by Rose Harper
It feels wrong—cowardly. Like we’re running away with our tail tucked between our legs.
He’s never supposed to put himself in that type of situation. He’s the leader of our goddamn familia! If anything, we foot soldiers are the ones who need to be risking our lives. We’re replaceable; he’s not.
My teeth grind as I continue to blaze past cars, trucks, and SUVs—all the while, Domino is screaming in the back seat and fighting against my brothers trying to hold him still.
He didn’t see the imperceptible nod Mateo gave me. The way his eyes cut through me like a knife before they dropped to the bottom of the car. No one did. That’s when I knew nothing was as it’s supposed to be. That we were tagged by that bastard back there. It’s also how I knew that whoever came for him didn’t want him dead but for us to leave so they could take him. Because if they wanted him dead, they would’ve ended him before he ever stepped away from the SUV.
Whoever is playing this out knows exactly how to pluck his strings to get what they want.
But what they don’t know is this: I’m the wrong man to play games with. I’ve been on a leash with Mateo, but now that he’s gone—it’s free reign. And they are going to pray the devil takes them when I get through with them.
“Goddammit!” I shout, allowing the rage to consume me.
“Gavino!” Dom shouts, struggling against Giovanni and Luca’s hold. “We have to go back for him! He’s our boss; he’s family!”
“You think I don’t know that?!” I ask, cutting my eyes toward him. “It’s the only thing running through my mind right now, Dom! But we’re fucking tagged. He needed us to get out of there because we are no good to him dead.”
“Tagged?” Lucio queries, sitting forward. “What do you mean?” Of course, someone like him wouldn’t understand. None of them would. They’re not like me. This is the only life they have. Most of the threats they go against are face-to-face, not hidden in the shadows waiting to take you out.
Shaking my head, I face forward once more, spotting a run-down gas station up ahead. “Mateo knew that contact somehow slipped something under our car. Which means, they had to have access to our goddamn vehicles. And so help me God if there’s nothing under there, and he’s overreacting, I’ll kill him myself when we get him back.”
I refuse to acknowledge a different outcome. Mateo has to come back to us. And in one piece. He has an obligation to this family; to the people living in his home. I couldn’t give two fucks about Pop—that bastard’s day is swiftly coming to a head. He’s already hurt this family so much, I refuse to allow it to happen anymore.
It also doesn’t go unnoticed that this happens after we find out Pop supposedly hired Carina’s father to kill our mother. That’s too much of a coincidence. And I’m not one for those slimy bastards.
There is no such thing as a coincidence. Shit happens for a goddamn reason, and I plan to figure out what it is.
Names and faces start blurring together in my mind as I continue to weave through the evening traffic. Something isn’t adding up. No matter how hard I look at it, there’s something there I’m missing. It was too easy to get Mateo—as if it were planned from the beginning. It’s clear there’s a mole within our midst. But, who?
I know it can’t be any of us, and to be quite honest, Carina would kill anyone who made themselves a threat against Mateo. That only leaves those two dipshits who were brought in on security. And Pop. The only dilemma I’m having is if either, both, or all are guilty in this current situation. If it turns out they are … Oh, hell will seem like a vacation when I’m through with them.
“Did anyone see or hear who this contact was?” I seethe, narrowing my eyes.
“No. All I know is Liam said a contact came through and Anjelo told us to go meet him. It’s not how we usually do shit, but with all things considered, we went with it.” Giovanni snaps forward, wide eyes on mine. “You think it was an inside job?”
“Oh, I know it was.” I punch the steering wheel again, feeling the harsh, unforgiving material give under my hand. “I bet they had this planned from the beginning. I just don’t know who. If it’s Anjelo, that was a reckless move. He may be an asshole, but he’s smart. He wouldn’t put himself in the position for this to fall on him, even if he did do this.”
Recklessly pulling into the gas station, I barely put the SUV in park before I’m out, rounding the vehicle. Dropping to my stomach, my eyes instantly search the undercarriage as I hear the other doors opening and shutting. The longer I search, the more nothing I find. There’re no blinking lights—no indicator there’s anything of dire circumstance under here.
Then … my eyes land on it. It’s almost imperceptible to the naked eye. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed it completely. Sliding up under the vehicle, the gravel grates against the front of my shirt. The jagged stones poke and prod as if voicing their protest against me bearing my weight on them. The closer I get, the faster my heart thuds in my chest. The smell of exhaust tinges my senses, causing my eyes to burn from the fumes. Fuck.
My eyes trek over the entirety of the device, carefully moving wires here and there to find the one that needs to be clipped. With my knife at the ready, a storm begins rolling in over my emotions. My mood shifts, growing darker, more thunderous. There’s no way this can come off the vehicle without detonating.
A newbie would make the mistake of thinking they could remove it without it going off, and I bet that’s what they were counting on. Only, they don’t know me at all. They don’t know the reason I disappear for months at a time. Completely ghosting my familia until it’s safe for me to return.
The hell I put myself through so my family can stay one of the leading familia’s in the underground and in the good graces of the papa.
Shimmying out from under the SUV, I come to my full height, disgust and anger morphing my scarred features. The sun beats down on my body, causing perspiration to wet the back of my shirt. Unseasonably warm air swirls around me while I think of what I need to do. Everything is going so fast, and it’s been a while since I’ve had to think on my feet. I’m rusty, which means people will die if I don’t get my shit together.
Peering around us, I begin looking for alternate modes of transportation. There’s no way we’re getting back into that thing. It was enough of a risk just getting us this far. It’s a wonder it hasn’t gone off before now. If it had been someone with more experience, it would have detonated within seconds of Mateo stepping away from the vehicle.
It’s either that, or we were never their intended targets. It was Mateo this entire time, and they used the love he has for his familia against him.
Son of a bitch! I cinch my eyes tight. It’s the new player—the one who took over Carina’s contract.
“We have to get him back,” I say, turning toward the men scattered around the SUV. “There is no way we can fail at this, or everything will crumble around us.”
As I stand here seething, I make a promise I’ve spent years running away from. A promise I swore I’d never make again as long as I drew air into my lungs.
Even if I have to contact that son of a bitch myself. I promise I will bring Mateo home.
3
MATEO
Fire enters my veins before I can react to any feelings blazing through me. The anger at being deceived clouding my thoughts, not allowing me to see the needle Camille had to inject me. The puncture mark feels like a thousand knives entering my skin, releasing poison to stain my already tainted body. But as I feel a relaxing haze wash over me, I almost plead for it to be poison instead.
That bitch.
“You in the business of drugging people now?” My words begin slurring, but I can no longer hold my tongue like I did in the past. “Who knew the absence of my cock could push you this far.”
“Shut up!” Fire burns in her eyes as she glares over at me. “I’m not drugging you to fuck you, asshole. There’s no way I’d touch you again.”
“Then wha
t are you trying to prove?” I spout off, acting as if I couldn’t care less.
We’re caught at an impasse, her thinly veiled crystal blues staring into my lazy, give-no-fuck browns. If she expects me to act scared, she has another thing coming. There’s only one thing I’m truly scared of, and it’s never going to be a little bleach blonde who likes to play as if she's tougher than shit. That's for the birds, and it's never going to happen.
"It's not time," she says cryptically. "Besides, I want to see the great Mateo Calvetti beg me for a change."
If that's her main purpose of all this, she's going to be waiting a long damn time. I don't beg any-goddamn-body, least of all a pathetic excuse of a woman like her.
Reclining back into the seat, I can't fight the overwhelming need to shut my eyes. They're heavy—so heavy—and it feels like there’s sand stuck between the eyes and lids. It grates against the sensitive surface, causing a groan to rumble in my chest. My entire body relaxes, and I know I should be fighting this, but for the life of me, I can't. It's too much effort. More effort than what I want to exert at the moment.
Staying in relative silence, I feel the car rumble underneath me, which lulls me into the state just before unconsciousness. My breathing deepens—heart rate drops. I can feel the blood slowing its furious path through my veins.
Any moment, I'm going to lose consciousness. But it's not going to happen before I get one last jab in. One thought that's been circling inside my head for months, while I was ignoring the woman who deserved my attention.
"You never were good enough for me. You were just the eager slit I used to pass the time while I waited for my woman," I voice, feeling the darkness overtake me.
My head lulls to the side, feeling like two tons of bricks fell on top of it. Everything is fuzzy, distorting my surroundings.
As my eyes open, I cringe in pain as I slowly blink, the effort almost too much. The only thing I want to do is close my eyes again, allowing the darkness to sink its claws into me, never letting me go. But there's something that nags at the back of my muddled mind; there's something I know I should be doing.
Cool air that smells of mold, death, and unkempt surroundings assaults my hazy senses. The feeling of grating rope binding my wrists is the next thing that comes into focus, as well as the cold, metallic seat I'm apparently tied to. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. I can't quite comprehend how I got here—or why I'm even here, for that matter.
Something has happened, that I can tell. But, what? What could possibly warrant me being tied to a goddamn chair?
As my vision comes into focus, a heat I've never felt before overtakes me. My eyes narrow, and my heart picks up its pace. I'm in a basement.
"How lovely it is for you to join me."
Her voice. Just the sound of it grates on my last nerve. It resonates like a nail dragging down a chalkboard. Unsettling.
My gaze trails over the wall to my right—the sight causing my heart to speed up its rhythm inside my chest. Except it’s not from fear that has my pulse skyrocketing. It’s from excitement. I can feel the blood rushing through every part of my body, the sound like a drum repeatedly banging in my ears. If she thinks this is going to scare me, she has another thing coming. I live and breathe this shit.
She has an entire wall of torture devices, ranging from knives and saws to even your basic hammer. They’re on tiny carpenter nails that jut out from a messy looking pegboard; the sides of it are crumbling down from the years of use. They’re all hanging in an assortment from smallest to largest—less lethal to most. It’s a delightful sight, and what makes it even more delicious is the fact every piece looks like it has been used a lot, as they’ve all lost their shine.
It’s then my sight drops to the floor, the strain of my movement causing an ache to bloom in the back of my neck. There, in all its rusty, dried glory, I see congealed, brownish smears staining it in sporadic places, shortly before it congregates around a drain tube in the middle of the room.
Blood. Everywhere I look, those smears hold residence to everything my eyes fall upon. The bench holding the saws, the plastic lying adjacent to the wall of torture.
Everything.
There’s no guessing about it. I know exactly what she uses this room for, and any normal person wouldn’t feel the tiny flutter in their heart like I do. But I can’t help it; it makes me a bit excited to see all of this.
This is what a killer calls his “workspace.” This is where Camille gets the job done if she’s close and looking to divvy out some pain instead of instant death. I thought I was crazy before meeting her, but I can clearly see she’s nowhere close to my level, even with all these instruments of torture.
She should learn her place in this world, and it’s not attempting to capture, torture, and kill one of the most notorious torturers of our time.
She clearly has no idea what she’s gotten herself into, and it’s going to be delicious tasting the fear that permeates off her when she realizes she fucked up.
“Are you ready to play?” Oh, you little whore—you have no idea.
4
CARINA
Jake’s putrid breath heats the side of my neck as his hands force my arms above my head. The distinct sound of a belt unbuckling has my hackles rising as I thrash around on the bed they carelessly threw me across.
My entire body is lit up from the inside out with so much rage I can barely contain it all. It feels like it’s slowly seeping out of my pores, directing its ire at the two men who think they can do this and get away with it.
But what they don’t know is that I’ll get my revenge on them. If they succeed in taking away what’s been forced from me repeatedly before, I’ll make them die a horrible, bloody death.
The feeling of clammy hands on my knees has me snapping my legs together, locking them at the ankle. The action forces my body to stretch out, stomach concaving with the motion. My chest heaves as I drag in each painful breath.
“Hurry it up, Liam,” Jakes goads, laughter spilling from his demonic lips.
“Give me a minute,” he spits back. “I have to get it up first. This bitch ain’t quite what I’m attracted to.”
I don’t know why, but laughter bubbles in my chest. Whether it be my mind finally slipping away from me, or my give-a-damn bursting—I don’t know. But, it’s inherently hysterical that Mr. Big Bad can’t even get it up. After all the trouble of catching me off guard, his dick is as flaccid as a cooked noodle.
Releasing a cackle, I force my eyes to meet the menacing ones staring down at me. “You’re blaming me? The girl you’re about to rape? That’s fucking pathetic.”
Pain explodes on the side of my cheek as my head whips to the side, the sting of his hand smarting against the side of my face. Lights explode behind my closed eyes, little designs dancing across the back of the lids. But it doesn’t stop me. The more pissed off I make them, the longer I’ll have to find my way out of this situation.
“What? Punishing me because you have a limp dick?” I ask through more laughter. “Priceless.”
“Shut up, bitch!” Jake yells, tightening his grip on my hands.
Wetness coats the side of my lips. Rubbing them together, the thickness smears the sensitive flesh of my lips. Darting my tongue out, the coppery taste of blood assaults my taste buds. That is their second infraction against me—and I won’t tolerate it.
Yes, they may be having their way with me right now, but it’s not going to last. I’m going to make them pay for everything they’re doing to me, and they better be ready. Because the moment I find my opening, I’m going to take it.
“You have jokes?”
“Oh, I have plenty of them,” I deadpan.
Fire burns in my veins, causing heat to overcome me. I see nothing but red as the sound of his pants hitting the floor has me retching inwardly. The feeling of him untethering my legs and crawling between them nearly has me in hysteria. Only, I refuse to show them anything other than the hilarity I find at Liam not being able
to get hard.
If they go through with this, I’m going to rip them apart. I’m going to feast on their flesh as if it’s my last meal before death.
“This is your last chance,” I say to no one in particular. “Because the second you push inside me, it will be the last time you feel anything.”
“Says the frightened little girl nearly in tears,” Jake taunts. I think I’ll kill him first.
I feel the head of Liam’s cock brush against the inside of my thigh. His taunting laughter reaches my ears, forcing me further into the frenzy that unfolds inside me. His hands grapple at my hips with bruising force, causing my breath to explode from my lungs. It’s always been on the bittersweet side of painful with Mateo, but this time, it’s different. They’re trying to hurt me; they want to get off on my pain before they kill me.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
When his cock presses against my entrance, a cry of anger leaves my swollen lips. With each inch he presses inside me, a part of me slowly dies, rebuilding into something else—something darker. I swore to myself this would never happen again. That the last time Rossi did this to me would be the last time anyone did it.
Fighting against Jake’s hold, I numb out the feeling of his partner thrusting in and out of me. His groans and moans fall on deaf ears as I wiggle against his partner’s hold. The energy I didn’t have before shoots through me, making me stronger and faster than when they apprehended me in the bathroom.
“I’ll kill you!” I scream, managing to get one of my hands free.
A haze of fury engulfs me as I grab at the seat of Jake’s pants, getting a handful of his dick and balls, twisting hard. His pained cry is the only thing that reaches my ears before the feeling of him letting me go registers. Grabbing me by the throat, Liam is too lost in his passion for realizing what’s just happened, and that’s his first mistake.