Taking Over the Dark (High Stakes Syndicate #2)

Chapter 6

SIX

MARCELLO

“If I let you go and you try some stupid shit, I will tranq your ass.” I watch as the confusion and disbelief crosses Zamir’s face, but he nods in agreement. Vin sadistically chuckles, knowing I’ve been waiting to use my tranq gun—and I’m sure he wants to watch me use it just as bad. He unties him, and Zamir grabs his phone and starts scrolling like his life depends on it.

I mean… it just might.

? * Once he finds what he’s looking for, he starts to walk toward me. After watching the footage from the stadium, I know it wasn’t him, but it still doesn’t give me the answers I need for the text messages Noah found sent to Nash’s phone. He got access to Nash and Ellie’s phones to see if there was anything on there that could tell us where they were, but the only thing he found was the text thread with Zamir on Nash’s. He had texted Nash, saying he was at home grabbing something and on his way back at the exact time the two men were snappin’ necks.

Zamir flips his phone around, handing it to me. I read the message on the screen from his cousin and see that it was sent when Z and Nash were playing.

Alex

Arben just located our dad’s in Vegas. I can’t hold them back anymore. I think they’re looking for their missing shipment.

“Where is Alex right now?” I ask immediately.

“Still back in Chicago, I believe.”

“Yeah, he is. I have a tracker on him and his little boy-toy hacker.” Noah wears a sly smile as he types away, acting like he didn’t say some wild shit that would normally be expected out of my mouth. It explains why he didn’t blink an eye when I told him about my obsession with Ellie and his willingness to help. He’s a nosey little bastard, too, and clearly has no boundaries either. I knew I liked him.

“What? He got into my shit because big man over there said to let them in. I’ll never know why I listened… but Arben is a hard man to get any information on. So I did it my way,” Noah says on shrug as he continues typing away.

I hand Zamir’s phone back and open the folder Noah handed me when we got here. It’s everything that happened tonight detailed out to a T. I skim over the information I’ve already been briefed on, and I stop when I spot the screenshots of Zamir’s phone. Noah has noted that he tracked the phone being cloned, and a cell tower in Chicago was pinged for sending those texts earlier. That hacker of theirs is looking worse and worse by the minute. Which also leads me to not trust Alex either.

Fuck, I’m still iffy about Zamir.

And I know for a fact that whoever is behind this, planned for this. For me to doubt Zamir.

I’m up, slamming the folder on Noah’s desk. He doesn’t even flinch, being so used to my shit. I grit out, “This doesn’t help me find my Ragazza Dolce. ”

Zamir places his hand on my shoulder, and I try my hardest not to lean into his touch. I’ve got to go tear some shit up before I blow. Zamir whispers, “Come on, let Noah work. He’ll find them.” He slides his hand down my suit jacket sleeve, and like my body already knows his touch, goosebumps litter my arm.

Fuck this isn’t going to be good.

Zamir grabs my wrist and starts pulling me out of the office and toward one of the torture rooms, leaving Noah and Vin to work.

As he opens the door to his choice, I tease, “I should’ve known you’d want to return here.” My eyes follow him as he heads over and flips the switch to heat the brands that are in here. “What do you think you’re doing, Zamir?”

“I will prove my loyalty to you and the Barone family name,” he answers almost robotically.

I don’t know what he has planned, but I watch him methodically set everything up on the table that one would need to perform a branding. Leaning up against the glass that covers the front of the room, my eyes follow him as the muscles in his arms bunch as he picks stuff up. How perfect his deep-brown natural curls are on the top of his head. The tattoos littering his body make me want to book some of my own sessions with Mack. And that hoop nose ring… it finishes off his looks like a cherry on top.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I find the number I have been holding off on calling. I didn’t want to call for help, but I truly don’t know who we can trust at this moment, and it’s already been a couple of hours since they’ve been gone. The longer we wait, the worse their health could be getting or so much worse… they could be hurting them in unspeakable ways.

“Dario Ramos.”

“Marcello Barone, who do I need to thank for speaking to you this evening?” The Spanish accent has a pang of hurt stabbing right into my heart.

I miss Nash already…

Taking far too long to compose myself, I finally get the words out, “We may need some help up here…” I would rather be repeatedly stabbed than ask for help, but when it comes to Ellie, I’m not willing to risk leaving this up to my team only. I need to know I can rely on someone if needed, and I’m certain the Albanians are not working with the head of the Mexican Cartel down in Texas.

The look of concern on Zamir’s face when I said we needed help, is one I never want to see. “Fill me in, Marcello.”

“I wanted to inform you of what’s happened so if I call again, it’s not out of left field. Ellie, my girlfriend…” Girlfriend feels like an insignificant word to call what we have, but I don’t want to hold Dario up, so I continue, “She was taken tonight, along with Nash Hayden, the Rebels star quarterback.”

“Fuck!” I wasn’t expecting that strong of a reaction out of him. “Sorry… it’s just… I’m in some big relationship, and one of them is Willow Hayden.”

“Nash’s sister?” I question him, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. She doesn’t know yet, does she?”

“I haven’t told anyone in his family yet, and the staff or the team are not aware either. So no, I doubt she knows.”

“I’ll let her know, and you call me immediately if you need us up there.”

“Thank you, Ramos.” He ends the call before I can fully get my words out. I pocket my phone, and I can tell Zamir wants to ask me something.

“Spit it out.”

“What about Nash’s sister?”

“Are you in a position to ask questions right now, Prifti?”

“No, but I know Nash would want her safe. Is she at least safe?” The concern lacing his voice is convincing enough to give him an answer.

“Yes, she’s safe…” His shoulders sag in relief, so I give him a little more. “She’s tied into the cartel somehow in Texas. But I know for a fact she’s safe with them.” I watch as he visibly relaxes and then immediately gets back to the branding materials.

“I want to earn your trust and respect back, Marcello. With everything in me, I had nothing to do with tonight. To show that, I want you to brand me with your family crest.”

I question him, “And what about your family?”

“I’ve been done with them for a long time, but all of this has truly opened my eyes. I don’t trust them and never want to be associated with them ever again.” It sounds like he’s been thinking about this for a lot longer than just today.

“I hope you know you’re selling your soul to the Devil with this little show you’re putting on, Prifti.” I don’t know who he’s trying to convince with this, but having my brand on his body… I will own him from here on out.

And why does my heart rate speed up at the thought of that? The ownership, that’s why.

? * “Over my heart.” He pulls his shirt over his head and rubs an alcohol pad over the area to clean it off. One thing with brands is that you do not want them getting infected. “Each of you owns a section of my heart, and I’m over fighting it. I know Ellie is your world, Marcello, but they’re both the axis I spin around. And I hate to break it to you, but you’re also becoming very important to me. I don’t want any of you ever questioning my loyalty or intentions with you all.” The sincere tone he’s speaking in, all while still prepping everything, shows me he really means what he’s saying. Everything he’s expressing is flowing off the tongue with complete sincerity. There’s no way he’s coming up with lies this easily.

But truly, you never know someone…

“Are you ready, Zamir?” I lock my eyes on his to make sure he truly wants this.

Those green pools of his drift over to the red glowing brand, and he stares at it for a beat. Finally answering me, he says, “Mark me. Make me yours. All of yours.”

Fuck… why did my cock just twitch?

Grabbing the branding iron, I appreciate the heavy metal with the glowing red emblem, and at this moment, it feels different. Normally I bask in the weight of the brand and the pain I know I’m about to be inflicting on my normal piece of shit victims.

But Zamir isn’t a piece of shit.

He’s the complete opposite. He knew his father was, and still is, wrapped up in bad shit, so he separated himself from his own blood and made something of his name outside of that blood. And when it’s from a family with no morals, that’ll usually get you silenced one way or another.

“Do I need to tie you down? I don’t want my brand being fucked up on this pretty skin of yours.”

“Careful, Cello… you didn’t like my reaction to you earlier. You’ll be quick to learn I like pain and can handle it. That is, unless you want to see me tied up.” He gives me a sly smile, and I have to beg my cock not to react.

“What you need is a goddamn muzzle,” I mumble as I approach him. He backs up until his back hits the wall. I have the brand down by my feet, careful not to let it touch the ground or anywhere on Zamir. I lean into the side of his face, growling, “I didn’t say I didn’t like your reaction. It just wasn’t the time for it.” With my free hand, I wrap my hand around his throat, putting pressure on each side, blocking the much-needed blood flow. He’s watching my face, so I tease him, “The desperate slut likes his oxygen robbed from him, doesn’t he?”

Tilting my head to the side to look down, I spot the erection in his joggers, clear as day. It’s mirroring mine. Our cocks are practically begging to rub up against one another… but now is not the time. I drag my hand from his neck down his chest, then to his stomach. He sucks in a quick breath when I don’t stop and move past his waistline, gripping his heavy cock and balls in my hand. I grit out, “You ready?”

He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, and I take a step back, pulling the glowing brand up in front of us. That sobers him up real quick. He nods again, places his hands down by his sides, then murmurs, “Do it.”

I line up the brand right over his left peck, ensuring it’s straight, then begin counting down, “Three, two, one…” Pressing the brand into his skin, I hold it there for the second it needs before pulling it away. He didn’t even make the smallest whimper. No one I’ve ever branded has taken it that well.

“Fuck! That hurts!”

“You didn’t even flinch when the brand was on you?”

“That would’ve fucked it up… and it’s more painful now. The adrenaline that was coursing through me before it happened, that keeps the pain receptors at bay.” He’s not wrong there, but I’m still staring at him, bewildered.

* ? Divide - The Plot in You

* ? DEMON TIME - Chase Atlantic