CHAPTER 4 #2
The silence shattered. The heavy, abrasive scrape of the deadbolt sliding open from the outside vibrated right through my teeth.
I scrambled backward instinctively, my bare feet slipping on the grit until my spine flattened hard against the far wall.
My right hand flew down, my fingers hovering over the hidden shard of stone in my dress.
The predator was back, and the tiny room suddenly felt like it was shrinking rapidly.
I bit the soft inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper, using the pain to force my jaw to stop trembling.
"He’s back," my brain fired rapidly. "Focus.
Watch his hands. Watch his fucking hands. "
Angelo stepped through the threshold, and the sheer size of him seemed to swallow all the light bleeding in from the hallway.
He was dressed in full black tactical gear, looking exactly like a shadow made of heavy muscle, expensive gun oil, and scarred iron.
He didn't speak. He just stood there, the heavy clomp of his combat boots silencing the room as his terrifying, oil-slick eyes dragged over my body from head to toe.
He kicked the empty plastic water bottle I had discarded; it skittered across the concrete like a dead rat.
"You look like a ghost already, Fiorella," he noted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated the stale air. "I see you found your appetite."
He tilted his head, a dark, predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he realized I was standing up and staring him down.
He noticed the way I was trying to hide my shaking hands behind my back, and it clearly amused him.
He moved into the room with this slow, fluid, feline grace that absolutely screamed he had all the time in the world to break me down piece by piece.
He lifted his hands and casually pulled a pair of black leather gloves tighter over his heavy knuckles.
The leather creaked loudly in the quiet room.
"Still standing. Good," he said, his eyes locking onto mine.
"I prefer my payments to have some life in them. You think that wall will protect you?"
I raised my chin, forcing my honey-amber eyes to flare with every ounce of arrogant Silvestri bitch energy I possessed.
"My brother will have your head for this, stronzo," I snapped, my voice ringing out sharper and steadier than I felt.
"There is no corner of Sicily deep enough for you to hide from a Silvestri.
" I took a defiant half-step forward, desperate to reclaim even a fraction of an inch of my own space.
"What is your price? My father will triple it.
Alessio will burn this fucking mountain down to find me. "
Angelo laughed. It wasn't a real laugh; it was a low, scraping sound that never reached his dead eyes.
"Alessio’s money is stained with the blood of my family, Principessa," he said, taking a massive step forward that completely cut off my view of the open door.
"I don't want his gold. I want the marrow from your bones.
" He casually tapped his long fingers against the heavy sidearm strapped to his thigh.
Thump-thump. The rhythmic sound made my stomach bottom out.
"Your family doesn't have a price anymore.
Only a debt," he continued, a vicious edge bleeding into his tone.
"Cazzo, you really believe the lies they fed you, don't you? "
He started to circle me slowly, his heavy boots crunching loudly on the loose grit.
And then he started talking. He spoke about the Ferraro family, about a specific night ten years ago when the Silvestri men rolled in with fire and automatic weapons and completely silenced an entire fucking bloodline.
He didn't describe my father as a respected Don; he painted him as a slaughterhouse butcher.
He called me a pretty little ghost living in a house built entirely on corpses.
The psychological foundation of my entire life was being hammered into dust with every word out of his mouth.
I reached up and covered my ears for a split second, a pathetic, childish reaction, before I realized how weak I looked and ripped my hands back down.
"The Ferraro name was erased by your brother’s hand," Angelo growled, his voice right next to my ear. "You’re just the interest on a loan that’s long overdue. "
"Bastardo! You are a liar and a thief!" I screamed, my voice cracking wildly as panic clawed at my throat.
I wanted to lunge at him, to claw his eyes out, but my feet felt like they had been poured in concrete.
I clenched my fists at my sides so hard my diamond rings bit deep into the flesh of my fingers.
"My father is a man of honor!" I yelled, fighting a losing intellectual battle against the stone-cold certainty on his face.
"You’re nothing but a dog barking at the moon. "