride.

I grab his face and force him to look at me. Then I run my finger across the scar on his brow. It looks new, and I wonder if Rory is the one who gifted it to him. “Say her name.”

“I—I don’t know,” he chokes. “Please, man?—”

I slam him back against the chair. “ Say it! ”

Silence. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t beg.

Just bleeds.

I stare at him, chest heaving, sweat clinging to my back. There’s a sick satisfaction curling low in my gut, and I don’t like what it says about me. But I do like that he’s afraid. That I’m the one holding the power now. That for once, I get to be the one who leaves the scars.

Because no one touches what’s mine and walks away alive.

Never again.