Bastard. What is this? A warning? A threat?
I meet his gaze without blinking. The tension between us thickens, but I won’t look away.
I know he has the power to kill me.
But I’m no cub.
The only thing I have left is my pride, and I’ll burn before I let him take that from me.
He studies my features, and the defiance written all over my face for a long moment before turning away to eye the city below once more.
“I raised you like my own son,” he says quietly.
“How can you even say that?” I burst out. “How dare you? You took my father’s title, his home, his power, and even his wife.My motheris your wife!”
He whips around, fury back in his voice. “I married Carmenfor you! I wanted to protect you, to give you the life of a Bruni. I raised you like my own flesh and blood!”
My restraint shatters.
“You gave my fiancée to your bastard son!” I roar. “The woman who was promised to me beforeshe even took her first breath! You handed her over to the son of a whore, a slave who was nothing more than a cheap slut!”
Before I can blink, his hand moves like lightning. He pulls his gun from the leather holster beneath his arm and presses the cold barrel firmly against my forehead.
I take a slow, deep breath, lifting my hands in a mock gesture of surrender, a smirk curling my lips.
“Go on, Uncle,” I say, my voice low and taunting. “Finish it. Do what you should’ve done years ago. Kill your brother’s cub. Erase the last trace of his blood and complete your purge.”
“Goddamn you,” he growls through gritted teeth, lowering the gun.
Without another word, he strides past me toward the door. But before grabbing the handle, he halts, and shoots me a look over his shoulder.
“Dinner at the estate tonight. Bring a gift for your cousin’s wife. Nine sharp. Don’t be late.” His voice leaves no room for argument.
Wasting no time on a reply, he yanks the door open and leaves.
***
The basement reeks—damp, blood, shit, piss, rot. Enough to turn your stomach. Adding to the misery are the guttural screams of the man hanging upside down from the ceiling, his cries ricocheting off the grimy walls.
I glance down at the report in my hand. The bastard’s been making a fortune from underground boxing matches. I lift my eyes to the man briefly. His body is a mangled mess, his skin split and torn from the lashes I’ve already delivered, and his face is beyond recognition.
What the fuck do these idiots think? Running bets on my turf? Think I won’t find them? Won’t drag them here and break every bone? Won’t slit their throats and dump the bodies?
Another scream and my patience runs out. I draw my pistol and fire a single shot straight into his skull. Then I let the report slip from my fingers, dropping it onto the blood-soaked floor. Rising from my chair, I move toward the staircase with unhurried steps.
Rafael adjusts his jacket, barking orders for the cleanup before falling into step behind me.
“Someone’s waiting in your office.”
“Who?”
“Someone with info that’ll make your day.”
There’s a hint of excitement in his voice that grabs my attention. I push open the basement door, breathe in air that doesn’t reek of shit, and turn to him.
“What kind of information?”
“The kind that could be very useful to you down the line.”
