Chapter 13
Rico
Ihaven’t wiped her spit from my face.
It’s dried into my skin.
I have this illogical theory that maybe the spirit she had, the gumption to stand before me unafraid and furious will seep into my pores and allow me to recognize the feeling and understand it.
Perhaps I’m more insane than I ever thought.
Imogen feels her emotions passionately, violently. She showcases them without shame. I wonder how that must feel. To be able to express yourself without feeling like you’re doing something wrong.
“She’ll be waking up soon, right?” Pietro asks me.
Her head is slumped forward. Body bound by rope to the metal chair. A blindfold over the palest of blue eyes. Her complexion a ghostly white. Despite the small amount of food she’s eaten she still looks as if she’s on death’s door.
It leaves me feeling heavily unsettled.
This is a woman who shouldn’t be suffering. And alas, she is. Under my hands. I don’t know what to make of it.
She isn’t the first woman I’ve had bound to a chair. Unlike her the others were being tortured for being traitors. I didn’t have a problem with it. Traitors, no matter who they were, knew death was coming for them. It was my responsibility to deliver it.
Seeing Imogen bound the same way? There’s a tightness in my stomach. It twists and twists. Gnawing at me, leaving an ache that won’t pass.
I adjust my shirt. My perfectly tailored shirt with buttons just right, no tag and precise seams. Yet now the material is constricting.
When I can usually spend all day comfortably in this attire I’m currently counting down the time until I can rid myself of it.
Burn it even. I’ll never want to wear this shirt again. It’s damn ruined.
Pietro’s fingers snap in front of my face. I stare at him blankly. “Earth to Rico!” He snaps again and this time I swat his hand away. “Now that I have your attention once again, when is sleeping beauty waking up?”
“The M99 should be wearing off,” I tell him. “She should be awake any minute now.” I eye the set up. A stage light to blind and disorient her. A plastic sheet beneath her. Gino waiting for the video call to be answered. Everything is right and yet I can’t get this damn sour taste out of my mouth.
“You really think Seamus will care enough for her to stop his attacks against us?”
“I think after losing his son he won’t be willing to lose the only child he has left.”
Pietro blows a nervous breath. “You’re awfully confident of this plan of yours.”
“I am.”
“That’s good but,” he says, stepping back and wearing that shit eating grin that means more trouble than it’s worth, “I bought an insurance policy.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
He holds his finger up at me to wait and goes to make a call. “Come on in boys.”
My muscles immediately lock. “What are you doing, Pietro?”
He steeples his hands and then rhythmically taps his fingers. His eyes are mischievous. “Carina said appearances, right? And who am I to disappoint our Donna?”
“This isn’t part of the plan,” I say tightly.
“You’re right.” His eyes gleam. “It’s a better one!”
I can’t explain it. I can never seem to fucking explain it. It’s almost as if I’m unraveling. Tearing apart at the seams but only internally. Everything seems to be happening at once and I can’t pinpoint one thing to focus on.
Before I lose it I need a moment to calm my racing thoughts. Head down I push past Pietro, purposely checking him on the shoulder as I stride to the exit.
I faintly hear him call after me but I’m too in my own head to acknowledge him.
This is why I’m the one who handles things. I make the plans. I strategize. That way there’s no surprises. No sudden changes. Because this feeling? This feeling I can’t place or control? I fucking hate it.
The stale air of New York City hits my face. My nose is assaulted by the stench of trash, smoke and rotting food but fuck is it welcome.
Dragging in breaths I twist the watch around on my wrist. I keep turning and turning it until I feel myself come back in control.
One last turn, one last breath.
“Rico?” My fingers linger on the worn leather of the watch. Casting my head to the side I see Gino from my peripheral vision. “She’s up and she’s calling your name.”
I nod my head.
There’s something primal that awakens within me knowing she’s asking for me. It screams MINE.
And damn all the gods if she isn’t.