We’re led into the heart of the mansion — Ciccone’s office.
The moment we enter I know the reason we’ve been let into his secure home so easily.
Ciccone sits at his desk, hunched over. He’s pale and sickly white. He’s having a hard time breathing, allowing a portable machine to do most of the work.
He’s dying.
With his hand, Ciccone weakly motions for us to come in.
His right-hand man, Alessandro Mancini, sits in the corner of the room behind Ciccone and barely gives us a second glance as we enter. He’s tall and skinny in stature with graying brown hair and matching eyes. I remember him well from my childhood, as he was also there the night my father was murdered in cold blood right in front of my eyes.
Alessandro had been my father’s friend, or so I had thought. But he did nothing to stop the brutality that befell upon my family that terrible night.
As a child, I had mentally added him to the list of people I wanted wiped off the face of this earth. Ciccone has always been number one on my list, of course.
And yet the old fuck is still here. Still breathing. Still living.
“How are you still alive?” I ask Ciccone, and I don’t even try to hide my disgust.
He pulls the breathing mask from his face and gives me a vicious smile. “By the…grace…of god,” he gasps before violently coughing.
“You’re dying,” I offer, which offers me a nod of his head.
“It’s amazing the…amount of tests…they run at the hospital. They found…the lung cancer when they were…checking out the…from the gunshot wounds.” He wheezes in and out before adding, “Stage four.”
The man who has haunted my dreams since I was a child is dying. So why am I not happy? As I look down at the dying man, I know exactly why I’m not. It’s because he’s not paying for the crimes he committed against my family. I should have been the one to kill him, not cancer.
“Have you found out where they’re keeping Victoria yet?” I ask him, impatiently, getting straight to the reason behind this meeting.
Ciccone tries to speak, but instead begins to wheeze wildly. He replaces his oxygen mask and motions for Alessandro to do the talking.
“We haven’t found her yet, but we’ve been searching through Nolan Farrell’s property records, trying to locate her.”
Hearing the man speak brings back haunting memories. Memories I’d like to keep buried…six feet under next to his rotting fucking corpse.
Ciccone pulls off his mask once more. “The last time…I spoke to Victoria…she made me realize…all the wrong I’ve done…to you and your family.” He gasps for air, but continues on. “I’m…sorry, Arlo.”
The words I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear have finally been said. But I don’t feel anything. My cold, black soul has been too hardened with the reality and cruelties of this world. “Apologizing won’t bring any of them back,” I tell him with clenched fists at my sides.
He nods emphatically. “I know that.” He scribbles something on a piece of paper and passes it across the desk.
I take a step forward and take it. Unfolding the paper, I stare at the name he scrawled, trying to make sense of it. It takes a few seconds before it finally clicks. This is the man he sold my sister to.
“Find Sara,” Ciccone tells me. “And find Victoria.”
“How do you propose I do all of this?” I ask incredulously. I don’t have the power like he does. He should be the one finding Victoria.
“I want you…to run…my empire.”
That earns a reaction from Alessandro. “You can’t mean that, Giorgio!” he exclaims, standing up quickly.
Obviously, Alessandro was figuring on running things after Ciccone kicked the bucket. I have to hold back a chuckle as I watch the two older men argue back and forth.
“The decision has been made!” Ciccone finally shouts, slamming his hand down on his desk.
Alessandro throws his hands up in the air and then takes his seat once more, shaking his head in disbelief.
Baz looks to me and says, “You’ve got everything you wanted, my friend.” He inclines his head towards the piece of paper in my hand.
Baz is right. I have everything I want, except for two things — Victoria…and my revenge.
Reaching under my jacket, I pull out my Glock and aim it towards Alessandro. He doesn’t even have a chance to speak before his brains are plastered against the tall shelves of books behind him and there’s a gaping, bloody hole where his right eye used to be.
Then, I turn my gun on Ciccone. The old man looks resigned to his death, and it almost pisses me off. I wanted him to suffer greatly, but I’m running out of time.
“Promise me…you’ll take care…of Victoria,” he gasps.
“You have my word,” I tell him.
Ciccone closes his eyes, and I put a bullet between them, just like I always promised myself I would.
When his body falls backwards onto the floor from the impact, I stand there, making sure the devil himself doesn’t come back to life…again. Then, I slowly lower my gun. My panting breaths fill the room.
Baz places a hand on my shoulder, jolting me back to reality. “Easy, my friend,” he soothes me.
The sound of footsteps running up the stairs draws my attention to the door of Ciccone’s office.
No, not his.
It’s my fucking office now.
“What should we do if anyone tries to overthrow the new king of the Italian mob?” Baz asks from beside me.
“We’ll kill every last one of them.”
“Good choice, my friend,” Baz says before unholstering his gun and pointing it towards the door.
CHAPTER 10
DAMON
TAKING OVER CICCONE’S empire was no easy task. Once Baz and I took down a dozen or so of Ciccone’s most loyal thugs, the rest reluctantly began to fall in line. By the end of the day, we were covered in the blood of our enemies and respected by our new underlings.
With Ciccone now gone and a new boss in his place, I gave my newly appointed men the order that finding Victoria was our top priority.
Two days later, I was completely moved into the mansion, which had been thoroughly cleaned up after the path of destruction we had left behind.
On the third day, Baz and I are sitting in my new office. Baz has been sticking around, only returning to his underground lair for the necessities. And I have to admit it’s been nice having him here. I gave him a wing of the mansion just for him and his men, and he was happy for it. He told me he was tired of living with the sewer rats, and I can’t say that I blame him. It’s about damn time he lives and thrives in the light.
I still carry around the piece of paper that Ciccone scrawled on before I killed him. It’s been burning a hole in my pocket, but I haven’t even asked Baz to search for the man yet. My entire focus has been on Victoria, and that’s where I want his attention right now as well.
I’ll worry about finding Sara after Victoria is back and safe in my arms.
“Another video just came through,” Baz announces, bringing me out of my thoughts, as he makes some typing sounds on his laptop. I’m quick to open the email on my own computer, and I stare at the screen as yet another video of Victoria being tortured plays before me.
She looks thinner, frailer, and it guts me to my very core.
Like every other video, I force myself to watch even though I want to do anything else in the world right now than witness her torture.
And just like every other video, I’m completely drained and full of regret and anguish by the end of it.
The videos haven’t stopped coming, and each one is worse than the last. Victoria’s cries and her screams… Fuck, they’re going to haunt me for the rest of my days on earth.
“We have to find her!” I grit out to Baz.
He nods solemnly. “I’m trying everything I can do, my friend. I’m utilizing all of my resources.”
“Well, it’s not good enough!” I p
ractically scream, slamming my hand down on the desk.
Baz purses his lips, and I know he’s close to telling me to go fuck off. I mean, I have been exploiting him and all of his assets for close to a week now, demanding answers, demanding everything under the sun from him as if he’s some kind of goddamn miracle worker.
But I need to find Victoria. Before it’s too late.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him while scrubbing a hand down my face. “This whole thing has got my head so fucked up. I can’t even tell which way is up anymore.”
Baz is silent for a while before he suggests, “Maybe you should take a break for a few hours, my friend. Get some sleep. Maybe eat. And take a shower, for chrissakes,” he grumbles while wrinkling his nose in disgust.
I stare at him for a moment before a small bout of laughter bubbles out of my throat. Fuck, it has been a while since I’ve taken a shower…or even slept in a bed. My amusement is short-lived, but at least it’s a different emotion from the hatred and anger I’ve been feeling for days.
Baz’s lips crack into a grin as a soft chuckle escapes him. “You’re not helping anyone or Victoria, for that matter, by letting yourself go, my friend,” he explains. “I will let you know the moment anything changes.”
Giving him a nod, I know he’s right. Maybe a shower and some sleep will help me refresh, help me be able to think of something new to try to get Victoria back.
I make my way to one of the guest bedrooms in the west wing of the house that I have claimed as mine. It’s spacious with dark, antique furniture and a bathroom that’s bigger than most people’s apartments. Plus, the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooks the entire front yard of the estate. It’s perfect.
I’m the only one residing in this wing of the house, so it’s private.
And very lonely.
I never thought going into this that I would actually fall for Victoria. That I would miss everything about her once she was out of my life.
I miss her laugh, her blue eyes that look violet in certain light, the way her hair fell over her shoulder in such a carefree way whenever she walked. Fuck, I just miss her.
Once I’m under the stream of hot water, as hot as I can stand it without actually burning my skin, I think over the efforts that have been made thus far.
We started with Nolan’s properties, raiding every single one, but coming up empty each and every time. Victoria is being kept somewhere, but obviously a place where only Nolan himself knows about. And since Nolan and his most trusted men are with him at this place, the people we’ve tried questioning don’t know shit about anything.
Baz has tried tracing the IP addresses from the emails, but the ping usually bounces around the world and usually ends up in China or Australia. So that’s just another dead-end.
Nolan didn’t miss a single step when he decided to kidnap Victoria. He is keeping her someplace where I may never find her, and he’s covering his tracks well. Too well.
I slam my fist into the wet tiled wall of the shower, grimacing at the pain that shoots through my knuckles and through my forearm.
There has to be something we’re missing. But I have no idea what it is.
Finishing my shower, I get dressed and fall face first into bed. It doesn’t take long before I’m drifting off, after having been sleep deprived for so many days.
My nightmares are filled with Victoria’s cries and screams. And even in my dreams I’m helpless to save her.
CHAPTER 11
VICTORIA
IT’S DAY NINE…or maybe ten. I can’t keep track anymore. They were feeding me regular meals to keep my strength up for the torture I’ve been enduring, but now they’ve stopped giving me nourishment altogether.
My belly aches with hunger but roils with sickness whenever I even think of food.
I think I’m dying.
No. I know I’m dying.
It’s only a matter of time before my body finally gives out.
It hurts to move, but most of all it hurts to breathe. I feel like I’m drowning even when I’m not even near the water. My lungs rattle a deathly sound with every inhale and exhale, and I fear I might die a slow and agonizing death from dry drowning or suffocation.
When I hear footsteps outside of my room, my body freezes into stone. Every time that door opens, only one of two things happen — I get to eat or I get tortured.
And since they haven’t been worried about me eating…that can only mean one thing.
The familiar squeak of the bar being lifted sends me into a tailspin as my mind tries to cope with the fact that the torture is about to begin. The smell of urine fills the room as I lose my bladder from pure, undiluted fear.
A low, keening sound rises from the back of my throat, and I curl up into a ball on the blanket on the cold, concrete floor. Not again. I can’t endure another session. And even though I’ve mentally told myself the same exact thing the past few times it’s happened, I seriously think this could be my last.
My body is ready to stop fighting. My brain is telling me to give up.
No one is coming for me. So why should I even try to live? What am I holding out for? Simply more torture?
Heavy footfalls carry someone across the room until they stop in front of my makeshift bed on the floor. My body shivers uncontrollably from the cold, dampness of the room and from the fear of what’s about to happen to me.
“Look at me,” a deep voice with an Irish lilt demands.
Slowly, I open my eyes and turn my head. Brody, Nolan’s oldest son, is standing before me wearing dark jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He’s tall and muscular with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes. But I can see the hatred for me in his gaze as he looks upon me with disgust.
He bends down and reaches for me, but I slink away from his touch. Scoffing, he stands upright and takes a step back. “I can make all of this stop, Victoria,” he says after a beat.
Make it stop?
I stare up at him, unable to speak through the tremors wracking my body.
“I can put an end to all of your suffering. Right now,” he offers.
What’s the catch? is all I can think in my head. There must be one.
As if reading my mind, Brody tells me, “My father gave me the choice for your fate. He said if I want you as my wife, I can have you.” He leans down and calmly swipes my damp hair away from my face. This time I don’t move a muscle. “I want to try you out for myself first. See if I want to save you.” His hand trails down my face and cups my breast through my threadbare shirt. “Give yourself to me willingly, and I’ll think about saving your life.”
A silent sob wracks my body as he pinches my nipple. Hard.
With all the strength I can muster, I knock his hand away and glare at him. “I’d…rather…die,” I spit out at him through clenched teeth.
He stands and glares down at me with abhorrence. “Suit yourself, whore.” He snaps his fingers, and two guards appear instantly through the open doorway. “It’s time for your next treatment.”
I scream and fight and bite and kick, but my body is too weak to do any damage as the two brutes effortlessly pick me up and carry me out of the room.
As they carry me down the hall to the room that I have dubbed the torture room, all I can think is that this time I’m going to inhale the water and end this nightmare.
There’s no reason to fight anymore.
And as my body goes limp in their arms, I know I’ve finally given up and resigned myself to my horrible fate and untimely death.
CHAPTER 12
DAMON
IT’S DAY FIFTEEN, and Victoria is still out there, in the clutches of Nolan Farrell. To say I’m a fucking mess would be the understatement of the goddamn century. I can’t fucking eat…or sleep…or even think half the time.
Nothing will be right in my world until she is returned to me.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I mean, yeah, I took my revenge on her father, but Victoria was going to move on past all of t
hat. She was supposed to have a beautiful life without me to ruin and soil it.
She was supposed to be happy without me.
And now she’s locked away someplace where I can’t get to her, being beaten and tortured…maybe even raped.
The thought has my knees almost buckling as I walk the rest of the way to my office.
Baz is already inside, and I can tell by the look on his face that there is yet another video.
The videos have been coming in daily, and each video takes a part of my soul that I will never get back.
Every single tear she sheds, every single scream that comes out of her mouth destroys me piece by piece.
Without a single word spoken, I go to the desk and sit down in the plush, leather chair. My fingers feel numb as I push the mouse button to play the video.
And when it begins to play, I can’t seem to avert my eyes. It’s like a car crash that you just can’t look away from. I don’t want to look, but I have to.
Halfway through the video, I realize something is vastly different about this one.
“No, no, no, no,” I whisper to myself.
This video is different from all the rest because Victoria isn’t screaming. Not even once. But more importantly, she’s not fighting back. She has just…given up.
By the end of the video, I’m a fucking mess. Gripping the ends of my hair and pulling hard, I watch as some bastard gives Victoria CPR to bring her back to life.
She either swallowed the water on purpose or was too weak to hold her breath.
I watch them bring her back to life, and I can see the despondent look in her eyes. She didn’t want to be brought back to that hellhole.
She wants to die.
And by the end of the video, I know one thing for sure — I’m running out of fucking time.
Victorious: A Dark Mafia Romance (Deviant Series Book 2) Page 4