Inferno [Part 4]

by T. K. Leigh

  “I’m so sorry, Dante. I should just tell them, then—”

  With his own wrists also freed from their restraints, he grabbed my hand in his, kissing the inside of my wrist. “You can’t,” he whispered. “Lilly needs justice for what happened to her. So do the hundreds of other people who lost their lives because of that woman.” He fought to open his eyelids, wincing through the pain as he raised his hand to wipe away the tears staining my cheeks.

  “But I can’t let you die,” I choked out.

  He brushed my hair behind my ear and I melted into his touch, his hands cold. “I’m dead no matter how we look at this.”

  Tears obscured my vision, blurring everything, my heart squeezing at the knowledge that he was right. My chest constricted, every breath painful.

  “I don’t know if I can say goodbye to you again.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said in a lazy voice. “Do you think I’ll ever leave you?” His mouth curved into a smile.

  Despite the bruises and cuts marring his face, the sight of his smile warmed my heart. For a brief instant, I saw Dante…my Dante. The cocky man who attempted to flirt with me across the aisle on a plane. The confident man who knew how to make my body sing with the most subtle of touches. The loving man who made me feel more alive than I ever had.

  “Impossible, Eleanor. I’ll always be with you, even when my heart stops beating.”

  I shook my head, my world spinning, my soul disintegrating as I stared at Dante’s badly beaten body, knowing the end was near…our end was near.

  “Lay down with me,” he pleaded. “I want to feel you in my arms.”

  “I don’t want to cause you any more pain,” I insisted.

  “You won’t.” He reached for me, groaning, his face contorting. Not wanting him to suffer any more than he already had, I lay down beside him, allowing him to drape an arm over me. I rested my head close to his lips, and he placed a soft kiss on my forehead. My body quaked with sobs, the thought of this being one of our last moments together gutting me.

  “I’m sorry we don’t have forever,” I squeaked out.

  “Yes, we do.” He tilted my chin up, our eyes locking. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.” He rested his hand over my heart.

  “And I’ll always be here,” I repeated, placing my hand against his chest, his blood staining my flesh.

  “Sempre e per sempre,” he reminded me.

  “Sempre e per sempre.”

  “No matter what.”

  I fought against a new wave of tears. “No matter what.”

  I remained completely still as I listened to the gentle drumming of his heart. I’d never been more grateful to hear that beautiful sound. I wanted every second to stretch, to slow down. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen next, when that door would open again and the inhumanity resume. I tried not to worry about that, focusing instead on the only thing that mattered. This moment. The feeling of Dante’s arms wrapped around me. The sound of his heartbeat. The warmth of his breath. I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but instead of pressing about how Bradley could have duped us all or how long he’d kept the truth of who my mother was from me, I remained quiet, not wanting our last moments together to be tainted with something that no longer mattered.

  “Do you think there really is a heaven?” he asked after a while. His voice was low, sounding as if it took all the effort he had to force those words from his mouth.

  I tore my head away from his chest, about to berate him, to tell him to stop thinking like that. Instead, I gave him the answer he probably needed at this moment. “I do.”

  “What do you think it’s like?”

  I buried my head into the crook of his neck, his normal aroma of basil, mint, and licorice long gone, replaced with the death and depravity that hung in the air, that clung to the walls, that permeated this dark place we’d found ourselves imprisoned in.

  “I think it’s paradise,” I answered with a tremble in my voice, the words like a knife to my heart. I needed to say them, though, to give Dante the serenity he deserved after everything he’d been through. “A place where we no longer feel pain of any kind. I think…” I looked into the distance as I imagined what it would be like to die, to finally be at peace. “I think it’s like coming home again after being gone for a long time. I think everyone you love is waiting for you, regardless of whether they’re still living.”

  “So you’ll be there?”

  I inhaled a shaky breath, doing everything I could to not break down. “I will.”

  “Will you be wearing that sundress you had on when you came to meet me at the Spanish Steps?”

  “The sundress? Why the sundress?”

  “Because it made you look like an angel.” His voice grew low, his breath coming farther apart. “I was standing at the very top of the steps by the Trinità dei Monti church. I didn’t expect you to actually show up. I stared at you as you paced in front of the fountain at the base of the steps. The way the light hit you made you seem ethereal.”

  “I was so nervous,” I admitted as we continued to reminisce, trying to find comfort in a happy memory. “On the way there, I almost had the cab turn around a dozen times. Luckily for you, the driver didn’t speak much English, so he wouldn’t have understood me if I asked.”

  “That is lucky for me.”

  “And for me,” I offered, a brief silence settling between us.

  Everything was still for a moment. No angry voices. No heavy feet stomping around the perimeter. No punches being thrown. I had a feeling it was simply the calm before the storm, but I wasn’t going to think about what kind of trouble would soon descend upon us. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t stop the tide from rolling in and washing us all out to sea.

  “I bought you a ring,” his voice broke through the quiet.

  “Shh,” I hushed him, covering his swollen lips with mine, kissing him. “It’s not over yet, Dante.”

  “Please, Elle,” he begged, his voice strained. I peered into his eyes, unsure of what to say. He’d never called me anything other than Eleanor in all the time I’d known him. “Maybe, by some miracle we’ll both make it out of here, but in case we don’t, I want you to know what I had planned.”

  I swallowed hard, no longer trying to silence him. I couldn’t deny him this, not when life slowly drained from him.

  “Do you remember what I told you the day I took you to the market in Italy?”

  I subtly nodded. “That you hoped the next man who asked me to marry him would give me the proposal I deserved.”

  “And that was my plan.”

  “Dante, I—”

  He clutched my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss on my skin. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time I’d feel the heat of his breath on me. “I was going to wait until we were back in Italy. It only seemed fitting to start the next chapter of our life in the precise location it all began.”

  I struggled to keep my chin from quivering as I listened to his beautiful baritone. “The Trevi Fountain.”

  “I wouldn’t write a speech or anything. I planned to just let the moment tell me what I should say. Just like that day at the market.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I meant every single word I said then. And I’ve meant every single word I’ve said since. You are my heart, my reason for breathing, my perfect match in every sense of the word. You are my heaven and hell. My happiness and despair. My beginning…” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling, “and my end.”

  Tears flowing freely down my face, I pressed my lips to his, wishing my warmth and love could breathe life back into him.

  “I wouldn’t get down on one knee. Not right away anyway. I’d reach into my pocket and—”

  A clattering reverberated through the warehouse, both of us jumping when it was followed by the sound of several pairs of boots, Miguel and his men reentering the open space. This time, they were joined by someone new…Marjorie. I
instinctively threw myself in front of Dante, wanting to shield him from any more suffering.

  “Ah, so I guess you really do love him,” Marjorie sneered in her shrill voice.

  She looked out of place surrounded by all the men holding knives and guns. Her perfectly tailored light pink suit, coifed hair, and signature pearls were in stark contrast to the black clothes covering the frames of everyone else. She had the appearance of a bored housewife, not some criminal mastermind. That was probably how she’d gotten away with what she had for so long. She was the last person anyone would suspect to be involved in something like this.

  “Some of the boys here hoped to have a hunt on their hands. That’s why they had Bradley undo your restraints. We’ve been taking bets on what you’d do.” She smirked. “I lost.”

  When she stepped closer, I splayed my arms wide, trying to protect Dante. “Stay away from him!”

  “Gladly…if you just tell me what I want to know.”

  “Not a chance in hell, Marjorie,” I sneered.

  “I had a feeling you’d say that.” A sadistic smirk crawled across her face as she nodded at Bradley, who headed toward me, peeling me away from Dante. Forcing me to my feet, he kept his hand firmly planted on my shoulder. I wasn’t stupid enough to try to make a run for it. It was a death wish. “Which is unfortunate because Miguel is a bit of a sadist when it comes to his victims. I, myself, prefer things to be taken care of quickly and easily, but I did tell him he could have complete control over how your boyfriend is disposed of.”

  I looked toward Miguel, my stomach churning when I noticed him sharpening a large knife that looked like it had once been used to butcher livestock.

  “I’m not an expert in these things, but it’s almost like he gets off on watching people suffer. I’ve seen it first-hand. With your pal, Blake, actually.” She grinned a sanctimonious smile. “It’s not pleasant. He brings them to the brink of death, then pulls back. I had to listen to his moans and pleas for a bullet in the head for five days.” She shivered dramatically. “It really made me feel for the poor sap.”

  “You don’t have an empathetic bone in your body,” I spat.

  She tilted her head, studying me. “My shrink used to say the same thing.” A thoughtful look briefly crossed her face, then she shrugged it off, her eyes narrowing on me once more. “Now, last chance, Ellie. Tell me where Cynthia Edelman is, or Miguel gets his way.” She gestured behind her toward where Miguel stood, sharpening his knife, each drag of his blade against the metal sharpener like a twist of barbed wire around my heart.

  “Don’t say anything,” Dante muttered, his jaw tight. “You don’t get to win, Marjorie. You’ve involved too many people in this. You can’t kill all of them. Someone will eventually talk.”

  “Doubtful.” She held her head high, waiting for either one of us to crack. “Well, if neither one of you will say anything…” She turned toward Miguel and grinned. “He’s all yours, amigo.”

  A sneer crossed Miguel’s face as he slowly approached Dante, who tried to back away, a feeble attempt at escape. Each step Miguel took was laborious and slow, my body trembling with the unknown. I looked at Dante, my lips parting, unsure what to say to give him the encouragement he’d be okay, that it wouldn’t be that bad. But I knew it would be. All Dante did was shake his head, telling me not to say a word.

  “Did I mention Miguel grew up in a family of butchers?” Marjorie mocked in a smug tone. “In fact, this was his family farm…until recently when your father ‘bought’ it,” she explained using air quotes. She leaned closer to me, her proximity making my skin crawl. “Just between you and me, I think he misses chopping up all those animals, so he satisfies that craving with his victims. That’s how he got his nickname.”

  Pedro strode up to Dante, forcing him to his feet as he rescued the shackles to his wrists. Reaching overhead, he grabbed one of the hooks lining the ceiling, attaching the chains binding Dante’s wrists to it, then hoisted him so he hung perilously, a piece of meat awaiting slaughter.

  I stared into his eyes, tuning everything else out. He’d always been my confident, powerful Dante. Now, slung up and chained, he looked meek. But there was a hint of clarity in his eyes, like he’d accepted his fate.

  The sound of Miguel sharpening his blade echoed in the space, each slice feeling like it was cutting into my soul. A chill rushed down my spine, my fingertips icy and cold. As Miguel grew closer, he shoved the sharpener into the back of his pants and raised a knife up to Dante’s shirt. My body tensed in unison with his. His strong chin trembled, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  When Miguel made a sudden movement, I flinched, inhaling a sharp breath. I expected to see blood spilling from Dante’s abdomen. Instead, one of the buttons on his shirt clattered to the floor, followed by another, and another, until Dante’s formerly white shirt hung open.

  “There are certain areas in an animal’s body that are considered kill zones,” Miguel explained in his thick Spanish accent. “Stabbing them in one of these spots is the easiest way to ensure a quick and relatively painless death. The first, of course, is the carotid artery.” With no regard for human life, he brought the knife toward Dante’s neck. He glanced back at me, pure evil filling his eyes as he seemed to get pleasure out of my reaction to him slowly drawing the blade across Dante’s throat, eliciting a pained groan.

  “No!” I screamed, starting toward him, but was held back by Bradley’s strong hold. “Stop!”

  “Did you really think I’d sever the carotid right away?” Miguel asked, his tone indicating his question was merely rhetorical. “That would be too easy. He’d bleed out in seconds. There’s no fun in that. I was simply marking its location. See?” He took Dante’s shirt, running it across his throat, wiping away the line of blood. “It’s a superficial wound…for now.”

  He retrieved his sharpener from the back of his pants, going through the laborious process of running the blade across the metal in an obvious attempt to intimidate and scare Dante…and me. It was working. I was petrified of what was going to happen next, unsure how much more either of us could endure.

  “Is it too much, Ellie?” Marjorie teased, pacing behind me. “You can put an end to it all right now. Just tell me where Cynthia Edelman is.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” I replied, tears falling down my cheeks.

  Marjorie looked between Dante and me, then shrugged. “You may continue, Miguel,” she said, as if she were ordering a glass of wine, not a man’s death.

  “Very well.” He grinned a cold smile, running his blade against his sharpener a few more times before returning to Dante. “Right here, we have the heart.” I held my breath as he raised the blade to his skin, carving a red X over where Dante’s heart was located.

  Dante clenched his fists, his face turning red as he tried not to react to the pain he was obviously suffering through. His chest heaved, his breathing labored. Tears clouded my vision as my hands shook.

  “The liver is close to the heart, right about here.” Miguel brought the blade back to Dante, carving a bright red X near his ribs on the right.

  As I watched Dante’s face contort from excruciating pain, I sobbed even harder, my throat too tight to draw in any meaningful breath.

  “And, of course, the kidneys…” Miguel marked just below his rib cage, blood spilling down his body. “One on each side.”

  He went around Dante’s back, marring his skin with another X in the same spot on the other side. Each time Miguel raised the blade, Dante grew weaker and weaker. I looked at the floor around him, seeing a small pool of blood forming, trickling down the concave floor toward one of the grates.

  With each groan, each moan, each cry, my tears fell more steadily, my limbs trembling even harder. I didn’t know how much more Dante could possibly endure.

  “You can put an end to this right now,” Marjorie reminded me yet again. “He doesn’t have to go through any of this. He doesn’t have to suffer this way. You can tell me where Cy
nthia is. He doesn’t deserve to die like this,” she taunted. “Carved up like a cadaver in med school. Don’t you love him enough to give him that?”

  “No, Eleanor,” Dante exhaled, his face paling, his voice barely audible.

  “There’s some less fatal areas of the body,” Miguel continued, not missing a beat. “The lungs.” Another slash of skin. Another draw of blood. Another agonizing groan. “The stomach.” Slash. Blood. Groan. “The bladder.” Slash. Blood. Groan. “But the intestines are my favorite.”

  He slowly raised the knife, allowing the seconds to stretch. Dante flinched when the metal brushed against his abdomen.

  “The intestines can take a direct hit.” His lips curling in the corners, he looked back at me as I braced for him to slice Dante again. I breathed a sigh of relief when he withdrew from him and paced in front of me instead. “But it won’t cause immediate death. The body will continue to function on a limited basis for hours. But the pain is excruciating as your own body poisons itself. The cause of death isn’t because of a blow to the intestines. It’s because of exsanguination, the loss of the majority of the blood.” He stopped directly in front of me. “Not the way I’d choose to die.”

  In an abrupt move, he rushed toward Dante, drawing a line across his abdomen, the cut deeper than any of his previous assaults. Dante bellowed out, the screams and moans endless as blood flowed steadily from his stomach.

  Sickened by the scene unfolding in front of me, I retched. Bradley loosened his hold on me and I fell to my knees, Dante’s cries cutting me open.

  “Enough!” I screamed, unable to take any more of this torment, struggling to see clearly through the relentless tears falling from my eyes.

  “Enough?” Marjorie bent down, leering at me. “You’re ready to tell me what I need to know?”

  “No,” Dante said in a pained voice, his breathing labored. “It’s not an option. I’m dead anyway. Don’t give this to her. Not because of me.”

  “What’ll it be, Eleanor?” she pushed, her face so close to mine.