Chapter 25 - Antonio
“Fuck,” I mutter, blinking my eyes open as the pain in my head reminds me that getting knocked out due to being lippy was maybe not the best option. It doesn’t help that there’s a fucking spotlight shining down on me. Concussions fucking suck.
“Ah, the Ghost is finally awake. It was certainly easy enough to catch you.” Cecily’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard.
Ugh. No. Nope. Fuck this. Jude is going to kill me.
“He doesn’t seem like much.”
I roll my eyes, triggering more pain, but fuck, it’s bad enough that I'm being insulted by the bitch, do I need to be insulted by her henchman too?
Rope digs into my skin, as my hands are pulled behind me and my feet are tied to the chair…
which, given the lack of movement, must be cemented to the damn floor. Fuck.
“You’re fucking fools for taking me,” I retort, unable to keep my mouth shut.
“Oh, look at that. He does talk.” Cecily comes closer, but she’s still in the shadows, so I can’t make out her features well. I hope to fuck the trackers are active, and they didn’t find them while I was out.
“So, where’s Lio and Roman?” I ask, trying to go for nonchalant, but I know the stress bleeds through. I desperately want confirmation that they’re alright.
Cecily laughs, and her henchmen join in, my stomach turning as the reasons why run through my head.
“You don’t need to worry about them. Perhaps, you should worry about yourself.
After all, you were given up. You must not be that important anymore, Ghost. Maybe because you’re so disfigured?
Or because Allesandro isn’t there to step in anymore… ”
My heart thumps hard. An insider…fuck, that would make sense.
But the only person who knew was Leandro.
That wouldn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t hurt Lio or Roman.
But fuck, if he did…Lio will be devastated, especially since the Amatos don’t give second chances. Unlike…fuck. No, I will not go there.
“If there’s someone betraying the Families, they won’t live long. But I guarantee, whatever you’re planning isn’t going to work. You don’t know shit about loyalty.”
“Loyalty,” she scoffs. “As if you, or anyone you associate with, knows what that word means. And we’re committed to getting the job done. We’re not soft. Although, kudos for taking out the old guard. Didn’t think you had it in you. Especially with how much Allesandro paid for you.”
My head snaps back, making the pounding worse, as I growl, “What the fuck do you mean?”
“You think we didn’t do our homework? It appears we know more about you than even you do.
” She doesn’t bother to contain her amusement, nor do the henchmen who are snickering.
With a sigh, as if put out, she says, “Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you.
It’s not like you’re going to live through this anyway.
You were up for auction as a whore… What did you do?
Piss off your pimp? But Allesandro found out and stepped in, paying a ridiculous amount of money, in my opinion.
Nobody’s ass could be worth that much, and technically, your pimp should have been reporting to him anyway, since you were a common street whore.
And then, to eventually elevate you to management…
weak. Always so damn weak. He should have let the fucking Columbians take you.
He would have had a major cut of the proceeds… ”
My body goes cold. I remember the Columbians from my days as a street whore, specifically one of them who was interested. Since I prefer not to be missing limbs—and alive—I was glad to get the fuck out before facing him. If Allesandro really prevented that…
“How the fuck would you even know that?” I sneer, pushing the panic down.
Tsking, she says pityingly, “This is why you’ll lose.
You don’t do your homework. We have files—extensive files—on each one of you.
Hell, when we looked through the files, it was almost as if your mighty Il Padrone was some kind of fucking savior, except in the case of Lio…
which is what makes him so much fun to play with. ”
“What the fuck have you done to him, bitch?” I growl, ignoring the rest of it. I can’t think about it right now.
She turns away from me, and two men with her step into the light, and both are fucking ugly as hell. I glare at them, but it doesn’t have any impact, especially when one pulls out a knife and waves it in front of my face.
“From what we hear, you used to be the pretty one. You don’t look all that pretty anymore,” he rumbles, excitement lighting up his eyes and turning my stomach. “But let’s make sure nobody will make the mistake of thinking you’re pretty ever again.”
I bite back a scream when the knife presses against my cheek, in a spot that doesn’t already have a fucking scar, and as it digs in, I curse them mentally. Grunting at my lack of response, he pulls the knife out and puts it to my forehead. My breath stutters as he stares down at me.
“He’s a whore, right? Let’s mark him so everyone knows it,” the other man says, as he also takes out a knife.
With a grunt of agreement, the henchman moves his knife further over on my forehead.
I know exactly what they plan on doing, and my stomach turns.
There’s no way in hell Jude will ever want me again…
I manage to make it through the W, H, and O, before I scream.
The man on the left digs his letters in so violently that I’m surprised he doesn’t embed the damn knife.
I’m not sure if it’s from the pain, the blood dripping in my eyes, or fuck, the knowledge I’m being branded as something I thought I’d left a long time ago that pushes the memories of that time to the forefront.
Hell, I worked my way up—or I thought I did.
Fuck. If Allesandro interfered…hell. Was he my savior or my captor? And if he was my savior, what the fuck happened? Is Marcus right? My stomach churns as the R is finished and tears escape, mixing with the blood. Everything goes dizzy, and I struggle to breathe.
They finish the E and step back, exchanging a high five. I’m panting and slumped against the chair, but fury ignites in me, and while I’m unable to catch my breath enough to speak, I spit at them instead. It doesn’t reach them, but their yells of outrage bring joy to my soul.
At least, until the man on the right punches me in the face.
Fuck. Not to be outdone, the other man pulls his arm back, and there’s shit all I can do but take another hit.
This time, there’s a crunch, a bone breaking, and the dizziness gets worse.
I feel unconsciousness pulling at me, and I want to wrap myself in it.
Maybe when I wake up, I’ll be home again…
I’ll be wrapped up in Jude, and not deformed further.
That he won’t have to look at me and remember I’m nothing but a whore…
even if that’s really all I am. All I want is to get away from here, away from the pain, and the nauseating knowledge that keeps pummeling me.
One more punch. And another. And finally…blissed blackness.