by Leah Holt
I wasn't going to leave the front room, I wasn't going to walk away from the safety of an exit and follow some asshole I didn't know.
Was I nervous? Yes.
Did I want to see the man I gave my heart to? Yes.
But I wasn't fucking stupid.
I wasn't going to head back into the unknown, where the monster I despised was tucked away somewhere inside.
Remo was a man of tricks, he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted. But I had studied him for a long time, long enough to know his games.
The bald man turned on his heels and nabbed my arm. “You're coming—” I started to pull away, leaning back, and reaching for the knife.
“Del, don't be rude to our guest.” His voice tore at my ears like hundreds of razor blades. Stepping out from around the corner, Remo licked his thin lips as his eyes stabbed my chest.
Disgust crawled over my body, sending chills up my spine. I didn't want to see him again, I didn't want to hear him again. But here I was.
His feet clicked against the concrete, fingers twirling tight circles around each other. “It's been too long, Celia, far too long. I hope you got this out of your system.”
My eyes burned. I wanted to yank the knife out and throw it at him. I was too far away, it wouldn't do any good. I had to get closer. “My name is Ivy.” Snapping my wrist free, I stepped away from Del. “Where's Dante?”
His smile spread into a devious arch, turning my stomach. “We'll get to that, don't worry, Love.” Nodding to Del for him to leave, Remo started to walk towards me. “For now, why don't we talk about this whole little stunt you pulled.”
Stunt!?
How dare he try and make this out like it was just me going against the grain. He said it as if I was child who ran away because I wanted to fight authority. I hadn't done anything wrong, nothing. He was just trying to use his mind games to fuck with me.
Remo wanted to beat me down mentally, he wanted to try and get control over the only place he never could.
I wasn't cracking. His hand was never enough, his punishments were never enough. . .
And they never would be.
Why can't he just realize I won't give him what he wants?
Why won't he just let me go?
As he came closer, I had to stop myself from stepping back. I didn't want him to think there was any fear in my heart. If he saw me breaking, if he thought he had caught a whiff of reverence, he'd think he'd won.
But this wasn't over, I wasn't going to run back to him and beg for forgiveness. I just needed him to get close enough for me take back what he had stolen from me.
Life.
There wasn't any doubt in my mind about killing him. Remo deserved it, he wasn't a good man, there wasn't a bone in his body that hadn't been touched by the devil.
He deserved a death sentence.
“We can talk after I see Dante.” I had to know he was okay, that Remo hadn't done something horrible to the father of my unborn child.
The only fear I had was for Dante. I wasn't afraid of Remo or his fucking men, I wasn't afraid to wield a knife and slit his throat clear through.
But I was afraid for the man I loved.
I was afraid that he wasn't breathing anymore, that life no longer flowed through his veins.
I had to know.
My fingers hovered gingerly over my stomach, almost touching it with a motherly nature. I held back, catching myself before I gave away my secret.
If Remo found out I was pregnant. . . I'd never make it out of this room alive.
Remo rolled his eyes, letting out a low grunt. “You're really concerned about that prick, huh?” Taking another long step, he was standing only feet away. His stale cologne circled my senses, making me gag. “Ivy, he doesn't matter, he never mattered. All that matters is that I have you back, that I have what's mine.”
“I'm not yours, Remo, I never was.”
His fingers tapped his jaw, playing soundless notes against his skin. “Ivy, do you want to know why your father let me purchase you?”
My heart jumped, stomach clenching. Yes, of course I do.
But would he give me the truth?
Or would he just feed me lines to try and push my hatred for him onto my father?
I couldn't believe a fucking word that came out of Remo's mouth. He was a liar, he was a crook. . .
He was a soldier to the mafia, and the power it brought him only fed his hunger.
I'd get the answers I needed, but I planned on getting them from my father. Remo's version didn't matter, it held no weight. He'd lie through his teeth to make it seem like he had done this to save me himself.
He didn't do shit except feed his selfishness.
“I want to see Dante.”
Frustration coated his face, his hands angrily tugging at the trim of his suit. “What has he done to you? Everything was going so good until Dante came into the picture. What can he give you that I can't?”
Everything.
“Remo, I want to see Dante.” Taking a step forward, I held my hand behind my back, stiffly grabbing the end of the blade. “I don't want a fucking thing from you, I just want him.”
His eyes went static, boring into me as he stroked his chest. “Did he touch you?” Cocking his head, he looked over my body. “Did he make you empty promises he obviously couldn't keep? Tell me, Celia, did he sweet talk you into thinking he could actually take you away from me?”
Dipping my head, my brows furrowed into my nose. “I told you we could talk, but not until I know he's alive. Take me to Dante.”
Sighing heavy, Remo rolled his eyes and smiled. “Why don't you just admit that all of this ended the way it should have? You're with me, you will always be with me, until I decide you're no longer worthy to breathe. Once you realize that your life is what I say it is, things will be so much better for you.”
“Fuck you!” Hot air steamed the space around me, his face turning wicked with my reaction.
“Now, now, let's not let our emotions get in the way. Dante was a valiant member to his family, but you had to know it would end sometime. He wouldn't be able to run this show forever.” Remo's hands danced across his chest, fluttering in the air. “And that's exactly what I'll tell the police when I tip them off about Bane's death.”
My mouth frowned, brows digging into my nose. “They won't believe you, you won't be able to pin that on him.” All the nerves had melted, anger replacing the electric spark in my heart.
“They'll believe me. They believed me when I went to them with information on Sesto, they listened when I gave them places and dates to catch all those assholes.” Taking a step in, Remo drew a long finger down the outside of my arm. “Just admit it to yourself, it's over, you can't escape me.”
“I want to see Dante! Now!”
Remo's head joggled on his shoulders, his pupils lit in black fire. “Fine, if it will shut you up, follow me.” Turning around, he started down a long hall. “I don't understand why you want to see him so badly, it's not like he can save you now.”
My fingers tensed around the knife, ready to strike. I could have done it right then, I could have stabbed him in the back. He was so conceded, so full of himself and what he thought he deserved.
But I didn't.
There was no satisfaction in taking a man out when he wasn't looking. The number of times Remo forced me to look into his eyes while he delved out my punishments. . . I wanted to return the favor.
And maybe my sick inner self wanted to see the look on his face when I did it. I wanted him to see it was me, I wanted him to know that after everything he had done, he still wasn't going to have me.
But I didn't move, my feet stayed planted to the floor. I didn't trust him. Why would I?
Snapping his head over his shoulder, he nodded for me to follow, spinning his hand in the air. “Let's go. You want to see him, so I'm agreeing to take you.” Remo's feet started to move again as he said, “Don't say I never gave you anything.”
> Swallowing hard, I glanced around the open and empty space. Del had disappeared into the building, his chair by the door now empty.
The freedom of having an exit close by slowly faded away as we pushed further down the dim hall. The lights glowed so faintly, barely bright enough to cast shadows on the walls. I'd have to keep track of where we went, which way and how far. I didn't want to get lost in here, especially if I had to make a run for it.
The tap of his feet pounded against my skull, each one more intense than the last. I kept counting the doors we passed and how many steps I took. I felt grateful for having spent so many hours of my lifetime counting.
Numbers stamped my brain and I could see them just as clear as any memory. My panic attacks actually gave me a tool to use. I never thought I'd thank my body's reaction to lose control.
But it had paid off in the end.
Was it fate?
Had every lost breath, every painful pinch and gasp for air led me to this moment? Could it be possible that all the small things I'd been through and suffered through had actually been preparing me for right then?
Maybe life does have a path we can't control.
Maybe all of this was meant to be.
“You know, Ivy, once this is all said and done, you're still mine. And I hope you realize that after all this shit, the whole waiting to take your virginity, well, that part's null and void. I don't care anymore, I'm not waiting.”
“You're a little late, Remo.” I couldn't stop myself from saying it. The words just spewed out like an overflowing faucet.
Shit.
Remo stopped short, his head frozen on the ground, back twitching as his hands floated motionless in the air. “What did you just say?”
Damn my big mouth!
I wanted to wait till I knew where Dante was. I wasn't going to say anything until I knew for sure. There was still this digging itch to let him know that I wasn't the white rabbit he chased anymore.
I had forbidden him to have what he ultimately paid for, my virginity. And I couldn't stop the small light from flickering deep inside my brain that he would lose interest in the chase if he knew.
Or he would kill me? One click of the trigger, and I'd be gone.
His head ticked up, turning with short snaps to look at me. “Did you really just say what I think you said?”
Quickly, I yanked the knife out from behind my back, holding it out with two hands. “Take me to him! Now!” The knife vibrated, bouncing quickly in the air as my arms shook. I wanted to just jump forward, cut him, slice him. . . But I needed Dante.
Smirking, Remo held his hands up. “Of course, don't do anything stupid, he's this way.” His voice scared me. It was thick and dark, layered in destruction. “Right in here.”
There was a door to our right, bolted and locked from the outside. The knife felt like it weighed a ton in my hands. My lungs strained to take in the musty oxygen that floated between us, trembling, my heart thudded in my ears.
“Open it,” I demanded, pointing the knife up at his face.
“As you wish.”
This doesn't feel right.
None of this feels right.
Remo's mood was too calm, it was too even and flat. I didn't like it. He wasn't a man to trust, and this, this wasn't the time for me to start.
My gut was screeching for me to bolt, to finally listen to its voice and just take off running at full speed. But I couldn't.
I heard Dante's screams, I heard the beating. I had to know if he was dead or alive.
Remo's hands moved over the locks, clicking and sliding them free. Opening the door, he pulled it into the hall and stepped back. “Here, go on, look for yourself.”
The knife was still in my hand, firmly resting level with his chin. Leaning over, I hesitated, closing my eyes briefly. As they peeled back open, my jaw dropped, eyes bugging out. I went numb, every nerve in my body exploded.
“Is that what you wanted to see, Love?”
I wasn't ready.
I could never have been ready.
And my gut was right again.
Seventeen
Dante
I was fucking cold, to the point my teeth had started to chatter. I could hear it inside my head, the repeated clicking of bone against bone.
My arms burned from being trapped behind my back, my muscles seizing up from the blood being drawn away. I didn't have a fucking clue why I was here. I was no use to these assholes, it didn't matter what they wanted to hear; my lips were sealed.
Fuck!
I need to get out of here, I need to get back to Ivy .
I hated the idea of leaving her alone. There was too much shit going down around us for me to be fucking careless.
I wasn't careless.
I was protective.
Her safety and well being was all I could think about. I wasn't looking out for myself, I didn't pay any attention to what was going on around me. I had wandered the aisles completely unaware of the men waiting outside the door.
And now, I was trapped.
A tingling feeling was crawling slowly up my bicep, growing like a vine on a branch the longer I sat. Tiny thorns scratched their way across my skin, weaving in and out of the muscle with jagged sharpness.
Wiggling my fingers, I tried to keep them from falling asleep. It wasn't working, I couldn't feel my arms anymore from the elbow down.
Why do they have to do this?
Why now?
There was no way I was going to tell them shit, but they sure as fuck were trying like hell to wear me down.
I knew the ins and outs of what they were doing. I played the same mind tricks on the guys we needed to get information out of.
The room wasn't cold because of some heating issue, it was a subtle way to break you before they stormed in asking questions you didn't want to answer. We did it too, it helped to weaken the thick walls, a mind game created to muddy up their brain just enough to get them to crack and fuck up.
Okay, we were definitely much more cruel in our methods, but in the end it was all the same. Tied up, alone in a dark, cold room, left to stew about what was coming next.
It was simple, but effective.
Hanging my head, I pressed my face into the table, groaning under my breath. Let's go! Come on!
The doorknob jiggled, lock popping open. It's about fucking time.
Sitting up, I slouched into the chair, eyeing the door through slit lids. These assholes were lucky they had caught me off guard. But that didn't stop me from being pissed and frustrated that they were keeping me from my woman, from my pregnant woman.
Two men entered, their chests puffed up, shoulders pulled back. I recognized one of them, but I didn't say a word, I didn't plan on talking.
That's not how I was raised. They could torture me, burn my eyelids off with a soldering iron, pour gasoline down my throat, anything they wanted to do.
And I'd still stay mute, handing them a big 'fuck you' smile as they tried to shatter me.
“Dante Pisani, remember me?” The detective smiled like he had just won a fucking award. I wanted to rise up on my feet and clap, giving him a standing ovation for his fucking civil duty.
“Congrats, you got me.” Smirking, I bit down on my bottom lip, winking.
“Don't be a smart ass, you know why you're here.”
“No, actually I don't, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.”
“We have reason to believe that you might be able to give us some information about your father's death.” Throwing down a thick green folder, Detective Jones pressed his palms into the table top. His fingertips bent in, knuckles popping up.
I found myself drawn to how much hair was protruding off his skin like bark peeling off an old tree. Sitting there, I stared at his creepy fingers, trying to count each and every follicle.
I don't have time for this. . .
Or them.
“Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”
The detective's jaw crooked
out as his forehead exploded in rippled waves. “Do you think this is funny?”
“Oh come on now, don't be rude, Jones. That was a simple question, no need to suck your balls up your ass.”
I was a smart ass and I was glad he could see it. The sooner these pricks recognized I wasn't going to hand them what they wanted, the sooner they could let me go.
I needed the detectives to realize that trying to get anything from me was like trying to draw blood from a stone. I was dried out, crusted through to the core. They weren't getting shit.
The detective's tongue glided with frustration over his lip, his eyes rolling in the sockets as he changed his tune. “Dante, this is Detective Carol, he's been working with me on your father's case.”
Holding out his hand, the other man nodded as if this was some fancy introduction. Shaking my elbows, I twisted my arms out from behind my back. “I'd shake your hand, but. . .” Shrugging, I jerked my head over my shoulder. “I seem to be a little tied up right now.”
Detective Jones grunted, tugging a key from his pocket then stepping behind me. “Dante, we don't have to do it this way. We're not the bad guys here, we're trying to find out who killed your father, I'd like to think you want the same.” His fingers worked over the cuffs, eyes meeting mine.
There was a message postulating deep inside as his pupils retracted and brows lifted high. He was requesting me to submit, to breach the loyalty I swore to my family, and give him something to work with.
I shook my hands out as the metal broke free, the pins and needles prickled my skin in discomfort. “Isn't that the burning question detectives? Who killed my old man?”
Slipping into the chairs in front of me, both men eyed each other like I wouldn't understand what their soundless expressions were saying. But I knew, I knew exactly what they wanted from me.
They wanted a name, an answer to a question they couldn't figure out on their own.
And they were right, I did know.
But I wasn't going to tell them that. Fucking pricks.
I didn't have time for them and their fucking cop drama. This wasn't going to be some long, drawn out trial where I'd take the stand and point a finger at Remo from high in the booth.