Pathetic.
I drop the pliers and wipe my hands on my jeans, turning to face Stephan. “He’s not talking.”
Stephan shrugs, his eyes cold and calculating. “Then we’ll just have to try something else. I have a few ideas.”
I nod, a cruel smile spreading across my face. “Do what you have to do. I want answers, and I want them now.”
As Stephan gets to work, I let my mind wander back to the events that led me here. My father, once a powerful and fearedMafia boss, reduced to a shell of his former self after the death of Jake. He pushed me away further, burying himself in booze and self-pity, leaving me to fend for myself.
Fucking cock coward.
But I didn’t let it break me. I turned my pain into strength, my anger into power. Thinking of the day I can finally slice off the head of those fucking Ravens.
I trained with Stephan day and night, honing my skills until I became the deadliest weapon in the Caldwell arsenal.
And now, here I am, taking out the trash and proving my worth to the family. My father may have given up on me, but I’ll be damned if I let anyone else do the same.
I’m brought back to the present by the sound of Lionel’s renewed screams. Stephan has moved on to more… creative methods of persuasion.
“Ready to talk yet, Lionel?” I ask, my voice cold and unfeeling.
But Lionel just whimpers, his body convulsing in agony. I sigh, shaking my head in disappointment.
Suddenly, the old metal door creaks open without a knock. I glance up, my eyes narrowing as I see Mitch limping into the room.
He looks scary as hell, his face drawn and his eyes sunken—like death warmed over. Those five bullet holes had shredded him. Sometimes, I can’t shake the feeling that Mitch still blames himself for what happened to my brother.
Mitch’s gaze flickers over the scene before him, taking in Lionel’s broken, bleeding form and the various instruments of torture scattered around. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I think I see a flash of sadness there.
But I quickly look away, not wanting to see the pity or disappointment that surely lies beneath. I don’t need anyone’s fucking sympathy, least of all his.
Mitch clears his throat, holding out a phone. “It’s your father,” he says gruffly. “Wants to talk to you.”
I roll my eyes and reach out for the phone. “Hello.”
The second I place the phone on my ear, Dad’s voice blasts through, no hello. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I grip the phone tightly, my knuckles turning white as I try to keep my temper in check, realizing that, just like always, he will tell me that I shouldn’t have done anything without his permission. Every time I tried to impress him, he always found one complaint or another. I’m tired of trying to prove to him that I can be of good use.
“I’m not gonna just sit on my ass and watch our business get fucked over, Dad. Someone had to step up and handle this shit!” I yell into the phone.
“Watch your tone, Clara.”
“Or what?” I snap back, my patience wearing thin. “You’ll ground me? Take away my allowance? I’m not a fucking child anymore, Dad.”
“You’re sure as hell acting like one,” he growls. “Running off half-cocked, stirring up trouble. You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” I seethe. “I’m trying to save our goddamn business while you sit on your ass and drown yourself in whiskey.”
“Enough!” Dad roars, his voice so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “Stephan can clean things up. I want you back home where you belong. You’re 24 years old, Clara. It’s time for you to start thinking about settling down, getting married. I don’t want you out there trying to parade yourself as something you’re not.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Married? Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not getting married to any of those pompous assholes you keep trying to set me up with.”
“You’re of marriageable age,” Dad insists. “It’s time for you to start taking your future seriously.”
“Iamtaking my future seriously,” I argue. “I’m supposed to handle the business, just like Jake was going to before—”
I cut myself off, my heart jerking painfully at the mention of my brother.
