“I know Denise. She’s been forced to live a certain life, but she doesn’t have to do that anymore.”
Illiana smiled. “You’re her savior?”
I shook my head. “No. Denise saved herself. I’m just lucky enough to get to be a part of it.”
She tilted her head to one side. “Hm. Looks likesomegood came out of Anthony Carducci, after all. Pity.”
The sound of thundering footsteps preceded the man who I’d given my phone to come rushing back into the room. He handed it down to me with a determined look on his face. “I got your brother’s location. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-One:Denise
When I came to, my head was pounding. Shockwaves of soreness cracked out from a concentrated point on the back of my head. I tried to lift my hand to rub it but couldn’t. Ropes burned against my wrist as I tried to pull free, so finally, even though I was afraid of what I might find, I peeled my eyes open and looked around.
The room I was in was totally dark, and I was sitting in an armchair with my wrists and ankles bound by rope. It seemed like I was in a basement of some sort, but I wasn’t in Anthony’s kill room, though I had no idea if that made me feel better or worse.
Part of me wanted to call out and see if someone responded, but I was tied up, and the last person I saw was a man who had not been quiet about his desire to see me dead, so my situation did not invoke confidence that whoeverdidrespond would be someone I’d want to see. So, instead, I focused my attention on trying to break free.
It didn’t shock me that the ropes were well tied, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. I glanced around the room, which was mostly empty, but I did spy a table across the room that had more than one glinting metal instrument atop it. I couldn’t see what they were from where I was, but I had a feeling at least one of them could help me. Even if they couldn’t, what other choice did I have?
Though my wrists and legs were bound, there was nothing binding me to the chair, so with some maneuvering, I wiggled myself up into a standing position and started to carefully hop my way across the room toward the table.
The closer I got, the more I could see that the different tools on the table were a collection of instruments of torture. Several sharp blades, a corkscrew, an eye-gouger—all things I’d had the unfortunate favor of learning a little too much about throughout my life. Donovan Binachi, my father, was known for his propensity for torture. He colored himself a savant when it came to the different devices one could use to make someone regret ever being born, and though both of my Binachi brothers had both managed to evolve into clean-cut killers, my dad often tried to force the love of torture down their throats. He’d had a little too much fun while trying to torture the Binachis both up close and from a distance, and that ultimately cost him his life.
Unfortunately, none of the objects were ideal for trying to get out of a rope. The larger items were all sharp but would also cut me while I freed myself of my restraints, and the smaller ones would likely take forever. I wasn’t sure how much time I had before anyone showed up to use some of these devices on me, but killing myself while trying to free myself was not the headline I wanted to die with, so I used my bound hands to sandwich the eye gouger, and then I made my way back over to the chair. I sat in it and kicked my legs up over the arm so that I could bend forward and rake the blades of the eye gouger across the rope that held my ankles together.
“How interesting,” a voice hissed out. “I honestly expected you to go for something flashier.”
I froze in place and started whipping my head all around. I didn’t see anyone at first, but then my eyes landed on someone in the shadows almost directly behind the chair I was in. He stepped out into the dull overhead lights, and I saw that it was Arturo.
“I thought it might be interesting to see what you’d choose if given the chance.” He walked around me and moved over to the table with all the different items on it. He pulled a pair of gloves out from one of the drawers and slid them over his hands, then made his way back to me and snatched the gouger from my hand. “This will take longer to kill you with, but it’ll be more fun.”
Something about knowing I was going to be tortured to death by a man who looked identical to the man I’d married barely twenty-four hours ago made my stomach churn. My mind quickly went back to Philly, back to the hedge maze I’d bolted into. I’d cornered Willow Varasso there after she discovered the truth about me, making me sure that I had no choice but to kill her or be discovered. I pointed a gun at her head and brought her down to her knees. I made her husband watch as I prepared to kill her. She sobbed and poured out her heart to him, believing she was going to die.
I could only imagine it was that moment that I was receiving karma for now.
If I could go back in time, hell, even if I could go forward in time, I would find a way to apologize to Willow for the continued anguish and torture I’d dragged her through during my time in the Varasso household. I understood better than ever now that there was an honor in wanting to protect your family and bravery in being willing to do it even at your own risk. After everything I’d been through, I found myself looking up to her, but I would never be as good a woman as Willow. Not if I spent my whole life trying.
“What are you thinking about?” Arturo asked. “My brother? How much you’ve poisoned his mind and dragged him away from his own family?”
“I’m trying to figure out why,” I said. “What did I do to earn so much hate from you?”
“You have been nothing but a problem since the day you first walked into our lives,” Arturo responded almost immediately. “Callista would have never known about Illiana, my dad wouldn’t have become so paranoid, and things wouldn’t have gone so south with the Binachis and the Varassos. My brother would still be my brother, not the sniveling simp you turned him into. We’d be halfway to helming control over this world if only you’d stayed in the littlerat holeyou crawled out of.” His eyes narrowed in my direction, then he walked over to the table and slammed the gouger on it. He picked up one of the cleavers instead. He turned it over in his hands, and the light caught it, glimmering off the blade and filling me with dread. “Yeah. That little thing isn’t going to cut it. I want to make you suffer for ruining my family.”
Hearing the story told from that angle was enlightening. Just because you’re the hero in your own story doesn’t mean that you’re not the villain in someone else’s. The way Arturo described everything was the exact fear I’d been developing during the last day. Up until my drive back from Minnesota, I assumed that I’d run, but I realized that I was starting several fires with my plan of action, not putting them out. In my selfishness to end Illiana, I’d dragged more than a few people in with me, and I could admit that I didn’t stop to think for a second about how it affected them. I just assumed that everyone would have the same passion I had to stop Illiana’s crazy tactic, but there were other people for whom that tactic had caused even greater harm than me.
I had some cleaning up to do.
Arturo turned around and started toward me with his cleaver in his hand. I wasn’t hopeful that anything I said to him would make him change his mind, but that didn’t stop me from looking up at him and saying, “I’m sorry.”
He stopped moving. “What?”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I caused your family a lot of trouble. I can’t regret falling in love with Ashton, but I regret hurting any of you.”
“What? Do you think this is an afterschool special or something? That you can say sorry and I’ll just forgive you?”
“No,” I replied. “I know you’re going to kill me, but I needed you to know that I am sorry.”
“Well, good. Now I know.” He took another step toward me but stopped suddenly.
