Prove it.
"What are you talking about, Declan?" Finn interjects, his voice low but sharp with warning. Declan doesn't even look at him.
"Stay out of it, Finn. This is between me and the Rosso girl," he snaps, his voice slicing through the air like a knife. My heart kicks up a beat as Declan closes the space between us. Every step he takes makes my heart sink further. There's something dangerous in his eyes.
"There's an Italian in this building, someone we suspect to be the mole," he begins, his words clear and laced with intent. My stomach knots. Who could it be? And what does it have to do with me?
Declan steps even closer, his gaze locked on mine. "You're going to interrogate him," he says, his voice like steel. "You want my trust, Rosso? Earn it."
I blink, the weight of what he's saying slams into me like a punch to the gut. My stomach churns, nausea curling in my throat. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to budge.
Before I can say anything, Finn steps between us, pushing me gently behind him again. "No way. That is not happening," he says defensively.
"I remember telling you to stay out of this," Declan bites out. "If you keep involving yourself, you leave me no choice but to think you're working with the Italians."
"What?" Finn's voice breaks, disbelief written all over his face. I glance up at him, at the tension tightening in his jaw, the fire in his eyes. He's trying so hard to protect me, but he can't do it forever. If this is a way to earn Declan's trust, even an inch of it, I have to do it.
"I'll do it," I say, my voice quiet but steady. Finn's head jerks towards me like he didn't hear me right. His eyes fill with questioning.
CHAPTER 15
Finn
Gianna can't stomachthe sight of blood. I know that like I know my own heartbeat.
The memory flashes in my mind, her horrified expression when I accidentally sliced my hand peeling a potato back in her college hostel kitchen. She turned green instantly, rushing for a towel, panicking more than I was.
She couldn't even look at the wound. That memory hits me as I face her. How could she agree to Declan's request?
"Good," Declan says, nodding with far too much satisfaction. "I'll send someone to bring you in the next five minutes." Declan moves to the door and before stepping out, he throws a look over his shoulder at me, one of disappointment and simmering anger. But I don't care.
The door closes behind him, and I turn fully to Gianna. She's pale. Her shoulders are trembling slightly, and her eyes dart to the floor like she's trying to find a way to escape. She looks like she's about to pass out.
"You can't do it, Gianna," I say quickly, reaching out to grab her shoulders with both hands, my grip firm but gentle. "Youdon't have to. I'll convince Declan. I don't care what he thinks. I won't let him push you into this."
She looks up at me slowly, and the moment our eyes meet, I feel something crack in my chest. She's terrified. It's written all over her face.
"I have to, Finn," she whispers. "There's no way Declan will trust me if I don't."
I shake my head, jaw tightening. "I trust you," I tell her.
Her lips pull into a thin smile. "I know. But he doesn't. And I can't keep living like this, looking over my shoulder every second, waiting for him to make his final judgment. I have to earn his trust. If this is the only way... then I'll do it."
My heart thuds in my chest, hard and loud. I want to tell her no. I want to lock the door and keep her here, away from all this, but I know Gianna will see this through, and besides, Declan isn't going to back down either.
Declan keeps his word. After five minutes, a guard comes to fetch Gianna. I tag along because I can't bear to imagine her going through it without me by her side. I hate this so much, but I have no choice.
I follow beside her as we step onto the estate floor with the bodyguard trailing before us. I don't quite remember his name, but I've seen him several times. My gaze keeps shifting to Gianna every second. What is going through her head? We enter the small apartment sitting a distance away from the high-rise building and head straight to its basement.
Declan's basement is colder than I remember. The thick metal door shuts behind us with a thud. The hallway leading to it is lit with nothing but a single flickering light bulb swinging from the ceiling. I've been down here more than I can count, but today, it feels different because Gianna is walking beside me.
She says nothing, but I feel her nerves in the silence she carries like a shroud. Her fingers twitch at her side, and everyfew steps she glances at me, searching for something I can't give her right now: comfort.
We stop at the thick black door. Declan stands outside of it, arms crossed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "This is it," Declan says. He swings the door open with a rusty creak. The room is exactly as I remember it. The walls are stone-cold and damp. There's a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows in all directions. William and Jacob, and a few other men are present.
I glance at Jacob's knuckles, bruised and blistered. He definitely did the work on the guy.
A metal drain sits in the center of the concrete floor, already rusted from the amount of blood it has consumed. Chains of all sizes hang on the wall, and in the center of the room is the chair. Wooden, cracked, and stained. The man tied to it already looks half-dead.
