Page 189 of Bleed with Me

“Happens a lot when it comes to me.” He winked at me, taking my hand. I scoffed, ignoring another of his remarks, and he went back to texting Malin.

Fifteen minutes later, the car stopped in front of an old building in the docks, and I got out, inhaling a salty smell of ocean mixed with dirt. The place looked abandoned at first sight, but when I looked closer, I noticed cameras in strategic positions and two black SUVs parked across the street, watching the perimeter.

I followed Zyon and Dorian inside through the metal door. The warehouse reeked of old oil and damp concrete. Dust coated the abandoned crates stacked along the walls, while dirty puddles reflected the weak fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Rusted chains hung from exposed beams, and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped steadily onto the cracked floor.

“You put my dad here?” I asked Dorian, who shrugged and opened another door for me. I rolled my eyes, pushing down the irritation that bubbled in my stomach.

The hallway stretched ahead of me, long and narrow, with bare concrete walls and weak lights buzzing overhead. Only one cell sat at the very end, its heavy metal door standing open. My father sat inside on a steel chair, his wrists chained to the armrests, dried blood staining his clothes and his curly hair stuck to his forehead. He looked exhausted and filthy, but not beaten. They hadn’t touched him, and the gunshot wound in his arm was neatly bandaged.

“Dad!” I hurried to him, meeting his bloodshot eyes. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, smiling weakly, but my chest burned with anger.

“Is this really necessary?” I pointed at the chains, but neither Dorian nor Zyon moved to unlock them.

“It’s fine, Nina,” Dad exhaled heavily. “Not my first time.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Let’s move to the matter at hand,” Zyon interrupted me, ignoring my glare. “What did Giovanni do, and what does it have to do with Carliles?”

Dad gulped, staring at Zyon, who towered over him in obvious fear. My father survived the mafia his whole life with diplomacy and manipulation instead of bullets, but neither would help him here. His only chance was to tell the truth. Otherwise, I worried not even my relationship with Dorian could save him.

“First,” Dad said after a pause, his voice trembling slightly, but he held Zyon’s stare. “What’s in it for me?”

Zyon lifted a brow, and Dorian chuckled. I slapped his arm, but he just grinned harder as if demanding something in return was the best joke ever.

“You do understand that without us,” Zyon pointed between Dorian and himself, “your daughter is completely fucked, right?”

“You do understand,” Dad mirrored Zyon’s tone, “that my daughter’s marriage to your brother dragged you into a war, right?” He sat up straighter, smirking. “And you don’t even know with whom.”

The silence stretched in the small room while Zyon and Dorian stared my father down.

“Can’t we just deal with it like adults?” I asked when the tension became unbearable, and no one wanted to give up an inch. “We’re in the same boat here.”

“Are we?” Dorian lifted a challenging brow. “He wanted you to marry a guy who beat you.”

“Beat you?” Dad looked at me, flabbergasted. “You didn’t make it up to escape the marriage?”

“Oh, Daaaad,” I groaned, hiding my face behind my palms. But it was a mistake because I didn’t manage to stop Dorian from breaking his nose. A disgusting cracking sound filled the room, followed by a yelp in pain. I stared in shock at my husband, who shook his bloody hand off as Zyon dragged him away.

“I’ll fucking kill the bastard,” Dorian hollered, kicking the metal door furiously. “You sold your daughter, you motherfucker!”

“Dorian, please.” I touched his shoulder, but he jolted away.

“Stop fucking protecting him already! Don’t you see what he’s doing?” He cupped my face, his intense gaze boring into me. “You’re just a bargaining chip, nothing more.”

Pressure built behind my eyes, but I still couldn’t let them kill him.

“He’s my father,” I whispered. “And there’s a reason behind all of this.”

Dorian let go of my face with a heavy exhale and turned his back on me.

“Speak, Lorenzo,” Zyon commanded, his voice slicing through the tension. “Or I’ll let my brother finish you off. I’m done playing nice.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line, stopping myself from intervening. Maybe I could persuade my dad to tell me the truth, but what if he tried to manipulate me again? I couldn’t just let him decide my fate because I cared for him.

“If you kill me,” Dad smiled, showing off his bloodied teeth, “you won’t know—”