The room sat in excruciating silence for long seconds before Matteo nodded and stood. “I’ll take this to my bossand let you know his decision.” He exited the basement, followed by his two soldiers, and the room seemed to fill with fresh oxygen.
“Holy shit, Enzo, you know how to make an entrance,” came the Moretti underboss, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Postures relaxed, and the room filled with the shuffling of sound.
“Trust me, this isn’t how I’d have preferred to show back up. If I’d have known this would happen, I never would have taken a back seat.” His tone was morose, and the room got quiet again.
Enzo visited with the remaining underbosses, renewing his connections and assuring them things were going to change in the Lucciano family. Unable to sit still any longer, I started to make my way back upstairs when Enzo called out to me.
“Luca, wait for me outside.” His tone was casual, but the unknown reason for his request coiled my already tense muscles even further.
I waited under the old red awning out front as each of the men slowly dispersed. Eventually, Enzo and his brother stepped outside, Enzo placing a grateful hand on his brother’s back. They exchanged a few quiet words before parting ways, and Enzo turned his hard gaze my direction.
“I want you to promise me you won’t go after her.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected, but that hadn’t been it.
Enzo strolled over, hands in his pockets, his face a map of worry lines that hadn’t been visible at our first encounter.
“What am I supposed to do—go home and watch television? I can’t sit by while she’s missing.” No fucking way. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her while I was sipping a beer, pretending everything was peachy.
“You don’t think I want to do the same damn thing?” he spat back, renewed spark giving heat to his words. “That’s my daughter out there, in the hands of God knows who. However, there are protocols that must be followed. We go in with guns blazing, nothing good will come of it. You kill someone getting her back, only to end up with a price on your head, isn’t going to help. If anything can be done to get her back, Matteo will make it happen. He knows how huge it would be for me to owe him. The only thing we can do now is wait.”
He was right, and I fucking hated it.
I whirled and kicked one of the small metal dinette chairs on the sidewalk patio, sending the thing clattering onto its side. Pain blossomed in my foot but did little to ease the suffocating frustration sitting like a heavy boulder on my chest.
“Get it out—go to the gym or do whatever you need to but keep your nose out of trouble. I’ll call you when I hear something.”
I offered him a nod and stomped back to my car, unable to unclench my teeth long enough to say a word in response. I had no idea what I’d planned on doing to look for her, but having the option taken from me made me feel even more helpless.
I sat in my car, boxed in by the deafening silence. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so fucking powerless. What was I supposed to do—go home and pretend Alessia wasn’t out there in trouble? I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. The only thing that would remotely help was the gym, so I started the car and drove like an asshole to the one place where I could get out the rage eating me alive.
CHAPTER 24
ALESSIA
I wasn’tsure how long he worked on me.
The minutes when I was under his knife felt like hours, and the time between sessions seemed like mere seconds. He had drawn out removing my clothes, taking pleasure in my fear, milking every ounce of terror from my quivering body without even harming me.
Only after I was naked before him did Rico begin his real work. He explained that back in his homeland, he was called ‘the Surgeon’ for his skill with a knife. His technique was something akin to the Chinese death by a thousand cuts. Slowly and methodically, he sliced hisknife across my delicate flesh countless times, turning me inside out, one cut at a time.
My arms. My stomach. My legs.
Cut after excruciating cut, I bled and silently wept.
He was precise and meticulous, moving at a torturously slow pace. No single cut was deep enough to endanger me nor give me substantial enough pain to allow me the mercy of passing out. I was forced to lie there awake, listening to him hum as he mutilated my body.
I was glad I couldn’t see his work. The feel of warm blood dripping down my cool skin was nauseating enough. How long could someone survive this brand of depraved torture? How much blood could a body lose before the organs gave up and shut down? I didn’t want to die. I was utterly terrified, and there was no escape from the fear.
The pain was intense, but it was the fear that was crippling.
I prayed in my head, over and over, that I would live to see my family again.
I swore vengeance if I could get free.
I cursed Sal and Rico a thousand awful deaths and struggled with blame and guilt.
The one thing I didn’t do was beg to die.
