Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

by Cora Reilly

  “You don’t know what’s going on. Maybe he only enjoys her skills.”

  Savio scoffed. “She’s not bad but there are better whores out there.”

  “It’s not like he has many to compare her to,” I said, growing tired of the discussion.

  “One of these days he’s going to bring her over here and keep her,” Savio said.

  The perspective switched to another drone camera, and my brows drew together. It briefly showed a few burning cars, some of them black limousines. The others were race cars. Then it changed back to the police chase.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  The front door swung open with a bang, steps thundered toward us. Nino put an arm over Kiara and pulled his gun. I rose with my own gun raised. Fabiano stormed into the living room, panting. “The Outfit attacked our territory!”

  I froze. Savio jerked to his feet.

  “What?” I growled. If Dante had set a single foot on Vegas ground, I’d walk into Chicago tomorrow. Then another thought struck me. “The race.”

  Fabiano nodded. “The organizer from the Kansas race called a few minutes ago. There was an attack on the race. I think he called me because he thought it would stop you from killing him.”

  Tough luck. I’d deal with him once I was done with the Outfit. “How long ago did they attack?”

  “About an hour ago. There’s chaos over there. But the race is going on with the remaining cars.”

  “Why didn’t they alert us sooner?”

  “They didn’t know what was going on at first. When they realized it was the Outfit, they tried to divert the other race cars first so they could keep the race going.”

  Kiara stirred. “What’s wrong?”

  I pulled my knife, shaking, furious that Dante had attacked again. Nino stood, pulling Kiara to her feet. “Go to our bedroom.”

  She looked at me, eyes widening, then nodded quickly and hurried away.

  My phone rang. I picked it up and brought it to my ear. “Remo,” said a man. The voice was distantly familiar, but I couldn’t place it. The background noise suggested he was in a helicopter or small airplane. “This is Danilo Mancini. I’m calling to tell you we have your brother and we’re going to enjoy his screams like you enjoyed Serafina’s. Tell Nino to set up a Darknet connection for later so you can watch as we tear him apart. I will enjoy slicing him into tiny pieces.” He hung up.

  It took my brain a few moments to process the information. “Call the Sugar Trap and ask if Adamo’s there,” I ordered.

  Fabiano frowned but did as he was told. “Is Adamo there?” he asked without a greeting. “Then ask her.”

  “Remo, what’s going on?” Nino asked carefully.

  My phone beeped with an incoming message with detailed instructions for the connection.

  I held it out to Nino, who took it from me, frowning. His mouth tightened when he read what the message said.

  “He’s not there. Apparently he left last night. C.J. said he asked her to pretend she was with him because he wanted to join the race.”

  I nodded, trying to ignore the way my chest kept constricting.

  Savio didn’t say anything, only stared at me. Fabiano had fixed himself a drink and downed it in one gulp.

  Eventually Nino looked up from the phone. “We won’t be quick enough to save him.”

  “There won’t be anything left of him to save when they’re done with him,” I got out, fury and a weaker emotion burning through my veins. Why couldn’t the kid have listened for once? Fuck it.

  “Call Grigory. Tell him he can have Kansas if he attacks the Outfit.”

  Nino nodded, and pressed the phone back to his ear as he walked back and forth in the room.

  Savio ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. We have to do something.”

  From the words I caught, Grigory had no intention of getting involved. I flung my knife at the heavy bag. “Fuck!” I snarled before Nino had uttered a single word.

  “He says this isn’t his fight.”

  “Bastard,” Fabiano muttered.

  “I will soon make it his fucking fight. For this, I will declare war on him and the fucking Bratva in Outfit territory.”

  “Do you want me to set up the connection?” Nino asked quietly.

  “Of course,” I growled. “If Adamo has to suffer, we will watch. We will suffer with him. Fuck it all!”

  Nino didn’t move for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.

  “We need to figure out where they are taking him,” I told Fabiano. He knew the Outfit better than any of us.

  “I assume honor dictates that they take him to Minneapolis because that’s where her family lives. She wasn’t married to Danilo yet or they would have taken Adamo to his city to dish out punishment there,” he said.

  It would take us at least three hours to reach Minneapolis and probably several more hours to figure out where they kept Adamo. The Darknet connection would begin in fifty minutes. I took my phone again and dialed Dante’s number. He rejected the call.

  “Fuck him,” I rasped. “Call our pilot. The plane better be ready in twenty minutes or I’ll kill him.”

  Nino made the call and we set out toward the airport. Fabiano stayed with Kiara, whom he was taking to a safe house with Leona. I’d alerted every fucking soldier in Las Vegas to be vigilant.

  The plane was ready on time, and we started almost immediately. I tried to call Dante again, but he didn’t pick up.

  “It’s his game this time,” Nino murmured after a while.

  Savio had his face buried in his hands.

  “It is,” I agreed. “And he’ll win.”

  Nino raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ll allow him to put me checkmate.”

  “Remo,” he began, but I smiled grimly and indicated the laptop. “It’s time to turn this on.”

  I pressed the blade against my palm when Adamo appeared on the screen. He was slumped forward on a chair.

  When they started cutting him, Adamo’s scream filled the airplane, blaring from the speakers mercilessly, and fuck, they were the first screams in forever that got under my skin. The first since her screams. I cut into my palm, deep, drawing blood. Savio gripped the armrest of the seat, his arms shaking. Nino was behind me, one hand digging into my shoulder.

  Danilo was next and took out a lighter. I jumped to my feet, shaking with rage ... so much rage, it threatened to rip me apart. Adamo’s eyes widened. Fuck, he was a kid. He wasn’t like us. This was supposed to be me. I was supposed to burn for them.

  Danilo touched the flame to Adamo’s skin, and his screams got louder. I reached for my phone again, knowing that Dante would reject my call like before and hating this fucking sense of helplessness. I was supposed to burn for them, for him, and I would.

  “Enough!” a female voice rang out, and my eyes snapped back to the screen as Serafina threw herself in front of my brother, protecting him. I froze, unable to trust my eyes, to believe that the woman who haunted my nights was really in front of me.

  Nino and Savio stared at me, as if they waited for me to lose my shit completely.

  “Fuck,” Savio murmured, shaking his head.

  She hadn’t returned to me like I’d thought she would.

  She hated me more than I’d expected, and yet she protected Adamo. Because he wasn’t the one she wanted to see suffer. She wanted to see me bleed. She would get her wish.

  “Remo?” Nino said in a cautious voice.

  I raised the phone to my ear, waiting for the inevitable, but this time it didn’t come. He finally answered my call. “Dante, I’ll give you what you really want. Tomorrow morning I’ll be in Minneapolis and exchange myself for Adamo.” He didn’t need to know we were already on our way, but maybe he did.

  “Remo,” he said coolly. His eyes focused on the camera for a moment before the screen turned black and Serafina and my brother disappeared from view.

  “It’s me you want to see burn, not my brother, and you will get your chance.”
<
br />   “Tomorrow morning, at eight. If you’re late, your brother won’t be recognizable as your brother anymore, understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll have someone send you the details, Remo. I’m looking forward to meeting you again,” he said coldly.

  I hung up.

  “They will kill you, Remo,” Savio said.

  “They will cut me, skin me, burn me, cut off my dick, and then maybe they’ll kill me,” I said quietly. And all I could wonder was if Serafina would watch them do it.

  CHAPTER 26

  SERAFINA

  They allowed me to stay with Adamo, and I crouched at his feet, feeling sick to my stomach from what I’d witnessed and even worse thinking about what was to come.

  “Remo will exchange himself for you,” I whispered. “Tomorrow, you will be back in Vegas, and Nino will treat your wounds.”

  Adamo tilted his head, dark eyes bleak. “Remo is Capo. He won’t die because I’ve been stupid enough to get myself captured. I’ve been a disappointment to him since I was born. He will use this chance and kill Dante instead of handing himself over.”

  I lifted soaked fabric from his burn, and he groaned deeply. His wrist and nose were broken and his shoulder dislocated. He must have been in horrible pain, and there was nothing I could do to help him. Playing the guilt card forced my family give me this small freedom. It didn’t convince them to call a doctor though. They would have probably kept torturing Adamo if I hadn’t refused to move away from his side.

  “You’re wrong, Adamo. Remo will protect you. He doesn’t fear death or pain. He will take your place because you are his brother and he cares for you. He’d do anything for you.”

  Adamo let out a choked laugh. “Why do you speak about him as if you don’t hate him? He kidnapped you. He ruined your life.”

  I looked away. I wouldn’t tell him about Nevio and Greta and certainly not about my twisted feelings for his brother either.

  Adamo leaned forward, wincing, and brought our faces closer together, a risk because we were undoubtedly being watched, and my family was still eager to spill Falcone blood. His or Remo’s, it didn’t matter, as long as it was a Falcone. I met Adamo’s gaze, and realization settled on his face.

  “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely. He leaned even closer, despite the rope binding his unharmed arm to the chair. “You’re giving me the same look Remo has whenever someone mentions you.”

  My chest constricted. “I need to go now.” I stood and took a step back. Adamo Falcone. Falcone, the name my children were supposed to carry.

  “Goodbye,” I whispered, but deep down I wondered if this was really the last time I would see him.

  I turned quickly and left the room. Samuel waited right in front of the door. He regarded me, incomprehension in his features. “Why do you take care of a fucking Falcone bastard?”

  “He never hurt me. He’s a boy.”

  Samuel shook his head. “He is a Made Man, Fina. You should let us handle him and Remo. We are capable of doing what needs to be done.”

  We walked into the main hall where Dad, Danilo, and Dante were talking in hushed tones. They turned to us the moment we entered.

  I faced Samuel. “And what is that?”

  “Bring Remo to his knees. Make him beg for mercy. Beg for death. I will cut his dick off myself. Danilo will take care of his balls, and then we will keep them in a nice bag with ice so he can see them while we tear him apart. Then we’ll shove them down his throat.”

  Danilo smiled grimly, and even Dad looked like he could imagine nothing better than committing the most brutal murder he could think of.

  I swallowed. “He is the father of my children.”

  Samuel grabbed my shoulders hard, desperately. “He broke you, Fina,” he said softly. None of them had ever asked if I considered myself broken. They had declared me as such, and all four of them made me feel like I was.

  “He is a monster,” Samuel added.

  “He is not the only one,” I whispered, my eyes wandering over the gathered men.

  Samuel dropped his hands, face twisting as if I’d stabbed him. “I’m doing this for you. To avenge you.”

  “Did any of you ever ask what I wanted? If I wanted more blood spilled? If I wanted to be avenged?” I shouted.

  Dante came forward, expression tight. “Don’t you want to see Remo Falcone on his knees? Don’t you want to see him broken?”

  I did, but not in the same way they wanted. “I want nothing more,” I said quietly, because they could never, would never understand.

  Samuel wrapped an arm around me and kissed my temple. “Fina, let’s go home.”

  “Yes, let’s go home,” I said quietly. I peered up at Samuel, realizing that for the first time in my life, we didn’t mean the same place.

  REMO

  Nino, Savio, and I linked arms, pressing over the tattoo of the other. “You will be a better Capo than me, Nino. You won’t kill people who might be useful to us. Your logic will make the Camorra even stronger.”

  Nino didn’t say anything, only stared at me.

  Savio shook his head. “Remo, let’s attack them. I’d rather die fighting than have you in their fucking hands.”

  I smiled darkly. “You will have to die another day. I will pay for my sins.”

  Nino made a low sound. “She didn’t return, Remo. She stayed in Minneapolis. They won’t let you anywhere near her. You will die for nothing.”

  “No, I will die so she gets what she wants.”

  Nino pulled away. “Damn it. Be reasonable for once.”

  “I made my decision and you will accept it.”

  Cars pulled up, and I moved away from my brothers who took shelter inside the car. Nino and Savio raised their guns through the open windows. I wasn’t armed as I walked toward the parked cars, my arms raised over my head. I didn’t think Dante would attack Nino or Savio. Once he’d dismembered me in the cruelest way possible, he’d send my brothers the recording and probably to Luca as well. He’d try to break my family like I had broken his, killing us all just wouldn’t do. Not yet.

  Dante got out, followed by Samuel, Pietro, and Danilo, and more men I didn’t know and didn’t give a fuck about. Samuel walked around to the back of the car and pulled Adamo out.

  Adamo could hardly stand as Samuel dragged him behind himself toward me. Rage boiled under my skin. Samuel shoved Adamo to the ground in front of my feet, and Adamo looked up at me with his blood covered face, cradling his broken and burned arm against his chest.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t do this. Don’t let them kill you because of me. I’m a fucking failure.”

  I moved toward him and touched his head briefly. “You are the one from all of us who deserves death the least, Adamo.” I removed my hand from his head, but before I could move on, he grasped my forearm, his fingers curling over my Camorra tattoo. “It’s us against the world,” he croaked.

  “Us against the world,” I said.

  Samuel gripped my arm, and I shoved down the instinct to smash his face. I saw his fist coming toward my face and smiled. The first punch only blurred my vision. His kick to my balls brought me to my knees. And his gun to the back of my head finally pulled me into blackness.

  SERAFINA

  Samuel and Danilo dragged Remo into the safe house, his arms and legs bound, his nose busted and dripping blood, his hair sticking to the back of his head with more blood. I slowly rose from the sofa where I had been waiting for almost one hour with two bodyguards.

  Dad moved toward me, trying to shield Remo from my view—or me from his. I wasn’t sure and didn’t care. “Dove, you shouldn’t be here.” His eyes narrowed on my bodyguards, harshly, cruelly. I touched his arm.

  “I will stay,” I said firmly, my voice resolute.

  Dante was the last to enter.

  The men exchanged a look. Their word was law, not mine, but their guilt gave me power over them, more power than they’d ever held over me. I hated using it aga
inst them, but they would never allow me to possess power for any other reason.

  I walked past my father, toward Danilo and Samuel holding Remo between them. His head hung down, body was slack. I tried to hide the tremor that had taken hold of me the moment I’d spotted him.

  Remo Falcone.

  Danilo’s expression twisted like it always did when he saw me. With guilt and a flicker of humiliation because something had been taken from him, because Remo had taken it from him. He was a strong, powerful man, and having lost me haunted him like it haunted every man in the room. I was their failure. Their pride a tattered sullied rag. Every time they had to peer into my eyes, and worse the eyes of my children, they were reminded.

  They’d never let me be anything but the dove with broken wings. They couldn’t. But I wanted to fly.

  “Have you come to watch the bastard die, Fina?” Samuel asked, his face cruel, eager, brutal as his blue eyes settled on Remo, who still hadn’t moved, but I noticed the almost imperceptible shift in his shoulders, his muscles twitching. He was waking up.

  My heart beat faster, my palms becoming sweaty.

  “I know you deserve your revenge, dove, but this is going to be more than you can stomach, trust me,” Dad said, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder. His voice was soft, compelling, but his face held terrifying eagerness and cruelty as he regarded the father of my children.

  “What are your plans for him?” I asked my uncle, because he was the man who would have the last word on the matter.

  His cool blue eyes weren’t as controlled as usual. He, too, wanted to tear into Remo. They had waited a long time for this moment. “We will prolong his torture as long as possible without risking an attack from the Camorra.”

  “He won’t die today?”

  “Oh, he won’t die today,” Samuel muttered. “But he might wish for it.”

  I gave a nod. It was what I had expected. Remo wouldn’t experience any mercy at the hands of the Outfit, not that he’d ever ask for it.

  “He’ll beg for death,” Dad said harshly.

  “I don’t beg for anything, Pietro.”

  I shivered at the familiar timbre, at the underlying threat, the undercurrent of power. How did he do it?