Chapter Five
I wake slumped in the chair, still bound tight. My neck aches, my ass is numb, and I need to get the fuck out of here.
I glance around, and it’s just me and Matteo down here.
He’s out cold. I silently feel around my wrists.
I wriggle and pull, stretching the plastic as it grips, biting into my skin.
It burns from the friction before I feel the trickle of blood.
I twist and turn, tugging at my thumbs to move them out of the way, sliding the blood around, trying to coat them.
I finally start to feel them give as my hand starts to slip out.
I wrench free, gritting back the scream as I feel my thumb pop.
I breathe through it, keeping an eye on Matteo.
I stretch, leaning down and pulling at my feet until they’re free. Rivulets of blood seep down my wrists and ankles where the skin has been broken from the sharp plastic.
As I stand, I have to fasten my trousers, and I spare Matteo a murderous glare for now. My shoes are long gone. I creep towards the door, gently turn the handle, and it clicks. My gaze shoots around to Matteo, who starts to stir; I pull the door open and step out into the corridor.
One of the brothers is asleep against the wall, propped up in a chair, and I shake my head.
The key is still in the fucking door, but this dumbass didn’t bother to lock it.
I look at his face—I will kill this motherfucker first. I lean over him and snatch his gun, taking it with me.
Stepping through the house and creeping upstairs.
I check every room as I pass before finding Bellino’s.
I gently click the door open and step inside.
It’s dark. The curtains are drawn, and a sliver of light peeks through, cascading over Bellino’s sleeping form.
Lying across the bed, face down, his arms up and underneath the pillows.
His face relaxed, void of the normal tension.
It’s soothing watching his body rise and fall rhythmically, and I contemplate; can I turn him to our side, or should I just kill him now?
I take a seat on the chair in the corner of the room, resting the gun against my thigh and wait for him to wake.
I really could do with a shower, but I don’t want to get caught until we figure this shit out.
He stretches and rolls onto his back. His eyes land on me, and the moment of surprise schools itself instantly as he tucks his arm nonchalantly behind his head and casually slides his hand under the covers.
“Morning, Fiancée.” His gruff, sleep-addled voice fills the room.
“Good morning, brother-in-law.” I smirk. “We need to talk.”
“Do we?” He pulls a face. “Do we really?” He smirks at me, rubbing at his dick as he stretches out his legs under the covers.
“You do realise we could be stronger together?” I cross my arms over my body and give him a questioning look.
“Well, I think you were the one who called off the wedding, ya know, when you married my little brother.” He gives me a smug smirk.
“Oh, please, you never wanted me. You never even noticed me until I killed my father.” I huff a laugh at him.
“So it was you all along?” He grins as if he’s just figured out the key to the universe, while actually knowing it all along.
“As if it wasn’t blatantly obvious. Come on, Bellino, you’re a smart man—you and Vittorio could be so strong together. Why do you hate each other so much? I get why he hates you, but what has he ever done?”
He sits bolt upright, snarling at me. “You know fucking nothing!”
I frown. That’s such an aggressive response while being the favourite. There’s a disconnect between what I’ve heard from Vittorio to Bellino’s reaction. I stand and walk over to the bed, sitting next to him. “So tell me your version of events.”
He snatches me by the throat. I lift the gun to his temple, and I sit and stare at him, making no move to stop him. His eyes assess mine before he huffs and pushes me back. I move back a little but stay on the bed.
“Bellino, why aren’t you and Vittorio close?” I eye him warily.
“This isn’t a therapy session. We’re not friends,” he scoffs.
“We could be.” I eye him. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, and he hasn’t tried to kill me yet, so I’m taking that as a good sign.
“We could be what?” He scowls.
“Friends.”
He barks out a laugh. It echoes around the room before his gaze settles back on me.
“Yeah, we could be friends, and when I sleep, you’ll gut me for what Matteo did to you.
Truth be known, I would have done the same.
I would have taken you. I would have forced you.
I would have destroyed you.” He pushes into the gun, smiling at me, not a genuine smile, a savage, manipulative smile.
“I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone. ”
“But what if you could? Trust me, I mean?”
He huffs a humourless laugh. “How hard did he hit you?”
“I’m being serious, Bellino. Do you want to rule under your father forever, or do you want to lead and take over just like I did?
” I appeal to his nature, the ruthless man I know he is, and he will realise that while I am genuine, I’m also devious.
Choose me to be on your side or choose against me at your own peril.
“You’re being serious?” He shakes his head. “There’s no way I will ever trust you or my brother, for that matter. The minute I take out my father, you would take me out and take it all.”
“What about a contract? Until we establish the trust.”
“You’ve lost your goddamned mind. I should just put you out of your misery.”
I laugh at that. “What do you want, Bellino? Honestly?” I relax the gun, resting it on my knee but keeping it firmly in my grasp.
“Okay.” He nods. “Let’s play. I want the life I was promised. The life I was created for. I want what is owed to me.”
“And what is that?”
“I want the business, the houses, I want the title. I want the partner. I want everything my father led me to believe was mine. And I want to watch the life drain from his eyes while he realises that I took everything from him.”
“So, let’s take it for you. Together. The three of us.”
“Me, and my brother? Work together against Father—you’re joking, right? He will never go against our father. He is the favourite after all.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You’ve always worked together. Bellino, you’ve always been your father’s favourite. I’ve seen the scars and heard the stories from Vittorio. He hates your father.”
“That’s all lies. He was always Father’s favourite.
And we worked together because we had no choice.
” He starts pointing at scars. “See this? I didn’t kill efficiently enough.
I got the scars, Vittorio got an evening watching movies in his room with Father.
I was eleven. This one, there was still blood in the car after I cleaned up.
Vittorio got taken out for the day, and I was left scrubbing the carpet in the back of the car until my fingers bled.
And this one, Father said, Vittorio was destined for more than just to kill a man; he was born to lead, but I was proving too incapable, and I took the belt for it because Vittorio had more promise.
Do I need to go on? You want to carry on through the fucked-up road map that is my father’s abuse? ”
I reach out. “Bellino. Vittorio is riddled with the same scars, the same reasoning. I think your father has been playing you both off against each other. I don’t think any of what your father has had you believe has been true. I think you guys need to actually sit down and have a conversation.”
“Why would he do that?” He looks confused, but I know he’ll get it. He’ll see the bigger picture. They just need to be given the opportunity to work together against a common enemy, their father.
“Because he knew you two would be unstoppable together, Bellino, I don’t think he has any intention of handing over anything to either of you.”
His face contorts. He climbs out of the bed, snatching his clothes off the floor. “Let’s go,” he snaps.
I nod because, fuck, if this is all true, his father has just signed his own death warrant.
He pulls his phone off the nightstand. “Load Matteo into the back of the truck, now,” he bellows into it.
We head down the stairs and out of the front door.
I stick close, hoping we don’t see their father until they sort this shit out.
I’m still armed, and I may just shoot him myself.
We climb into the vehicle, me still clutching the gun in my hand.
I won’t hesitate to shoot him if things start to look like they won’t be going my way.
Bellino orders the Mancinis to go home, and we drive to mine in silence, the tension thick, the muffles, grunts and bumps echo as Matteo struggles in the boot.
I sit back and start to plan. When these two sort their shit out and I’ve destroyed Matteo, we will take over the rest of the fucking Syndicate.
And burn it all to ash.