Chapter 20
Twenty
The scent of blood and rusted metal hits me as Vitali swings open the warehouse doors. The sound echoes into the cavernous void, a chilling lullaby of dread that echoes through my veins with each pounding heartbeat. Dim bulbs hang overhead, casting more shadows than light in this bleak realm of torture.
Am I ready for this? To face the brother who once pulled me from the brink, yet possibly betrayed me? The moment I insisted on seeing my brother, Vitali wasted no time. Within minutes, his sleek black sedan was idling at the curb, ready to whisk us away. He is eager to learn what I know, and the urgency is palpable.
As we sped through the dimly lit city streets, the air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension. Vitali’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the road, while I stared out the window, lost in a whirlwind of anxiety.
The neon lights flashing by only added to my unease. I appreciated his promptness, yet dread curled in my stomach about what lay ahead. As we approached the imposing, shadowy building that seemed to swallow us whole, doubt gnawed at me.
Now, with each step I take deeper into the lion’s den, a sense of regret is beginning to creep over my resolve. There, in the belly of the darkness, typing up like a marionette from my darkest nightmares, is my brother. Blood oozes from his swollen face into a quickly spreading pool, tainting the concrete far too bright a shade of crimson against the gray underbelly. My breath hitches in my throat as I stifle back a choke of dread boiling up from my stomach.
Vitali’s grip on my arm is possessive—an unwavering reminder that he’s the puppet master in this sordid play. He’s tall, towering over me in his glossy obsidian suit. His hazel eyes never waver from my face as he studies my reaction.
“Is this what wanted you to see?” he murmurs, voice barely reaching over the deafening beat of terror drumming in my ears.
Before I can yank my arm from his grasp, Vitali releases his grip on me, striding towards the corner where a ragged chair awaits him. His steps are confident and measured—one-two, one-two—it’s all a fucking dance for him.
Clamping onto whatever semblance of courage resides within me, I rush forward toward my brother. His chocolate eyes, mirroring mine, meet my gaze with a flicker of sorrow.
“Let him down.” It is meant to be an order, but it comes out a plea.
Vitali lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug, his lips pressed together in a contemplative line, as though weighing his options. After a moment, he shakes his head decisively.
“I don’t think I will, mio piccola cerva ,” he says, his voice smooth and unwavering. Elio’s growl rumbles through the air, a low, menacing sound that cuts through the silence at Vitali’s use of my nickname, his swollen eyes narrowing with barely restrained anger.
“She isn’t your anything, stronzo ,” Elio spits. Vitali laughs, the cold sound ringing through the cavernous space.
“Oh, but she is,” he mocks my brother. “Isn’t that right, Gia?”
“Stop,” I hiss at him through clenched teeth.
Vitali sneers at me from his chair. “What? Don’t want to tell him the happy news, il mio fidanzato ?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Elio’s eyes blaze with defiance as he lunges toward Vitali, the metal chains clanking loudly and pulling taut, restricting his movement to mere inches. His frustration boils over, and his chest heaves with the effort, triggering a harsh, wet cough that echoes through the room. My lower jaw trembles involuntarily at his desperate struggle.
“The plan is already in motion, Elio,” Vitali states with a deliberate calmness, rising from his seat and walking over to stand beside me. His eyes lock with Elio’s, a silent challenge hanging in the air. “The question is, whose side are you going to be on? Your sister’s or your father’s?”
Elio’s upper lip twists into a disdainful sneer, and with a swift motion, he spits at Vitali’s polished leather shoes, the glob of saliva landing with a soft splat.
“I rescued her from my father,” he retorts, his voice laced with defiance, “and I’d rather die than see her fall into the hands of someone who is just like him.”
Vitali’s eyebrows shoot up, arching into a perfect expression of surprise and intrigue at Elio’s bold declaration. “Then we both agree on something, it seems.” Vitali tips his chin up and levels my brother with a hard stare. “We know Fino sent you to assassinate me, Elio. I want to know why.”
Elio lets out a hard breath, his chest rising and falling heavily as he shakes his head, wincing at the sudden motion. “It isn’t what you think,” he mutters, his voice carrying the weight of defeat.
“Then tell me what I should be thinking,” Vitali retorts, his eyes narrowing and his tone laced with anger. “Because from where I am standing, it looks as if you were in cahoots with your father all along. Plotting to get your sister out of Italy so that he could pocket all the profits from her inevitable sale on the dark web.”
My heart skips a beat, and I whip my head up to stare at the man beside me, disbelief etched on my face. Did he just say the dark web? The very one that Hades controls?
“No,” I stammer, my voice trembling as if on the edge of breaking. “My father was selling me to Salvatore.”
Vitali’s gaze softens as it meets mine, a deep, unplaceable sadness swimming in his eyes. “No, Gia,” he gently reassures me, his voice taking on a tender tone. “Fino intended to hand you over to Salvatore so he could sell you on the dark web to settle his debts. But I suspect Fino discovered the true value of a virgin and plotted with Elio here to whisk you away, claiming you were kidnapped, while he planned to sell you himself.”
“Then why didn’t he come for me at the cabin?” I ask, panic rising in my chest like a tidal wave. “I would have been useless to him dead.”
“Because Elio was the one who cut the power,” Vitali explains, his voice gentle as he meets my eyes before his gaze hardens and snaps to Elio. “Isn’t that right?”
When my brother remains silent, I shift my gaze toward him, feeling an icy resolve settle within me. His expression is etched with remorse, eyebrows knitted together, and lips turned down in a silent plea for forgiveness, but I can’t muster any empathy.
“Why?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper but laced with an edge.
Elio nervously wets his dry, cracked lips with the tip of his tongue, hesitating as if each word weighs heavily. “The wires were a failsafe, Gia,” he explains, his voice almost desperate for my understanding. “I set them on a trigger switch, thinking it would be foolproof. But I didn’t realize that when I first activated the device, it hadn’t worked properly. The blackout in the house was supposed to be the cue for you to leave, to escape, but it failed. You stayed until you were nearly half dead from starvation.” His voice trembles, the enormity of his mistake hanging in the air between us.
“You were never going to come back for me?” My voice cracks, and the tears that have been welling up in my eyes finally spill over, tracing hot, salty paths down my cheeks. A sob escapes my throat, raw and jagged.
“I trusted you,” I choke out, “and you abandoned me like I was nothing. Even if your failsafe had worked. You left me alone in a foreign country with no money, no shelter, and no one to turn to.” My chest heaves with each breath, the words hanging heavy in the air between us.
“I know,” is all he says, his voice barely a whisper, eyes cast downward in a mixture of guilt and regret.
“You know?” I snap, my voice dripping with venom as I fix him with a glare. “You know! Was that your plan all along? Save me and then dash off to assassinate Vitali, one of the most powerful men in the country, fully aware that you’d likely never come back alive?”
Elio shakes his head, his eyes wide with desperation, as he mumbles frantically under his breath and tugs against the iron chains biting into his wrists, holding him upright.
“Tell me, brother,” I sneer, leaning forward with eyes narrowed in accusation. “Who had you so afraid that you agreed to one of the most idiotic suicide missions known to man?” My voice echoes in the dimly lit room, but he stays silent, his jaw clenched tight. I press him again, my patience wearing thin. “Who is it, Elio? You owe me this much at least because God knows that I nearly died out there because of your stupidity. Tell me who”
“I don’t have a name, alright?” he screams, the words erupting from him like a dam breaking. Elio’s face contorts with frustration, his fists clenching at his sides. His eyes squeeze shut, the weight of his regret evident in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his shoulders. “I never got a name. Just a symbol, one I’ve come to fear.”
“The Geryon ,” Vitali whispers the name harshly, his eyes narrowing as he leans closer. Elio’s throat bobs visibly as he swallows hard, his eyes darting to the floor. He nods, his lips pressed tightly together, too afraid of the consequences to confirm it aloud. “They contacted you and offered you a deal, didn’t they?” Vitali’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
Elio takes in a shaky breath, his shoulders tense. “If I killed you—” he pauses, exhaling sharply as if trying to purge the weight of the words from his chest, “then they would consider my father’s debt paid in full.”
A flicker of hope ignites in my chest, a fragile light in the midst of the surrounding darkness. “So you weren’t trying to sell me on the side with our father?” I ask, my voice a whisper of disbelief and yearning.
“Never, sorella ,” Elio replies, his voice soft and steady, eyes meeting mine with earnest sincerity. “I only wanted you to be free of everything.” His words wrap around me like a promise, a vow whispered in the shadows.
“Then you are going to have to decide whose side you are on.”