Chapter 42
“Fuck!” Enzo slams his fist onto the steering wheel as he ends the call with Sera, his body shaking with the fury he’s trying to keep under control. I understand what he’s feeling. Rocco has Sera and we fucking failed her, again.
After the blast that took out Haze knocked me and Levi to the ground, it was only a matter of seconds before I glanced up to see Sera wasn’t there. She was right next to us, right there, and then she wasn’t. Guilt fills my lungs until I choke on it, my chest seizing as I try to maintain some sense of calm.
“She’s going to be okay,” I say, trying to convince not only Enzo but myself, too. “She can take care of herself.”
The fact we also know exactly where she is means she won’t be alone for long, but that’s not to say that Rocco won’t touch her. I don’t know the man personally, but I know the kind of company he keeps. Raf showed me the surveillance snapshots he managed to get of the Rocco family trading weapons with the Verdis and Grecos while they hid their sinister secret from Bianchi.
As if my inner thoughts are being projected into the car, Enzo floors the gas, getting us out of the city at record speed. Every pass of the trees has my heart rate kicking up a notch, to the point where I can’t tell if it’s nerves or something else. My leg aches, but my chest aches more.
“They’re not behind this,” Enzo mutters, barely glancing in my direction.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“The attack, this wasn’t Rocco.” His words carry a level of conviction that doesn’t leave room for doubt.
“Then who?” I grind out.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” He takes a sharp corner, his foot never touching the brakes, sending my body sliding roughly over the seat. The car clings to the road with ease, Enzo’s control over the vehicle steady and effortless.
“How do you know this isn’t a set up? How do you know they don’t have one of those calling cards?”
For a moment, Enzo doesn’t answer. His focus follows the road until the silence between us grows thick and heavy like a wet blanket.
“Enzo!” I growl.
“I just know.”
I don’t question him any further after that. Clearly, he knows something, and he’s keeping us all out of the loop. Shocker. Whatever it is, I just hope it doesn’t put Sera in more danger, because I don’t even need to explain what that would mean for LaRosa. He might have risen from the dead, but that’s because the Verdis are lousy shots. Me? I always hit my mark.
The frigid silence grows thicker with tension as we roll up to the wrought iron gates of Rocco’s mansion. Enzo slows the car down when we reach the security gate, the heavily armed guard on duty ducking his head to window level to check us both out. He doesn’t say a word, only nods in our direction before waving a hand in the air.
The gates roll across the gravel, opening up to the driveway. It’s a short way to the front of the house where another guard is waiting for us. I glance up at a massive mansion that rivals Alfredo Bianchi’s, exhaling a long breath. The whole place screams money, but I know all too well where that money comes from. While none of the money we make is actually legal, the dirty business Rocco and Greco have found themselves embroiled in leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, to the point it makes me nauseous.
Pushing the threat of bile beneath the surface, I step out of the Dodge Challenger we hijacked and lock eyes with another guard waiting for us.
“This way,” he grunts, pushing through the front door of the ornately decorated mansion. He guides us down a corridor to the back of the house, bringing us through to a garage. The metal door in the corner swings open as another guard comes marching through, directing us to follow him.
“Oh damn,” I smirk as recognition dawns on me. He’s dressed in the same uniform as the guard at the gate; the same guard who just showed us here. The familiarity makes my nose scrunch like I’m sniffing out a bad smell.
Suddenly, I’m not feeling so anxious about Sera’s well-being, because these uniformed guards are outfitted the same as the ones who helped get us out of the Verdi’s compound. The ones who rescued us when our mission to retrieve Luisa went south. I turn to Enzo with a questioning brow arched.
He snaps his head to me as our footsteps echo in the corridor. “What?”
I can’t fight the smile that curls my lips or the chuckle that bounces from my chest. Keeping my eyes forward, I think about what this all could mean; the link between these men and the same men from the rescue mission. The link between Rocco and Enzo, and the fact Sera has no fucking clue. But she will.
“You’re so fucking dead,” I state with a short laugh.
By the way he doesn’t even look in my direction, I know Enzo is already well aware of what I’m referring to. He just mutters, “You have no idea,” rubbing his brow and huffing out a breath.
We round a corner and stop short of the open door. My pulse races as I take Sera in; draped in a blanket and gripping a knife at her side. “Sera…” I say her name before I realize, and she spins around, eyes rounding.
I race towards her—as well as I can in my condition—and wrap my arms around her.
“You’re okay.” Her voice cracks with relief, making me hold her a little tighter. She hisses in response, clutching my shoulders and pulling away.
“You’re hurt,” I frown, tugging her blanket off to inspect her. When my gaze travels back to her face, I notice the gauze on her forehead. Any relief I felt before is eaten up by my anger at seeing my woman hurt.
“No… well yes, but I’m okay,” she breathes, smiling earnestly. “Nico patched me up.”
“Good,” Enzo grunts from beside me. “It’s the least he could fucking do after abducting you.”
Sera reaches out and cups his shoulder, shaking her head. “Now isn’t the time.” She turns her head to Nico, who’s currently beating the shit out Tomas Greco with a baseball bat. I flinch when his swing cracks Tomas across the face, dislocating his jaw. Blood drips over his face and eyes and a sickening groan pierces the silence, followed by slurred sobs and pleas for Nico to stop the torture. I have to admit, it’s definitely a creative way to get information, but I wouldn’t have aimed for the one feature that Tomas requires to actually speak.
Swinging the bloodied bat over his shoulder, Nico spins around, stretching his other arm out to the side. “Gentleman!” He beams at me and Enzo expectantly before turning around and placing the tip of his bat on Tomas’ split chin. “Oh boy,” he whistles, tilting his head. “LaRosa is here. You’d better start talking, because if you thought I was going hard on you…” Nico crouches to his haunches, smearing the blood around the guy’s face with his palm in taunting fashion. “Think again.”
“I…” Tomas pants, his breath a faint gurgle. “I…” he shakes head. At this point, it’s all the guy can actually do. Aside from sobbing like a baby, that is.
As Enzo and I fully enter the room, I take note of the clinical atmosphere; the easy clean white tiles, the metal surgical cart hosting a variety of tools. Nico definitely thought this through, and I’d say he’s more than experienced with how to ensure an easy clean up.
“What has he said so far?” I ask Sera as Nico guides Enzo to the array of shiny tools. Each one shimmers under the bright light, not a single spot of rust on them. Clearly, Nico takes good care of his tools, or he just buys them brand-new each time. It’s not exactly a cheap hobby, but when you want to take pride in your work, you want the best tools for the job.
“Nothing of real value,” Sera mutters, and I can hear the thread of irritation in her tone. “Though, at least we know these assholes were behind the attack tonight.” She motions with her head to the sleeping old man strapped to a clinical metal chair. “He’s still out.”
However long Greco’s been out for, it’s obviously starting to piss Sera off. But by the looks of things, Nico is having a whale of a time with his son. My gaze darts between Tomas and his father, the sick bastards who have been helping Verdi traffic kids and women into the state. I’ve yet to understand what Rocco’s ulterior motive is here, because last I checked, he was just as involved in this operation as Greco.
Pushing that thought aside—because I trust Sera’s judgment—my eyes lock on the bucket sitting on the floor beside a deep sink. I hobble over, picking it up and filling it with water. It takes a whole five seconds to get a decent amount in there, and when I turn around, Sera lifts a brow at me. “I think it’s time he woke up.”
Splash.
Don Greco coughs and splutters as the water assaults him. His eyes widen when they lock onto Bianchi, and as my gaze follows his, something shifts within Sera.
The cold look in her eyes, the way she shrugs the blanket off her shoulders like she’s shedding her skin. Sera wears a look of indifference, violence swimming in her eyes as she takes two steps towards Greco and places her blade under his chin. She tuts softly, impatience threading the subtle sound. “What a disappointment,” she says coldly, though she doesn’t sound too disappointed. “I really thought I could trust you.”
Greco huffs, shifting in his binds. “We all make mistakes,” he grunts. Sweat drips down his temple. He’s trying to exude some kind of confidence, but he’s failing miserably.
Sera snorts with amusement. “You’re right, we do. Unfortunately for you, I don’t think reneging on our deal counts as a simple mistake. Do you? Especially when you came after me tonight.” There isn’t a single note of weakness or uncertainty in her words, just cold determination.
With Greco’s eyes wide, she draws the blade down the length of his throat; deep enough to cut, but not enough to make him bleed out. Then she steps back, her eyes alight with something close to sick satisfaction, and fuck, does she look beautiful. That fire she was so unsure about having is undoubtedly present now, spurring her to be the queen she fucking is. In a split second, she’s gone from the leader of La Cosa Nostra to the Empress of Evil.
“Oh, you thought that you were safe?” she muses, tilting her head and then feigning disappointment with a pout of her bottom lip. “We all make mistakes, don’t we?”
Greco shudders against the chair as Sera lifts her blade against the light to inspect it. The action alone is enough to put the fear in Greco; acting so bored, so detached, there’s no hope for any man under her. “In case you were wondering, it was Verdi who gave you up.”
Greco remains silent, his attention firmly on Bianchi.
“He had quite a lot to say about your involvement in your…” she taps her cheek in thought with the shiny blade, vaguely tainted by Greco’s blood. “Business.”
“Sang his name like a pretty little song,” Enzo laughs, joining in.
Sera smirks back at him, pacing in front of us. “I wasn’t there to end it all, but LaRosa here assured me it was magical.” She leans forward, eyes darkening. “I wonder what song we’ll get out of you?”
“What do you want?” Greco sneers.
Clearly, her message hasn’t gotten through to him, but that doesn’t bother her. Sera leans forward, resting her palms on her knees and giving me a decent view from above. As if she realizes, the minx looks up at me and winks before returning her gaze back to Greco.“You have something that doesn’t belong to you, and I want it back.”
“And what would that be?” Greco grinds out, feigning ignorance. Of course the fucker knows what we want; he was in on this the entire time.
“Oh, come on, Greco.” There’s a playful lilt in Sera’s voice as she stands. “Let’s not play games. It won’t end well for you because I always win. So let me repeat myself; you have a girl who doesn’t belong to you. Where is she?”
Despite Sera’s mask of pure violence, Don Greco isn’t playing ball. “You’re going to have to be more specific, sweetheart. My inventory is a little full.”
My stomach twists at the sickening thoughts Greco’s words conjure up in my mind. I don’t even want to think about how many girls he has in his confinement, or the idea that one of those could be Giovanni’s kid. It just doesn’t sit well with me, and that’s the thought that has swinging the butt of my gun against Greco’s head.
“Answer your leader!” I bark.
Greco sneers, “She’s not my leader.”
“I think that was the wrong answer, Greco,” Nico tuts from the doorway, folding his arms as he nods to Enzo. Before I even realize what’s happening, Enzo is sliding the blade he chose from the metal cart across Tomas’ stomach. The gash is deep enough for blood to pour, but not deep enough to kill him. Enzo is methodical in that way; he knows what he’s doing. So when Greco flinches at his son’s warbled cries, he places the blade against Tomas’ stomach again, threatening Greco to push his luck.
Tugging Greco’s head back, I lean in close to his ear. “Want to try again? Or do you want to see LaRosa here gut your boy like a pig?”
“I don’t know wh—”
Enzo wastes no time in slashing Tomas’ stomach a second time, more blood pouring out of the gaping wound and swirling down the drain beneath his body. The screams that bounce off the walls are exactly what I’d expect from a spineless prick like Tomas. His screams turn to silence as he goes limp in his chains, passing out from blood loss and pain. The hook in his leg alone is enough to make someone pass out blind, but with the way Enzo is slicing and dicing the guy, there won’t be much of him left soon.
That bite of realization seems to hit Greco at full force. “She’s with the rest of them!” he shrieks, and that single sentence is like cool relief on a burn. Greco isn’t as untouchable as he thought he was, and now he knows it.
“The rest of them?” Sera’s fingers twitch over the knife handle once more. “Where?!”
Greco remains silent. If he thinks he stands a chance of getting out of this alive, he’s sorely mistaken. He’s nothing more than shit on Sera’s shoe, and even that’s a disservice to shit. He’s only prolonging his torment by holding his secrets, though.
Something inside Sera snaps the moment the silence becomes too much. “Answer me!” she yells before driving the knife into Greco’s shoulder. She doesn’t even give him a chance to react before she twists it hard.
He cries out, his pathetic whimpers echoing in the chamber-like room. “It’s too late,” he hisses, trying not to shake.
But Sera has other ideas. I can see the glint in her eyes, the one that tells me she’s completely detached from her emotions right now. It’s one I know all too well. I’ve never seen it on her before—hell, I’ve never seen Sera inflict torture—but she’s a goddamn natural. Maybe it’s the fact she feels like she’s to blame for Giovanni’s daughter being kidnapped, or maybe she thinks she’s responsible for getting her back. I know she made that promise to Giovanni, but nobody is making her do this.
No. Sera is content, running shit the way it should be, and I couldn’t be any damn prouder of her for that.
Greco pants through his pain, attempting to remain steel faced. “She’ll be long gone by the time you get to her.” As if his words don’t already infuriate Sera, he starts laughing. “Unless you want to make a bid.”
Nico narrows his eyes on Greco from the doorway. I can see his fingers twitching to get ahold of his captive, especially when he sends his last sentence Nico’s way. “She’ll fetch a nice sum too, I know how you like them young.”
Nico steps forward. For a second, I think he might kill the guy. With the glare he sends Greco, it could be possible. But then Nico surprises us all by swinging his fist out and punching him square in the face. “That’s for Mila,” he growls, and there’s no mistaking the protective tone in his voice.
Averting the focus back to herself, Sera slides the flat edge of the blade against Greco’s cheek. Calmly, she looks down at him, but her anger is evident in her tone. “Tell me where they are… all of them.”
The subtle glance Greco sends his son’s way doesn’t go unnoticed. He thinks he can save him, and Sera sees what we all do; regret.
“You can’t help him,” she reminds him with all the coldness of a killer.
“Let him go, and I’ll tell you everything.”
I leer over Greco. Did he seriously think he could request such a thing, after what happened tonight, after what he’s done to Bianchi? “I don’t think you’re in any position to call the shots,” I snarl.
“Neither is she,” he retorts.
Sera glances at Tomas, a cruel smile curling her lips. Greco just gave her everything she wanted, everything she needed to know who was in charge. “Oh… but I am.”
Her eyes trail down Greco’s body, over his paunchy gut to the zipper at his crotch. Her eyes light up with an idea I know is going to terrorize me for years to come, but I love where her head is at. She nods at me, and I don’t need to be told what to do next.
While Nico hands her a pair of leather gloves, I use my knife to cut open his pants.
With that same sick smile, Sera uses her own blade to shed his underwear. “Let’s see if we can’t convince you.”
“What are you going to do?” Greco scoffs, but his false bravado isn’t enough to hide the fear underscoring his words. “Suck my cock?”
“You should be so lucky,” Sera whispers to Greco while winking at me. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t turn me on a little. That is, until she pulls the man’s flaccid cock out with a grimace, her eyes trained on the knife in her other hand. “I think I want a blunter blade.”
All hell breaks loose in the room as Greco fights against restraints. He thrashes around like a wild animal, an untamed beast with no morals. It’s just enough of a weakness for Sera to use her threat to get what she wants.
“Tell me how to get to them.”
“No, please!”
“Tell me and I’ll spare your pathetic excuse for a dick.” Without warning, she starts to glide the blade down his length, making a small incision over the flesh. My own dick recoils as Greco screams like a banshee, but damn it’s hot to see Sera so ruthless. I can categorically say I would not want to be in his position right now.
“Oakwood!” he cries out so loud that I wince. “Oakwood Manor!”
But then the words register and time stands still
Sera freezes, wavering slightly. Her stare goes blank as she too listens to the one word that has just added another name to her list of revenge.
The Governor.
After that, Sera doesn’t give a second thought. She swings her arm in an outward motion, slashing a clean slice across Greco’s throat. A beautiful arch of crimson liquid sprays across the room, decorating not only me, but Sera in a splash of color. It spurts across her face and dress, the contrast of the red making her purple dress stand out. She’s the perfect image of evil in beautiful form. The way her eyes lift to mine shows me just how determined she is to get Giovanni’s kid back.
She’ll go to the underworld and back to reap evil on those who deserve it.
My little angel of death.