Page 16

E xhaustion and the bone-deep weariness of not having eaten in…far too many fucking days makes my limbs heavy, and an ache pounds throughout my head. Add in the throbbing pain from my finger, and my tolerance for the bullshit our lovely captor has put us through has dissipated.

“I hope they’ve killed each other,” I say in Italian. “Because that’s the only reason those fuckers are allowed to have for not finding us yet.”

With no more news on if Carter survived the hell at De Luca’s house, I’m left with only my thoughts and overactive imagination.

The logical part of me understands that he is far tougher than most give him credit for, simply because he likes to hide in the background.

Though, the emotional part of me is worried sick at the thought of him not being okay.

Carter and Roman…they are my lights in this dark and bloodstained life.

Should anything happen to them without me there…

Hell on Earth would be an understatement.

“Who would be left standing?” Allesandro asks in the same language. “Aside from Emilio, that is.”

“Leandro.”

He raises a brow at that. “Not Tennant? We’ve all heard stories about the ‘pet psychopath’ you keep.”

I grin and shake my head, ignoring the throbbing in my temples. “Tennant, as much as he acts like it, is not infallible. If I had to bet who would still be standing after my Family tore themselves apart, it’d be the one they least expect.”

Leandro’s disability may give him a disadvantage in many aspects of our world, but it is those disadvantages that will make people underestimate him.

He’s spent enough time around Roman to be able to mimic innocence at the drop of a hat, and that will be everyone’s downfall. He’s a viper in lamb’s clothing.

Before we can continue with our conversation, the door to our cell opens and our host walks in. Unlike all of the other times, he’s not wearing some smug look of satisfaction. Instead, there’s rage in his otherwise dull brown eyes.

He goes straight for Allesandro, pulling him up by his tattered clothes and shoving him against the wall. “I should kill you and leave your body scattered about for your precious Family to find,” he snarls.

Allesandro gives his best impassive expression as he stares at him. “What have they done now?” he asks calmly, like his life isn’t currently hanging in the balance.

“They think they can mess with the police? That kidnapping important members of the force, and burning people’s houses down, will get them to back off? No, they just signed their fucking death warrants.”

“How do you know it wasn’t my Family?” I ask…in Spanish.

The asshole whirls on me. “Do you think this is a joke?” He steps away from Allesandro, and my friend gives me a nod in thanks. Not that he needed my help, but with only the two of us here, we have to take care of one another.

“Honestly?” I answer in English. “Yes. You sure as hell haven’t been entertaining, so I have to amuse myself. At least play some music.”

He yanks me up, much like he did Allesandro.

He holds a knife to my throat, which is a bit of an escalation.

Aside from taking our fingers, beating and starving us, and holding the occasional gun to our heads, there hasn’t been much of a threat from him or his men.

It's more the mere annoyance that they’ve managed to hold us for this long.

“I can slit your throat right here and now, and dump your body where they will never find it.”

“Do it,” I taunt him, switching to French this time. It’s one of my least used languages, so stretching that muscle feels good. “Kill me, or are you a fucking coward?”

The knife digs into my throat, and the sting tells me he probably drew blood. “You think you’re clever?”

“Cristian’s right,” Allesandro says. “As…lovely as these accommodations are, it’s quite boring. Though, it appears my Chaos has been having fun, if what you’ve said is even true.”

When the asshole whirls around again, he scratches his knife against my skin. It's not deep enough to kill me, but when I raise my hand to my throat, my fingers come away with blood smeared on them.

“There will be consequences for this!” the asshole hisses.

He gestures with his knife. “You’ve been held above the law for too long!

Soon, your reign will end, and we will finally be able to live in peace, rather than fearing for our lives every time we do something as simple as take our children to school. ”

I narrow my eyes at his back, wondering if he realizes how much he’s given us with this impassioned rant of his. Did he learn all his moves from watching bad action films? The monologuing never ends well for the bad guy.

“Funny,” I say. “I don’t remember ever recruiting from schools, or allowing my men to deal near them. I might be into…less than lawful things, but I have morals. If I won’t allow my son to do it, why would I let anyone else’s kid? We lead by example around here.”

Allesandro laughs, and the asshole turns back to me.

“I’m sick of your fucking mouth,” he growls.

I smirk at him. “Sorry, I’m married, and you’re not my type.” I look him up and down, taking in his messy appearance. I tsk. “At least have enough self-respect to get a well-tailored suit.”

He steps closer, pressing the knife against my side this time. “Say one more thing. I fucking dare you.”

Meeting his wide brown eyes, I sag against the wall, relaxing my body and making him think I’m giving in. As soon as the knife isn’t pressed so firmly against me, I say, in French once more, “One more thing.”

The piercing pain from being stabbed is fucking worth it.

I just hope his knife was clean…