Chapter 22 Branded In My Memory
Branded In My Memory
The kids at my new school are so boring. They don’t laugh at my jokes the way you do. —Missing you, Enzo
Izzy
The consigliere’s words echo through my mind, over and over on a never-ending loop.
He’s refusing to sign. You’ll have to take him to court.
Or kill him.
Though he didn’t actually say that last part, it was implied.
It’s something I expected. I didn’t really think he’d back down without a fight.
Lucas wants my money; it’s the only reason he married me. It’s still hard to wrap my head around the knowledge that he knew the entire time. Why go along with it? It’s not like he’s some impoverished man in desperate need.
Enzo’s touch against my elbow is gentle, but it sets off a fire inside me, alighting my every nerve.
All my feelings for him from when we were kids are still there but multiplied tenfold.
Add on the sexual attraction and knowing how good he is with his tongue?
How he fucked me so hard I saw stars? I’m a goner.
“You good?”
I nod, mumbling something that sounds like, “Yeah.”
Things are still a little strained between us. I don’t know how to be around him anymore; for the first time in our friendship, it’s not comforting to be close to him. I want more. I need more. But I’m too cowardly to go after it.
It’s been a week since everyone left after staying for St Stephens Day. We devoured leftovers and got ridiculously drunk, requiring Enzo to carry me to bed after I tried getting Kai to join in with Karaoke (he didn’t).
New Year’s Eve was spent with just the two of us.
Things were a little awkward to begin with.
But we ended up watching Star Wars: A New Hope and timing the explosion of the death star to the ball drop.
It helped. Made things more normal. It seems we’ve crossed a line, but neither of us is willing to take any further steps forward or back.
This news that Lucas is still digging his claws in hits hard. The plan was supposed to be simple, seduce him, then take him down. But then he proposed. And while Phoenix gave me the option to say no, I didn’t really have much choice.
I thought getting close to him would help our cause. But in the two years I was with him, I barely learned a thing. And anything I did learn was from my snooping, not anything I found specifically because of the ruse.
That makes the bitter pill even harder to swallow. Because it was all for nothing.
And now I’m left with burning rage, and a husband who won’t quit.
Enzo’s voice snaps me from my thoughts.
“Want to join me in going after Xander tonight?”
The name slices through me. My hands tighten into fists, knuckles turning white.
“Tonight?”
Enzo nods. “Yep, I’ve had someone tailing him. It’s time.”
If Enzo’s going after him tonight, then it’s time to spill some blood. No one takes this from me this time.
I clench my jaw. “I’m in.”
Enzo
I hand Izzy a gun before we leave—she’s proven her ability to shoot.
She takes it, removes the magazine, locks the slide back, inspects the chamber, then flicks on the safety once she’s satisfied.
More proof that she’s a professional. I just don’t know how yet.
Part of me wants to dig further into her history—my snooping over the last twenty years has clearly been surface level—but something is stopping me.
I don’t know what it is; usually, I wouldn’t hesitate to gather intel.
Dante is waiting downstairs with Rafael. My papa decided not to join us this evening.
We slide into the waiting car, Dante in the front next to Rafael, me with Izzy in the back. Her leg jostles up and down nervously, her breath shallow, as she stares out the window.
“You got this, Piccola.”
Her head whips to mine, eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a frown. “You did not just call me that.”
I laugh. She pretends to hate that old nickname, but I know she secretly likes it. It's why I named my club after it.
I shrug, nudging her shoulder playfully. “If the shoe fits.”
A sharp thwack lands against my chest. “Bastardo fastidioso9,” she mutters under her breath.
My teasing has the desired effect—her shoulders are no longer bunched tight, and she’s not twitching with nerves.
The car rolls to a stop outside one of Xander's so-called ‘massage parlors’. They’re just fronts for his illegal operations—most of which I don’t give a damn about. But this one? This is where they send the girls. Not all, mind you, but enough.
We’re careful to close the car doors quietly, not wanting to alert our presence too soon.
“Alright, our intel says he should be here alone at this time. We get in, grab him, then get out again.”
Jerky head nods all around signal that everyone understands the plan.
Xander, according to the information from Kai and the guy I’ve had trailing him, is not the sharpest tool in the shed. He should be pretty easy to capture.
Swiftly, we move as a unit, pulling open the unlocked back door and filing inside. It’s dark, save for light spilling out of a room at the end of the hall. His office.
His voice floats down toward us.
“Luc, are you not worried? Derek’s been missing for weeks now. What if—”
Shit. He’s not alone.
I look towards the others—the silent conversation clear: do we continue with the plan or turn back?
Everyone nods again, eyes narrowing with determination.
Now’s the time.
We’re now right outside the office. I hold up a hand, telling everyone else to stay put.
The doors hinges squeak as I push it open, stepping into the room.
Thwack.
Pain lances through my skull.
“Fuck!”
Lucas’s slightly blurry face swims in front of my vision. His grin is evil—just like his soul. He shouldn’t be here.
I shake my head, clearly my vision, ducking just before he takes another swing at me.
Izzy’s high-pitched scream—one filled with rage—echoes as her, Dante, and Rafael join me.
Our eyes meet, hers are filled with malice as her gaze flickers to Lucas.
She charges, I step aside in time for her to lunge at him, both of them clattering to the floor.
He twists, sending her sprawling, then kicks her in the face.
I see red.
Before I can charge at him Xander takes a shot at me, stealing my attention. My fist slams into his skull. Blood flies from his nose, the sound of crunching bones fills the air.
One punch. That’s all it takes to knock him out cold.
When I turn back Lucas is gone.
In two strides I’m at Izzy’s side, helping her up. Already, her eye is turning purple, the skin around it swollen and throbbing.
Dante and Rafael haul Xander up, each holding under one arm, and drag him out of the room toward the waiting car.
Izzy frowns at me. “I thought the point of me coming was so I could actually be involved this time?”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Oh, Iz.” I pause, watching her reaction. “We’re just getting started.”
Izzy
Xander is tied to a chair, the same one Derek was. It feels like poetic justice that they should both lose their life in the same spot.
He’s squirming, now awake and aware that this is his end.
“Tell me everything you know about Lucas’s role in buying girls, and maybe I’ll make this easier for you.” Enzo’s voice demands my focus as he crouches in front of Xander.
He shakes his head, trembling. “I can't,” he whimpers pathetically.
Enzo tuts. “Wrong answer.”
There’s a flash of metal and then Xander is screaming as a knife slashes down his front, shredding his shirt and causing scarlet red to drip across his sweat-soaked skin.
I appreciate Enzo’s desire for answers, even though we both know that Xander is here for another reason. Kill two birds with one stone. Can’t fault him on that.
Perhaps we’ll gather something useful. Something I can feed back to Phoenix.
Enzo breaks one of Xander's fingers, the sound of bone and cartilage cracking fills the room alongside his scream.
Xander whimpers but doesn’t speak. He’s stronger than I expected.
After a while Enzo gets bored of his non-answer. I haven’t joined in just yet, content to watch the interrogation for now.
I’ve never tortured a man before. It’s not exactly common in my line of work, but I can’t help the way electricity dances over my skin like a live wire—excitement and anticipation swirling in my gut.
I slip off the table where I’m sitting, legs swinging—the same table I was on when Enzo fucked me with his tongue. A shiver runs through me at the memory.
Placing a hand on his chest I still his movements. Dante and Rafael left after we got Xander tied up, so it’s just us now. “Let me have a go.”
He twists his neck to look at me. “Are you sure?”
I nod, slipping the blade from his hand.
“You know,” I tell Xander, tilting my head to the side. “What you did to me will forever be branded in my memory.”
I hum to myself, pushing the scraps of fabric off his chest. “I think I should brand you too, don’t you think?”
He shakes violently, thrashing at the bindings.
When I carve my name into his skin—red rivulets of blood cascading down—he sings for me. His cries are music to my ears. I couldn’t cry properly when he raped me with a knife to my throat, the paralytic drugs they gave my clogging my throat.
He’s making enough noise for the two of us now.
Stepping back, I admire the way my name looks on him. A reminder of me, one he’ll wear until his very bitter end.
Enzo assesses my work, a smirk twisting his lips. “Nicely done.”
“What should we do now?”
“I think we should let him be for now, let him wait here, wondering when his last moments might be.”
He’s sadistic now. It shouldn’t be so arousing.
“Bye Xander.” I wiggle my figures in a little wave as Enzo drags me out behind him, the door clanging shut behind us.
“You’re a little psycho, you know that right?” Enzo laughs as we step back into his apartment.
I twist my head to look at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
He pinches my side making me yelp. Then his expression turns serious. “Seriously, Iz. When are you going to tell me how you became this person?”
I sigh, sinking down onto the couch, letting my head fall back against the cushions. “I can’t.”
Phoenix is not something I can discuss, no matter how much I trust him.
We are a collective of agents, all of us with handlers—like Cam—who connect us to the higher ups.
We don’t ask questions. We don’t know who each other are unless we end up on a job together, and even then, it’s never acknowledged. It works.
Since I joined, I’ve helped take down five trafficking rings. Despite the work we do, despite the number of groups we target, more keep popping up faster than we can take them down. Still, each woman saved is a win.
Enzo disappears for a moment, then returns with an ice pack. He presses it against my cheek making me hiss. I’d forgotten all about the swollen face.
“The Izzy I left behind was too innocent to know how to shoot a gun, let alone torture a man.”
I roll my eyes, taking the ice pack from him. “The Izzy you left behind was thirteen years old. I grew up.”
His eyes rake over me, and I swear there’s a hunger behind them. “I’ve noticed.”
The flush creeping over my skin is inevitable under the intensity of his gaze.
“When did you learn to shoot?”
This I can answer.
“When I was eighteen. Papa taught me.”
“Why?”
“So I could protect myself when he was gone. He had cancer. Terminal. He wanted to make sure I’d be okay without him.” And he wanted to train me to take over his role, not that I knew it at the time.
“I’m sorry.” His arms wrap around my shoulders. “I’m sorry you went through his death alone. I should have been there.”
“Why did you stay away?” I ask. The question has been burning inside me for the past twenty years. “Why did you stop replying to my letters?”
He steps away from me, pacing slightly as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I thought it was better keeping you away from my world. I—Iz, I’m not a good man.”
I stand in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “I know exactly who you are, Lorenzo.” His face screws up at the name. “You’re my best friend. The man who protected me when I needed him most. You might not think you’re good. But to me? You’re my savior.”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t care if you’re a monster, Tesoro. You’re my monster.”