Page 50 of Until You Break

“Yes, capo?”

“Try standing still for ten seconds.”

“Impossible.” He winked at Emilio. “Hello, brother-in-law. You look pale. Drink?”

“I’m fine.” Emilio’s voice was tight.

“You’re not.” My thigh pressed harder into his. “You’re obedient.”

He shot me a look that would have burned any other man alive.

I smiled. “Later you can show me how much you hated this. On your knees.”

“Fuck you.” No heat.

“You will. Ride me when I tell you. Arch for me when I take it. Don’t pretend you won’t.”

He swallowed and kept staring at the ring like it would pull him out of his body if he blinked.

Wolf slammed Fox’s head again. The mask split. The chin underneath looked young. The mouth bled. Fox tried to crawl. Wolf put a boot on his hands and pressed.

“No ref?” Emilio’s voice broke, faint.

“Not tonight.”

He flinched. Small. There and gone.

“Don’t. If you flinch, they’ll see it.”

The glass smeared with blood; he flinched again, then forced himself still under my voice. He stayed not because he wanted to, but because he knew I’d make him regret moving.

“Hold your face still.” My whisper was low, calm, merciless. “If you break, I’ll break you worse when we’re home.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do. And you care that I care.”

Silence. Then, barely, “Yes.”

“Good.” Soft, satisfied. “Now watch the part where hope ends.”

Wolf yanked Fox’s head back by the mask strap and snapped his throat open on the glass edge. It wasn’t clean. It was loud. It was final.

The crowd screamed. Bills waved. Hands slammed the rail. The frenzy hit like a storm.

Alessandro closed the ledger. “Winner is Wolf. Payouts at the bar.”

Emilio’s knuckles went white around the cash. His pulse hammered so loud he felt it in his teeth. His body screamed to run, but he couldn’t move.

I kissed his jaw like a sin. “That’s what happens when you can’t pay what you owe.” Satisfaction curled in my chest at how well he held, terrified, furious, but still obeying.

He didn’t speak.

I didn’t let him.

“Third card.” Alessandro’s pen tapped. “One fight. One finish. Masks on.”

The trapdoor opened again. One fighter. Then another. The first wore a mirrored skull that threw the disco light back at itself. The second wore nothing but a gold mesh over his face and a line of neon at his throat, thin as a promise.