Chapter Twenty-Six
Seraphina
It had been a few days since my conversation with Sergio in the bedroom I’d been staying in at the Puglisi estate.
I still couldn’t leave because they had concerns about the Drakos Syndicate.
It shocked me that Sergio had told me that much, but I wanted to know if Dorian was still alive.
All Sergio would say was that he wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.
What the hell did that even mean?
I wanted to know more which was why I was standing outside Lorenzo’s office. If Sergio wouldn’t tell me what the hell was going on, I’d go over his head.
I shifted from foot to foot as I knocked on the large oak door. I’d never really spoken with Lorenzo so I was nervous.
“Come in!” Lorenzo yelled, his voice filtering through the thick wood.
When I opened it, he sat behind a large oak desk. He looked up while on his phone with his brow furrowed before he motioned me in. I closed the door behind me, my shoes sinking into the large Persian rug that probably cost more than anything I’d ever walked on.
He held up his finger, and I nodded, making my way to his massive desk flanked by leather armchairs with brass nail head trim.
As he finished his phone call, I looked around the space.
I’d never stepped foot inside the Puglisi estate when I dated Sergio because his father was a bastard and he didn’t like me or my sister.
According to him we were the reasons his sons weren’t doing enough for the Family. We were distractions.
This room showed the power and money of the Puglisi family. The family that I was a part of. It didn’t matter if I was with Sergio. My sister and nephew were connected to them so that meant I was too.
The smell of old paper, cigar smoke, and leather hit my nose.
The high ornate ceilings made the room seem larger than it was.
A wrought-iron chandelier hung overhead, and the dark mahogany built-in bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling full of books lined one wall.
And tall arched windows that reached from the floors to the ceiling lined the wall behind Lorenzo.
It was really impressive.
“What can I help you with, Seraphina?” Lorenzo asked once he ended his call. “Is there a problem?”
I faced him and smiled as he placed the cell phone down on top of his desk. “I want to know what’s going on.”
He leaned back in the chair. “And why did you come to me?”
“Because Sergio is keeping what’s happening from me. I understand the moral code of the family business and all that, but this has to do with me. I have a right to know what the hell is going on.”
He sighed. “He’s trying to protect you because he loves you.”
“I understand that Lorenzo, but this is my life. Whether anyone agrees with it, Dorian is still my husband and he put me through hell. I deserve to know everything.”
“Are you sure?” He steepled his hands. “Because Seraphina, this is what the Puglisi’s do, including Sergio. Are you sure you really want to know?”
A chill ran down my spine, but I didn’t have any doubt I needed to know. Being in the dark wasn’t an option for me anymore. This was my life, and I wanted to have some control over it.
“Yes.”
He stood, then walked from around his desk. “Then come with me.”
***
“Where are we?”
We stood at a door that wasn’t too far from the study at the end of a long hallway. Lorenzo didn’t speak, he just pressed his thumb to the black box attached to the wall next to the door.
“Fingerprint scanner?” I asked in disbelief.
“You can never be too careful.” A soft click sounded. His hand hovered over the doorknob, then he looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
He turned the doorknob, pushed the door open, then we descended downstairs. Each time he hit a step it lit up. Other than the light illuminating from the steps, it was total darkness.
I balanced myself with my palm against the wall, my hand trailing against its smooth surface. When we reached a landing, I thought we were wherever he was leading me to, only to follow him deeper.
“Almost there,” he said.
It was a good thing because my claustrophobia was creeping in. The air was still cool, but it felt thick. Maybe from anticipation but it was getting harder for me to breathe. Then I heard it. The faint noise of voices. Thumps. And what sounded like groans and moans.
Lorenzo stepped off the last step, and I followed him through a small corridor, until he reached another door. Once again, he pressed his thumb against a black box, then a soft click followed.
He stopped and looked at me. “What you see is necessary.” His voice was calm and emotionless. “Do not interfere.”
“Okay.”
He pressed the button on the black box, and the door creaked open before he pushed it open all the way. When we stepped inside, the sounds grew louder. The smell of urine, vomit, and blood saturated the air causing me to gag.
“I didn’t think to warn you about the smell,” Lorenzo mumbled.
The walls were upholstered in deep gray, tufted pads.
The floor was finished concrete just like you’d find in a basement.
And a faint hum vibrated through the space maybe from the ventilation.
When we rounded a corner, I stopped dead in my tracks.
My breath caught in my throat as my eyes locked onto Dorian and Sergio.
Dorian hung from the ceiling by thick iron chains looped around his wrists, his body suspended and swaying.
His nude body was cover in blood, and bruises.
Some fresh, some faded into sickly yellows and greens.
Cuts traced his ribs, his thighs, his collarbone, and his chest. His head lolled forward, and his hair was matted to his face.
A single spotlight above him cast a harsh circle of light, isolating him in the center of the room like an exhibit. Around the edges, I noticed hooks embedded in the walls, a table with surgical instruments laid out in perfect order, and a drain in the center of the floor.
This wasn’t just a regular room. It was a place designed for pain. A place to torture.
Sergio was dressed in all black. Black T-shirt, black pants, and black boots. I don’t remember the last time I saw him dressed like this.
He pounded on Dorian, like he was one of those heavy punching bags.
With every punch, Dorian’s body swayed, and Sergio moved then punched with each movement of his body.
For a minute I watched, mesmerized at how fluid Sergio’s movements were, and how powerful his punches sounded.
But then my gasp caught not only Dorian’s attention but Sergio’s.
Nothing but pure rage covered Sergio’s face when he saw me. “What the hell are you doing here!” Sergio shouted, but I couldn’t respond as my eyes stayed fixed on the brutalized body of Dorian Drakos, my husband, who was now smiling.
At me.
“Nice for you to show up, my love,” Dorian said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”