The Choice (House of Sin Book 6)

by Elisabeth Naughton

  My father barked, “Continue.”

  Benito grasped Natalie by the arms and threw her down, then straddled her hips to keep her legs from nailing him.

  I knew full well why my father had left Benito with Natalie. Because he was the most depraved of the three. And when I heard Benito snarl, “How do you want it, bitch? Do you want it the way I gave it to your friend?” I knew the other reason he’d picked Benito was to torment Natalie one last time before she died.

  Fight! I wanted to scream the word. To yell for her not to give in, but I knew if I did, all of this would be for naught. So I bit my tongue and swallowed the roar building in my throat as I heard Natalie’s clothing rip. As her screams echoed in my ears. As they melded with Benito’s growls and taunts.

  And I prayed. I prayed harder than I ever had before.

  “Your little distraction won’t stop this,” my father mocked. “There’s nothing up there to burn besides a few benches. You’ve lost.”

  “No, you’ve lost,” Marco said in a low voice somewhere close.

  My father sucked in a surprised breath.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Marco said. I jerked my head around and stared up at the knife Marco held at my father’s carotid artery. “Or I’ll slit your throat.”

  My father growled, “You’ll hang for this.”

  “Possibly,” Marco whispered. “Now unchain him. Very slowly, and very quietly.”

  They shuffled close, then the chains at my wrists dropped to the dirt floor with a thud.

  I jerked out of my seat. Every instinct in my body screamed for me to rush to Natalie, but I resisted, because if I did, my emotions would overpower me and everything we’d planned would fail.

  “Go,” I said to Marco, taking the knife from his hand and pressing it to my father’s throat from the front as I backed him to the wall.

  “You don’t have it in you,” my father sneered, taunting me, even now when he was trapped.

  I flicked the blade across his cheek, then pressed it back to his throat. Blood oozed from the four-inch gash. “Don’t test me. I promise you won’t like the results.”

  A grunt sounded at my back, followed by a gurgling sound and Natalie’s bloodcurdling scream.

  I couldn’t look. I forced myself not to turn. But I saw what happened in my father’s horrified eyes.

  “It’s okay, Natalie. It’s me, Marco. It’s time to go.”

  “Marco?” Natalie said in a dazed voice.

  “Yeah, come on. We have to go.”

  Footsteps sounded at my back but I still didn’t look to see that she was ok.

  “Luc? Oh God, Luc!”

  Her voice moved out into the corridor, and I heard her scream my name again, followed by Marco’s low voice trying to quiet her. But I focused on my father.

  His eyes turned icy, roiling with contempt. “You are no son of mine. They’ll torture you for this. You think that flogging was bad? Wait until the Grande Cavaliere gets his hands on you. You’ll beg for death before it’s over.”

  All the rage I’d lived with, all the misery he’d put me through, every ounce of torture I’d endured—mentally, emotionally, physically—it all gathered inside me like lava rushing up through an active volcano. And when it reached the peak, I didn’t even try to hold it in.

  I tossed the knife toward the wall, drew my fist back and slammed it into his nose. He spun down the wall. I grabbed him again and plowed my fist into his face. Cracking his cheek, his jaw, the bones around his eye. Fury was my weapon, and I let it fuel me, I let it control me. I let it consume me.

  My father sagged against the dirt floor and gasped, bloody and bruised, a shadow of the man I’d once known.

  I stumbled back and stared at him, feeling nothing as I breathed deeply. No remorse. No pity. Not even a fraction of the emotion a son should feel for his father.

  “Bastardo!”

  My father hurled himself at me. Even battered and bloody he was strong, and he took me down hard.

  I grunted as my back hit the dirt. His fist cracked against my jawbone, sending the coppery taste of blood across my tongue. My head snapped to the right.

  He scrambled to his knees and drew his fist back again, but I was quicker. I hooked a leg over his and flipped him to his back. And then I slammed my fists against his face. One after another, until he was limp beneath me and groaning, begging for me to stop.

  I stumbled off him, but only long enough to grab the rope Marco had left me by the door. Coming back to my father, I grasped him by the collar and dragged him toward the bed.

  Benito’s limp body lay at an angle over the mattress, his lifeless eyes staring toward the wall, blood from his slit throat covering his body. I shoved my foot against him and sent him rolling off the far side, then I hauled my father up and onto the mattress where I made quick work of the rope, tying it around his wrists and ankles and looping one end to the rusted iron headboard so he couldn’t get free.

  He groaned, struggled, and looked toward me with his swollen and bloodied face as I moved back to the door. “Lu...ci...ano.”

  I grabbed the can of kerosene Marco had left with the rope. Kerosene my father and his sick Knights used to keep the torches lit down here when they chained beta kittens to these walls and mattresses and raped and tortured them as if they were nothing but animals.

  “I told you I would make you suffer the way you’ve made countless others suffer.” I sprinkled kerosene all over Benito and my father.

  My father sputtered and gasped as the liquid splashed into his mouth.

  “I told you I’d kill you if you touched her.” I set the kerosene on the ground at my feet and pulled a cigar from my pocket. “You should have listed to me.”

  His swollen eyes widened in true terror as I pulled out a book of matches, put the cigar in my mouth, and lit the end.

  “N-no.” He struggled harder against the ropes holding him down. “N-no you c-can’t. I’m your f-father.”

  I stared down at him. “You’re a monster. And your reign in this House is over.”

  I dropped the smoldering cigar at his side. It fell against the mattress and smoked. But no matter how he wiggled and twisted, he couldn’t reach it. And he couldn’t put it out.

  Tugging a match from the booklet, I struck it against the back. A single flame ignited in my hand.

  “Please, son. I’ll do anything.” Panic lifted Antonio Salvatici’s voice two octaves. “Stop this madness at once!”

  I stared into his eyes—eyes that were just like mine—and flicked the burning match toward the bed.

  It ignited the kerosene with a pop and a burst of flames that sent me back several steps. My father’s ear-piercing scream echoed through the catacombs as the fire consumed him. I lifted a hand against the heat and moved farther back. And as our eyes met for the last time and I watched his flesh begin to melt, I knew I was finally free.

  I didn’t wait around to watch him die. Coughing against the smoke already billowing through the cell, I turned for the corridor and tugged the collar of my shirt over my mouth.

  I could have gone back up through the sanctuary of the old church on my parents’ property that camouflaged this torture chamber, but I wasn’t sure what I’d find there. And I was desperate to get to Natalie. So I used the old hidden tunnel Marco had reminded me of when he’d stopped me from going balls out on my own after Natalie and we’d hatched this plan. The same hidden tunnel we’d used when we were ten that we’d discovered one day by chance led from the woods near the ritual stone into the catacombs that ran under the chapel.

  It took longer than I remembered to make my way through the old tunnel. Several times I scraped my arms and legs on the uneven rock walls. And just when I was sure Marco had lied to me and this tunnel went nowhere, I spotted a faint light ahead.

  I moved out of the tunnel and into the forest around me. Dusk had already darkened, and stars twinkled above. Voices echoed ahead through the trees. Squinting, I was almost sure I saw a flashlight.r />
  I pushed the brush aside and stumbled into the clearing. Marco whipped around when he heard me, slowing his pacing near the ritual rock. But my eyes focused on Natalie, wrapped in a blanket, shaking as she sat on a log.

  I moved toward her, my heart in my throat, afraid of what I’d see. “Angioletto.”

  Her head came up. Her gaze locked on mine. Even in the low light I could see her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, her cheek bruised and her lip split. And there was dried blood splattered across her face and clothing.

  “Luc...” She jerked off the log and threw her arms around me, holding on with a death grip as she shook against me.

  “I’ve got you,” I managed, pushing the words past my suddenly tight throat as I held her close and brushed a hand down her tangled hair, trying to be gentle because I knew she was in pain. “I’m here.”

  She tightened her arms around me and pressed her face to my throat, her muffled sobs echoing in my ears.

  My heart cracked. I fought my own tears as I held her closer, trying to comfort her, trying to hold it together so I could be strong for her just as she’d been strong for me so many times.

  “I’ve got you,” I said again. “You’re safe. No one’s ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

  Marco crossed behind her, lifted the blanket from the ground, and gently laid it over her shoulders. I took it from him and carefully pulled it around her, then closed my arms over the blanket at her back to hold it in place.

  “She’s okay,” Marco whispered to me as I held her. “They didn’t rape her. Just roughed her up. A lot.”

  I sucked in a relieved breath and closed my eyes as I pressed my lips to her hair. It was a small consolation, but I’d take it.

  “Your father?” Marco asked.

  “Gone.”

  “About damn time.”

  But in his eyes, I saw what else he was thinking. The same damn thing I was thinking. All that would come next.

  Footsteps sounded on the path. Marco stepped in front of Natalie where I held her and reached for his knife. But as soon as he saw the four men, each dressed in black, he returned the blade to the sheath at his hip and relaxed.

  “How did it go?” Marco asked as they drew close.

  The leader of the four, the one with white hair tied at his nape who didn’t look nearly young enough for this kind of activity, stopped in front of us and rested his hands on his hips. “The church is burning. The two guards and one that came up from below were neutralized. We left them inside.”

  “Good,” Marco said.

  “Wait.” I looked from face to face as the other three men from the Seventh Sanctum, all younger than the first, and eager to join our fight when Felicity had called on them, stopped beside him. “There were two that went up from below.”

  “The short-haired one was killed,” the leader said. “The long-haired one who attacked Signora Salvatici earlier today in Florence charged one of my men, knocked him to the ground, then raced out of the church. We couldn’t catch up with him in time to stop him.”

  My jaw clenched, and I looked toward Marco. “Giovanni.”

  “A coward like always. He won’t risk showing his face anytime soon. He knows what this means.”

  No, but this changed things dramatically.

  Natalie sniffled and pushed back from me. “G-Gio got away?”

  “It’s okay, vita mia. We’ll find him. There aren’t many places he can hide. He can’t hurt us again.”

  She turned damp and red-rimmed eyes up to me. “I know he can’t,” she whispered. “Because we are unbreakable.”

  In the middle of what had to be the most traumatic moment of her life, my Natalie was still solid strength. Even after everything they’d done to her. I hadn’t thought it was possible to love her more than I already did, but I fell even harder for her in the one place in the world I never thought we’d visit again.

  “Ti amo,” I choked out, grabbing her and holding her close. “Sei la vita mia. Forever and ever.”

  “I love you too,” she whispered against me.

  Someone cleared their throat. Then the white haired man said, “We all need to leave.”

  Marco and I thanked each of the men while Natalie clutched the blanket around her and waited. Just before they left, she moved toward the white-haired man and said, “Signore Vecellio, thank you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for everything.”

  She pushed up on her bare toes and kissed his cheek. As she lowered to her heels in the dirt, he smirked and looked my way.

  “Prove me wrong, giovane selvaggio. Don’t make us regret this alliance.”

  The four disappeared into the darkness. In the distance, I heard sirens, telling me the fire had finally been noticed.

  “Come on.” I reached for Natalie and gently lifted her into my arms. “Let’s get you home.”

  She didn’t make any move to walk on her own, just wrapped her arms around my shoulders and let me be her strength. But very softly, she said, “What did he call you?”

  “Young savage.”

  She smiled up at me then rested her head on my shoulder. “Fitting.”

  “Bloody hell,” Felicity exclaimed, meeting us at the front door as I carried Natalie into the main house.

  “I’m fine,” Natalie said to her. “And I can walk perfectly well, this young savage just refuses to let me.”

  Damn right I wasn’t letting her walk. Not until Felicity had a chance to make sure she really was all right.

  “Take her upstairs,” Felicity said to me. “Second door on the left.”

  I hefted Natalie higher in my arms and moved up the steps. Below I could hear Marco and Felicity talking quietly about what had happened as the front door shut.

  “Everyone can stop worrying about me.” Natalie laid her head on my shoulder again. “I really am fine.”

  I wasn’t so sure. Yes, she was arguing—like normal—but she hadn’t let go of me once since we’d left those woods. In the car, she’d sat curled against my lap as Marco drove, her arms wrapped around my neck, holding on with a death grip. And when I’d lifted her from the car and headed toward the house, she hadn’t made a single move to stand on her own.

  “Just let us take care of you. You’ve been taking care of everyone else long enough.”

  She cringed as I set her carefully on the mattress in the suite that held an old stone fireplace, a small sitting area with a couch and several chairs, and three arched glass doors that opened to a long balcony.

  “Where does it hurt?” I asked her.

  “Everywhere.”

  She must have seen my jaw clench in reaction because she squeezed my arms. “I’m kidding. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all.”

  She struggled to smile up at me, and I could see just tipping her head back a tiny bit caused her pain. My stomach pitched, and I fought to hold it together. I could handle my own pain, but not Natalie’s.

  “Wait here.” I tugged my hand from hers and moved toward the door. “Fee.”

  “I...” Gritting her teeth, Natalie braced her hands on the mattress and scooted back so she could rest against the pillows. “I’m really fine, Luc. Please, just come back.”

  “I’m here.” Felicity swept past me and into the room.

  “She needs something for the pain.” I turned after Felicity.

  “I need to check you out first.” Felicity moved to the side of the bed and reached for the hem of Natalie’s ripped sweatshirt. “Show me where it hurts mo—”

  Her voice died on a gasp. I stepped toward her to see what she was looking at, but Felicity tugged Natalie’s sweatshirt down quickly and turned toward me.

  “She’s going to need fresh clothes, Luc. She’s too tall for most of my stuff. Can you run down to the villa and grab her some things? Sweats? Pajamas? Something loose and comfortable.”

  “Yes.” I had a feeling there was something she didn’t want me to see. “But—”

  “She’ll be fine.” She pushed two han
ds against my chest, forcing me back a step. “When you get back, I’ll be done with her, and I can take a look at your forehead.”

  “I don’t need any—”

  “You’ve got a gash there that needs stitching. Go.”

  I glanced toward the bed where Natalie was still reclined in the pillows, but her eyes were now closed, and one hand was resting near her ribs, her breaths slow and shallow. “Angioletto?”

  Her eyes popped open, but I saw the quick shot of pain that rushed over her features before she masked it. “I-I’m fine. Go so you can come right back.”

  I didn’t want to leave her, but Marco tugged on my arm. “Come on, Luc. I’ll help you.”

  We made it to the stairs, then Felicity’s voice echoed at our backs. “Luc, wait.”

  I turned, every inch of my body on instant alert the second I saw the worry darkening Fee’s normally light eyes. “What?”

  She shot Marco one wary look, then focused on me. “I didn’t want you to react in front of Natalie. You didn’t see her side, did you?”

  Fear shot up my throat. “What’s wrong with her side?”

  I tried to step around Felicity so I could rush back to Natalie, but she moved in my way and held up two hands, blocking me. “This is the kind of reaction you can’t let her see. Luc, focus on me.”

  “What?” I looked down at her, my heart thumping hard and fast. “What did you see? Tell me.”

  “Physically, she’s going to be fine. She’ll heal. But, they marked her.”

  “Marked her how? What are you talking about?”

  She drew a breath and glanced toward Marco at my back again before refocusing on me. “They branded her.”

  “Santo Dio...”

  “It’s a death rune. I’m going to guess it’s the same one they branded Maricella with, from what you told me.”

  My mind spun with the consequences of this news. I’d thought that was a tattoo on Maricella, but a brand still carried the same meaning. “If anyone else sees it...”

  “Yeah. I know. They’ll know your father passed judgment on her before his death. They’ll put two and two together and realize what happened to the leader of House Salvatici.”