ALESSIO #2
She can't hide the pride in her expression, even now.
Even bound and about to be burned alive.
Like she's discussing a Fortune 500 company instead of the lives she'd destroyed.
I reach for the valve. Her eyes follow my hand.
The smile disappears. Another slow turn.
The burners answer with a deeper roar. Heat rolls across the floor.
Luciana jerks as the steel beneath her feet grows hotter.
Leather soles begin to hiss. She bites down on a cry.
I wait. Allow the pain to catch up to her.
Seconds stretch. Another hiss escapes her as she shifts her weight, trying to lift both feet at once.
Trying to decide if she should chuck the shoes off or keep them on.
Tough choices. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes—no pun intended.
"You were saying?"
She glares at me. "He made deals with the Reapers..." she sucks in a shaky breath, "and other motorcycle clubs."
The smell reaches me a heartbeat later. Not flesh. Leather. The expensive heels she'd chosen for today's auction are beginning to blister.
"They controlled stretches of highway..." she says through clenched teeth. "Moved weapons..." Another pause. I don't help her. "Stored shipments..."
She squeezes her eyes shut as the heat intensifies. "And every now and then..." she exhales sharply, "they'd sell us a girl they'd taken."
My stomach turns. Not because of what she says.
Because of how casually she says it. Like she's discussing cattle.
Or grain futures. Not daughters. Not children.
I have done things that make grown men wake up screaming years later.
I've broken bones. Pulled triggers. Buried bodies.
Every one of them deserved it. This... is different.
She doesn't enjoy hurting people. That would almost make sense.
No. Luciana simply doesn't see them as people. Merchandise.
That's what makes her dangerous. That's what makes her evil. I stare at her for another long beat. Then I reach for the valve again. Her confidence finally cracks.
"No..."
Another quarter turn. The roar deepens. The steel beneath her shoes glows faintly red around the edges. The leather blackens. She jerks violently as the heat finally punches through. A strangled gasp escapes her throat. "Enough!"
"I don't think so."
I lean forward until we're eye level. "You've told me how the Collector moved them." I watch another blister bubble beneath the leather of her heel. "Now tell me about Flea."
She blinks. "Flea?"
"The biker."
Silence.
Then she laughs. It's short. Confused. "What about him?"
I study her face. "You really don't know."
Her smile fades. "Know what?"
I chuckle. The sound echoes around the Oven. For the first time since dragging her in here, I'm genuinely amused. "He spent the last three years hunting your buyers."
Her brow furrows. "He what?"
"Freeing girls." Another heartbeat. "Giving them new identities."
She stares at me. "No... he wouldn't."
"Oh, yes." The corner of my mouth lifts. "He kept records of every woman. Every buyer. Every filthy son of a bitch who ever thought money could buy another human being."
She shakes her head. "That's impossible."
"It would've destroyed your empire."
She stares at me. Disbelief slowly gives way to something I'd been waiting to see. Fear.
I lean closer. "The Collector knew."
Her eyes snap to mine. "He what?"
"He figured it out. He had Flea taken." Her breathing quickens. "Tortured. Questioned. Strung up like an animal. He wanted the ledgers."
Her face drains of color. "You're lying."
"He never told you?" I almost laugh. "No?" I shake my head. "I guess he didn't trust you as much as you thought."
"You're lying," she repeats.
The words come too fast. Too desperate. A humorless laugh escapes me. "Let me show you."
I pull my phone from my pocket. I swipe through the images until I find the first image of Flea I took, holding the screen in front of her.
The image shows Flea suspended from the ceiling, wrists chained above his head.
Blood runs down his ribs. One eye is swollen shut.
The next. Open ledgers. Pages upon pages.
Names. Dates. Photographs. Buyer numbers.
Girls marked rescued. Girls marked missing.
Girls marked dead. Luciana stares. She doesn't blink.
Doesn't breathe. I watch her entire world come apart one image at a time.
"You..." she whispers. Then it hits. A torrent of venom explodes from her mouth. "You fucking traitorous bastard! What an ungrateful little piece of shit! I should've slit his throat the day he was born! I should've let them carve him up with the rest!"
The metallic table rattles as she throws herself against the restraints. "You worthless biker trash! You pathetic, motherfucking Judas! You son of a diseased whore!"
"You ruined everything!" Her voice cracks into a scream. "I BUILT THAT!"
Every muscle in her body strains against the restraints.
I slide my phone back into my pocket. There it is.
The real Luciana. Not once has she asked about the girls.
Not once has she asked about the dead. Not once has she cared about the lives she destroyed.
Or commented on the fact that Flea is dead. Only the empire she lost.
For whatever reason, that tells me more about her than the last hour of interrogation ever could. I don't hate her. Hate requires emotion. She's beneath that.
"Now..." I rest my hand on the valve. "Let's talk some more about Flea."
I reach for the valve.
"No..." Another slow turn. The roar deepens. Luciana jerks violently as the heat punches through the soles of her shoes. The smell of scorched leather fills the room. She bites back a scream. "Talk."
She squeezes her eyes shut. "He's your brother."
That. I. did NOT expect. "My what?"
"Half-brother."
Her lips split into a cruel smile. "There. I finally surprised you. You didn't know, did you?"
I don't answer. Not because it hurts. Because my brain is rearranging timelines. Flea. Luciana. The Reapers.
Son of a bitch.
She mistakes my silence for pain. "He was my first."
The triumph returns to her voice. "My husband was president of the Reapers."
I don't really care, but what the hell. "What was his name?"
"Jax Grizzly Mercer. I was fifteen when he took me." She laughs bitterly. "Married me. Owned me. Whatever word makes you feel better."
I say nothing.
"He was old enough to be my father. I gave him what he wanted. And then I made the mistake of wanting something for myself."
"His second?" I guess.
She nods. "His sergeant-at-arms. The only man who ever looked at me like I wasn't property." Her smile twists. "We got caught."
"What happened?"
"They cut part of my ear off, and his, and my son's." She tilts her head just enough for me to notice the missing piece. "They took my son, Flea." I wait. "He was handed to another couple in the club. Raised as their own. They told everyone he was theirs."
"And you?"
She attempts to shrug, but winces. The pain should be becoming nearly unbearable by now. "I stayed. Grizzly let me stay, but only ever as property he was too proud to give up in front of the club." Her laugh is hollow. "A year later, Grizzly died."
"So the trailer. The poverty. All that was a lie?"
She shakes her head. "No, that was all true. Only it was Grizzly who took me out, not Lenny. I married Lenny because he was the only fool willing to take a damaged woman who had cheated on her husband. He thought it bought him prestige to take the boss' castoff."
"And then..." she smiles without warmth, "I had you."
I’d heard enough. I stand.
Luciana's head jerks up. "Wait."
I don't. She twists against the restraints. "You have what you wanted."
I walk toward the steel door.
"You promised!"
I stop at the control panel. One button. One cycle. One sentence. Behind me, panic finally wins.
"No!"
The first crack appears in her voice. "No, Alessio."
I key in the authorization code. The display flashes green.
"You can't."
The chamber hums to life. Steel groans somewhere behind the walls.
"I'm your mother!"
My hand hovers over the final button. Mother. The word doesn't stir a damn thing. I press it. Machinery rumbles to life. Behind me, she screams.
"No! I told you everything!"
"You did! Thank you, mother." The word echoes through the chamber.
"You can't do this! Alessio!"
The outer door begins its automatic locking sequence. "Please!"
I pull my jacket back on without another look back.
I don't answer. The heavy door seals behind me with a deep metallic thud.
As I walk down the corridor, Flea refuses to leave my head.
Half-brother. Jesus Christ. He'd climbed through the Reapers.
Earned their trust. Worked his way into Luciana's operation.
Somewhere along the way... something changed.
Rachel. It had to be Rachel. Somehow, she reminded a man raised by monsters that he still had a choice.
He started hunting buyers instead of protecting them.
Started stealing women instead of selling them.
One rescue became two. Then ten. Then dozens.
He'd been dismantling Luciana's empire from the inside while the rest of us were looking for a ghost.
A dry laugh escapes me. I've broken bones. Killed men. Ordered executions. Helped build an empire on violence. None of it has ever made me feel the way she did. Dirty. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Just... contaminated.
Like I'd spent the last hour breathing poisoned air. Luciana hadn't simply crossed every line I'd ever drawn. She'd erased the idea that lines existed at all. For the first time in my life... I understand there are monsters even monsters fear. And the woman who gave birth to me was one of them.