27. Allesandro
F uck! My heart pounds as the three men enter the room, rushing at Cristian. I don’t have much of a chance to protest as one of them splits off, heading towards me, another man joining in the fray soon after.
Where the fuck did he come from?
Growling, I throw punches, and given the grunts of pain, I clearly manage to land some.
I hear Cristian shout as he’s dragged out of the room, and it’s enough of a distraction that I lose any advantage. Shit . Ignacio would kick my ass for that.
My arms are locked behind me, and they click the cuffs on, unlocking the manacle. With an evil grin, I kick out, clipping the goon in the chin. He goes sprawling, and I laugh at the blood on his face.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp jab in my neck, and I curse because I know exactly what that means. I hate being fucking drugged. Fuckers are going to pay for this shit…
I try to concentrate on what’s going on around me, but it’s impossible as I’m dragged down into the fake slumber. It envelops me like an old demon, and I can only hope it’s one that doesn’t leave a damn hangover.
D rip. Drip. Drip.
Groaning, I wake to the sound of fucking dripping. A faucet that doesn’t seem to completely shut off. It pisses me the fuck off. If we’re going to be kidnapped, is it too much to ask that our kidnapper actually possess the means to do it correctly?
My head throbs from the damn medication, and the dripping. At least it’s not Christmas music. Cristian was driving me nuts with that. I doubt Tennant is the only psychopath the Amatos have. After all, who the fuck would listen to Christmas music all year round? Only someone who is completely broken and fucked up would do that.
I’m sitting in a chair with my hands locked down on a table. I try to move my hands, but the metal is unforgiving, and whoever did it made sure I couldn’t slip them through the restraints.
The door bangs open and I glance toward the man entering. He’s…unimpressive. I’d walk past him and wouldn’t give his looks a second thought.
He's got mousy brown hair, but the haircut is too shaggy to be called stylish, and his eyes a dull brown that matches his hair. His facial features aren’t ugly, but there’s nothing compelling about them. Even his body type is just…regular. He’s not thin, he’s not overweight. I almost want to roll my eyes at the normality of this man. And yet, he dared take Cristian and me captive? No wonder he needed help from his goons.
“Enjoying your time here?” The man smirks, and I struggle not to roll my eyes.
“The accommodations could be better, but I must say, it’s nice to have a break from my day-to-day chaos.” I shrug one shoulder, pretending to be unaffected, even if I’m mentally calculating how I’d kill him. It won’t be quick or easy.
He flushes at my statement and tosses a newspaper at me. I quirk an eyebrow at him, deliberately staring at one manacle then the other. Huffing, he situates the newspaper in front of me, so that I can see it more clearly. “You’ve made the headlines. Aren’t you proud?”
I ignore his mocking words and glance down. Criminal Families Under Investigation . Well, fuck. That doesn’t sound good. I skim what I can see of the article, wanting to grimace when I learn about the raids, but refusing to give him the satisfaction.
Shit. My Family must be going crazy. We pay off the LEOs for a fucking reason. None of this should be happening.
I switch my attention back to him, yawning as if the news isn’t disturbing. “Sounds boring.”
Cursing, the man slaps his hands on the metal desk, leaning forward into my personal space. I refuse to lean back, or to give him the satisfaction of thinking he's throwing me off. Fuck that shit.
He hits the desk again with his right hand, and this time, I do roll my eyes. Fucking temper tantrum. Really? I expect better from a kidnapper.
“I’m going to destroy everything you’ve built. Your so-called precious family will pay for your sins. Do you want to know why?”
“Not really. I mean, I’m sure you’ll be doing the whole evil monologue at some point. I’ll pretend to listen, if that’s what you want.”
He pushes off from the table, disgust marring his features. “I am not the villain. I’m the avenging angel. I will rid this city of crime and be celebrated.”
“Wow. You have a complex, don’t you? Avenging angel? Really?” I snort at the ridiculousness. “And you think getting rid of my Family and the Amatos will make the city crime free? You’re delusional. If anything, we keep the crime in check. Nobody messes with our territories. But if you want true lawlessness, proceed at your own risk. Not that you’d ever succeed.”
“Fine. I won’t tell you, if that’s what you want. Instead, I’ll let you ponder while I make you suffer.” He turns toward the door, knocking on it. At the signal, two more men enter, but these ones are wearing masks. Pussies. Both of them. If you’re going to be part of criminal activity, fucking own it.
The door doesn’t close, and the sound of screaming echoes down the hallway. The man grins evilly at me. “Hear that? That’s your buddy. Sounds like he’s enjoying what you’ll be getting.”
I bark out a laugh. “Are you fucking for real? That’s not Cristian. Or if it is, it’s playing on a loop. Nothing you can do would cause that continuous screaming. Hell, you could be tearing him apart piece by piece and he wouldn’t give you that. You don’t have a fucking clue the games he plays and his strength.”
His face flushes an even deeper red than before. It verges on purple, and his hands curl into tight fists. “You think you’ll be any different?”
I notice he sidesteps my response, and this time I snort. “I’m sure. But hey, if you want to test our strength, why don’t you join me here? We can both have fun, and we’ll see which one of us screams the most.”
The man whispers something to one of the goons before whirling out of the room, slamming the door shut. The goon laughs darkly, coating the room in tension. Silence is always more effective than being talked at continuously. I have a feeling this shit isn’t going to be that much fun.
The goon pulls out a knife, and I almost grimace. I’m not like Cristian, blood play really isn't my kink. But, whatever. They’re not going to get the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
I watch him warily and almost sigh in resignation when he goes straight for my hand. I’m going to lose a finger, I know it. And Lio will be pissed. Motherfucker better hope I don’t get a knife when I leave, because he’ll lose way more than a finger. Maybe cutting off their dicks would be good. Then I can make them choke on them.
I grit my teeth, refusing to scream when he brings the knife down on my right pointer finger. Mother. Fucker. I don’t glance down, keeping my eyes on the goon who seems disappointed by my lack of reaction. He growls and goes for another, but the other goon stops the man’s arm as it moves in a downward arc.
For a moment, I think I’m escaping from more, but then the second goon brings out a knife of his own. Fuck, leave my hands alone. I have punishments to dole out, and would prefer to keep my fucking fingers.
I glare at the goon, almost daring him to continue. When he grins at me, I narrow my eyes. There’s something familiar about him, even through the mask.
Cocking my head slightly, I try to think where I recognize him from. I don’t get much of a chance to think about it before the man rips my dress shirt to shreds, not being careful about nicking my skin. That’s a fucking expensive shirt, worth far more than him, I imagine.
I’m disgusted by their uncouthness. I wrinkle my nose at them, ignoring the throbbing in what’s left of my finger. Hopefully, they'll at least stop the bleeding soon. Fuckers are way too uneducated about torture. Sloppy.
I’m not sure how long it lasts, as they take turns slicing at my skin, from long slices to nicks. I can’t find a pattern, so I’m stuck on the edge of waiting. It’s a dangerous dance.
They’re trying to rip a scream from me, and I’m trying to refuse. One of us will win out. I can only hope they tire first, as they’re showing signs of exhaustion from the constant movement around me.
“Fuck it,” one of the goons mutters from behind me, and red hot agony spears through my shoulder. I finally scream and their laughter fills the room.
I fight to stay upright, but between the finger wound, the slicing, and now the fucking stabbing, the room begins to spin. Fuck . I hope Cristian held on for longer.
I start to slip into inky darkness, slumping forward. I’m down, but not out. I shake my head, trying to clear my vision, but when the knife is yanked out, I can’t hold it back anymore, and the world goes dark.