Page 24 of Control (Dark Syndicate #1)

Remo

The moment the box lands on my desk, it doesn’t feel right. There’s a chill that hits me before I even open it, like the kind of cold you feel when someone steps too close to you, and you can’t quite shake them.

I don’t move at first, my fingers just lingering over the edges. I know what’s inside, what they want me to see. It’s never a good sign when they send me something wrapped up like this, and sure as hell, it’s not a gift.

I rip it open. The smell hits me first. A damp, rotting scent I can’t ignore even for a second.

It’s the kind of smell that makes a stomach turn.

Inside, there’s a mess of black roses, withered and brown, and dead spiders curled into tight, lifeless balls.

I blink, but the image doesn’t go away. It burns into my mind, and something inside me cracks.

I can feel the pressure building up in my chest, but I don’t let it show. Not yet. Not here.

I know who it’s from, though. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

It’s Vizzini’s. He’s sending a message, and I know damn well what it means. They’re making a move.

Things are about to get worse, and I’m already one step behind.

My hand tightens around the box, but I don’t crush it. I don’t need to break it. It’s already broken enough.

My office is dark—dark leather chairs, cigar smoke clinging to the air, and the scent of old whiskey bottles sitting on the shelf like trophies of a past life I’m still trying to outrun. I throw the box into the trash can, but the image of the dead spiders stays with me.

I should’ve seen this coming. He knows I have grown soft. And he thinks he can rattle me with a box of dead bugs and wilted flowers.

I feel the shift in the air when she enters my office.

She’s always there now, a constant presence, like an itch I can’t scratch. Every time I try to focus on something else, there she is, in the back of my mind, reminding me that I can’t keep her safe.

There’s a bright look in her eyes, the one that’s so damn na?ve. Like she hasn’t seen the world for what it really is.

“Remo?” Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, her eyes narrowing as she catches the look on my face. She knows something’s wrong, and damn it, I can’t hide it.

“Don’t ask,” I say. I don’t want to talk about it. Not with her. Not now.

“What happened?” she pushes. She’s persistent. Too persistent.

I grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar and pour myself a glass. The burn doesn’t help, but I drink anyway.

****

Daniela

One hour earlier

I wake up to the smell of burnt coffee in the kitchen.

I don’t need to check to know Remo’s the one who made it. He’s always been a disaster in the mornings, just like he’s a disaster at pretty much everything else in his life.

I look for him in the kitchen, but he isn’t there, so I go to his office.

The box is sitting in the trash can when I get there, withered roses on top of dead spiders.

What the hell?

I look at him. His eyes are colder than usual, and he glances at the box like he already knows what it is. He’s been on edge all week, the tension in his shoulders making him seem like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Who’s sending these?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Don’t ask.”

I’m not sure why I even try to hold it together anymore.

Maybe it’s the last shred of dignity I’ve got left, or maybe it’s just because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely lose it.

But I can feel the rage building inside me, the heat starting to rise in my chest. I know he’s not going to give me an answer, but I ask anyway.

“What happened?” I push.

“I said don’t ask. It’s none of your business anyway.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” I say bitterly. “You made this my business the minute you took me from my apartment against my will. You made it my business when I almost died the other day and when I lost Betty B in a stupid shootout that I still don’t know the genesis of today.

You also made it my business when you stuck your dick down my throat and when you fucked me and told me I belonged to you.

So you don’t just get to shut me out now without at least giving some sort of explanation for receiving such an ominous package. ”

He shoots me a glare that feels like a physical blow. The weight of it is enough to make me step back. My heart skips a beat, but I’m not going to show him that. I won’t.

“I can control this. And I will.”

I roll my eyes. He’s so damn certain and so convinced that he can bend everyone and everything to his will. But he’s wrong. He’s not invincible. None of us are. I don’t care how many roses he burns or how many bodies he buries. He’s still just a man. A broken one at that.

I can see his frustration bubbling over, anger so deep that it’s starting to leak into everything. The longer I stay here, the more I see it. His control is slipping, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. And I…I’m starting to wonder how much longer I can stay in his world without breaking myself.

I glance down at the roses again, my stomach twisting. The realization hits me harder than anything. It’s one thing to be pulled into something you can’t control, but to stay here, knowing what it’s costing me…well, that’s the real trap.

When I turn to leave, he catches my arm.

“This isn’t the fantasy relationship you wish it to be, Daniela. Your only concern is that I keep you safe and—”

“Safe,” I repeat, the word sounding like a joke in my mouth. “You call this safe? You lock me up in this cage and call it safe? You’re full of shit, Remo.”

“Say that sentence again one more time,” he spits warningly, the words hitting me like stones.

I feel a knot tighten in my stomach, but I refuse to back down. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Remo. You’re not my fucking keeper. I’m not your prisoner, and I’m done with all this.”

That’s when he snaps. His face twists in a way I’ve never seen before, a mix of anger and desperation and something darker than the usual cold rage.

“You want to fight me?” he growls. “You think you can do whatever you want because I lick your pussy, huh?”

Before I can react, he grabs my wrist, yanking me toward him. I struggle, trying to break free, but his grip is too strong. I feel a surge of panic, my heart hammering in my chest as he picks me up easily and stomps to the bedroom.

My mind races, thoughts flying in every direction as I try to find a way out of this.

“Stop!” I shout, but my voice comes out shaky. “Remo, don’t—”

“Shut up,” he barks, his hands firm as he ties my hands to the bed rails. The roughness of the rope bites into my skin, and my heart sinks, a cold chill running through me.

I thrash, panic rising in my throat, my breath coming in short gasps. “You can’t do this! Remo, please—”

“You think I won’t?” he sneers, his eyes dark and filled with a kind of anger I’ve never seen before. “You think I won’t do whatever it takes to protect you, to keep you safe? Why can’t you just trust me, Daniela?”

I try to break free again as my mind screams at me to escape, but he’s too strong. A knife flashes in front of my face, the blade gleaming in the dim light. I freeze. The reality of the situation slams into me like a truck.

“You’re never leaving me,” he says, his voice quiet now. “And if you keep pushing me, I’ll do what needs to be done. What I should have done from the beginning. Don’t fucking make me go there.”

My body trembles, not just from fear but from the weight of what’s happening. I’ve seen Remo angry before, but this…this is something else. I can see the madness in his eyes, the edge of desperation he’s always tried to hide behind his control.

I know he means it.

Then, he leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him. And I’m left there, tied up, with my heart racing and every inch of my body screaming to escape.

I hear the sound of his voice outside the door—the harsh, clipped words telling someone to bring me food. Then I hear the footsteps fading, though his presence lingers even after he’s gone.

I hate this. I hate him. And yet, there’s a part of me that knows this is just the beginning. Just another step in the twisted dance we’re both caught in.

****

Remo

I watch her struggle, her eyes wide with anger, confusion, and fear.

It’s the only thing that still gets to her, the one thing I can use to remind her of the boundaries, the things she doesn’t get to cross.

I’m not afraid to use the knife. And I’m not afraid to cause damage. If I have to, I’ll make her understand that this isn’t a game.

I won’t be the one who gets hurt in this. If anyone has to break, it’s her. She may think I’m bluffing, but deep down, she knows damn well I’m not.

I just want to shut her up and stop her from making this harder than it has to be.

She kept fighting me, kicking and screaming. She doesn’t get it. She never has. She thinks she has control over this, over me. But she doesn’t. Not anymore. I’m not the one who’s weak here.

I’m back in the room after five hours.

I stand there, watching her for a moment and letting the tension settle in the room. It feels like too much. I shouldn’t have done it. But I did.

And now she has to deal with the consequences.

She is calm now. It means she gets it.

She pauses when she spots me, her body going rigid as she stares at the steel in my hands, at the promise of pain if she pushes me too far.

I untie her hands, ignoring her silent glare as I leave the room.

I don’t need to check on her again tonight.

She won’t be going anywhere.

I don’t trust myself to be alone with her right now, not after what just happened. Not after I had to remind her who was in charge.

I send one of my guys in with food and water for the night, knowing she’ll eat out of sheer necessity. She’ll stay quiet, but I know better than to think she’s forgotten what happened. She won’t forget. But I’ll be damned if I let her believe she’s running anything here.

Back in my office, I pull up the cameras on my phone and watch her from a distance. I watch the dark outline of her sitting on the bed, staring at nothing. She’s pissed. She’s hurt. And I know she’s trying to figure out if she wants to hate me or need me.

Maybe it’s both. Maybe that’s what makes it so fucking complicated.

I don’t blink as I watch her, my eyes glued to the screen.

There’s nothing more I can do right now.

She’s not going to break easily. But I’ll make sure she knows how much worse it can get if she doesn’t start playing by the rules.