I rip the IV needle from the back of my hand, ignoring the stream of dark blood that drips down my wrist and stains the white sheets. I grab my shirt from the chair and pull it on, wincing as the rough fabric brushes against my fresh wounds. I am not going to sit here and wait for reports. I am going to find out what the fuck is going on myself. And when I find whoever took her? They are going to wish they had never been born.
Chapter 25
ROMAN
I've always believed in karma. I believe that if you do something good, you get a reward, and if you do something bad, you get an equally brutal return.
The men down in this room are about to get a lifetime of bad karma, and I'm serving it up to them on a silver platter.
I push open the heavy steel door. The stale stench of copper and dried blood wafts into my nose—the perfume of death.
The room reveals itself in harsh industrial light — bare concrete walls sweating with moisture, the floor scarred with old stains scrubbed but never erased. Directly ahead of me stretches a long metal table pressed against the far wall, the first thing anyone sees when they enter.
Its surface is crowded with tools laid out with deliberate care — sledgehammers, pliers, clamps, blades, lengths of chain, instruments meant to break bone or peel back skin. Beside it sits a closed surgical cabinet, sterile and silent, its glass doors hiding neatly organized medical equipment waiting its turn.
I glance to the side, noting the four men hanging from shackles bolted to the concrete walls.
The one on the far left notices me immediately. He looks up, glaring through bloodshot eyes.
I grin. The idiot is actually glaring at me. I'm the one who is supposed to be angry. They are the ones who should be bowing their heads in shame. How could they do such a thing to a woman?
We may be Mafia, but we have pride. We have codes. They went ahead and stained the family name, but after today, I won't need to wash off that stain. I'll cut it out.
I stride up to him, gripping his jaw in a vice, forcing our eyes to connect. We stare into each other, silence stretching, and then—
Splat.
A thick glob of spit lands on my cheek.
My gaze doesn't falter. He smirks, satisfied with his little rebellion. But I would be a fool to let a dead man disrespect me once, let alone twice.
"Clench your jaw," I tell him, readying my fist.
Crack.
My knuckles connect with the side of his face. The sound of his jaw fracturing echoes off the walls, and I hear him wheeze as his head snaps to the side.
I smile, cold and devoid of humor, and grab his chin again, forcing his broken face back to my eye level. "Let me make this clear. You are not in the right here. You are here because I am about to send you to the big man upstairs."
He scoffs. With a hoarse, mocking tone, he spits out blood. "Don't act like a fucking saint, Boss. You kidnapped her. We were going to do the exact same thing you were. You just stopped because you found out she was your fucking sister."
His head snaps to the side again as I pummel him in the face, harder this time.
"Shut up," I snarl. "I'm not like you. I don't force unwilling women."
But since we're on that topic, and I want to spill some blood, let's get started.
I turn, facing the other men lined up on the opposite wall. The moment my eyes land on the two guards—fifty percent guilty, one hundred percent incompetent—their chains clatter as they tremble.
"Don't think I forgot about you both," I say smoothly. "No, no, no... I'll get to you. You just need to hold on for a bit while I take care of business."
I move to the basin at the side of the room. I turn on the faucet, running my hands under the icy water, washing away the dirt of the outside world before I begin the holy work of violence. I squat down, opening the surgical cabinet, and pull out a box of black nitrile gloves.
I snap them on.Snap. Snap.
I stalk toward the metal table loaded with every piece of torture equipment imaginable. A dark grin forms on my face. I'm not usually happy or sad doing this job—it's just business. But this time? The rage of not being able to protect a sister I never knew pushes me to the edge.
I will not sit here and let them rot away in a cell. I am their executioner, and I will carry out my killing with the rage of a Viking.
