Page 60 of Destruction

What the fuck is taking so long?My unpleasant encounter with our host only lasted a few minutes. He gloated about one of my top dealers getting picked up, then got pissed when I didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, so he had his guys cut my finger off. He didn’t stick around for that, of course—fucking coward.

I figured it’d be the same for Allesandro, but I’ve been sitting in this cell long enough for the blood on my residual finger to clot.

If they killed Il Padrone, nothing will stop Emilio from burning the world down.

As the thoughts run through my head, the door to the cell opens and three goons walk in, carrying a prone and listless Allesandro between them. I stand, the chain around my ankle scraping against the floor and making them glare at me, even as they drop Allesandro to the floor and chain him up again.

“What the fuck did you do?” I demand, stalking forward, ignoring the guns pointed at me.

“Back the fuck off, or he’ll wake up to find your corpse,” the one holding the gun barks.

“I cannot wait until Il Padrone takes you apart. I will piss on your graves.”

They all laugh as if they think I’m kidding. That’s fine, let them have their delusions. Every infraction against us is another minute of torture before we end their miserable lives.

When they leave us, I sit as close to Allesandro as the chains allow, watching his every movement, waiting impatiently for the asshole to wake up.

What feels like half an hour later, but it could have been several hours, or just a few minutes, for all I know, he finally stirs.

Bright blue eyes crack open and he groans. I give him a bland smile once his gaze focuses on me.

“Stop being so lazy,” I quip, defaulting to humor to hide that I was worried about the fucker. “Just because we’re away from our Families, doesn’t mean it’s a vacation.”

“Fuck off,” he mutters, carefully sitting up. “You’d be tired too if they stabbed and cut you, and fucking stole a damn finger!”

I hold up my hand and show him my crudely wrapped missing finger. “They did, and I didn’t take a nap afterwards. Man up.”

He snorts. “Well, at least we’re matching.”

I laugh humorlessly and move to sit back against the wall, my worry now easing since he’s up and talking normally.

“Carter is going to be pissed about this,” I muse.

“That has nothing on how Emilio is going to react.” He smiles a little. “I almost pity them.”

My laugh this time is genuine. “I can’t wait for the show.”

Because it will be a sight to see once our Families come for us. Kidnapping us is one thing, but maiming? Yeah… I wouldn’t want to be any of those poor fuckers.

It’ll be like Christmas came early for Tennant and Emilio, and I am so looking forward to it.

The car rolls to a stop and I’m so fucking exhausted, I worry won’t be able to drag myself into the house. At least Tennant didn’t come with me. That’s a shitshow I don’t want to start right now. It was only Hollis that kept him back. Truthfully…I wanted him to come. It’s fucked-up, but he lights something up in me. Something that’s been missing. It never used to be, but it slipped through my fingers—ourfingers—at some point.

Giving my thanks to the Amato driver, I nod my hellos to the guards stationed outside of the mansion. Stepping inside, I’m thrown into the past, when Ignacio first brought me here. When I was that scared, naïve kid who thought kidnapping wasn’t the best thing in the world. How quickly things change.

Midas, Lio’s dog, gives me a quiet woof on my entrance. I look around for my best friend, but don’t see him. “Where’s your owner, Midas?”

I probably shouldn’t say owner. I’ve seen those two interact, and Lio belongs to Midas more than the other way around. Then again, that dog is so incredibly pampered, I’m surprised he would consider anyone his owner. When Midas nudges the door to Lio’s office open fully, I drop my hand on his head and pet him in thanks. Taking a deep breath, I walk in.

My heart hurts when I see my best friend slumped over, his head in his hands. “Hey. I won’t ask how things are, but at least I’m back.”

Lio’s head snaps up, relief crossing his face. “Thank fuck you’re here. I’ve fucking missed you. Antonio filled in, and while he did a good job, he’s not you.”

I smile, even though I’m worried about the outcome of the conversation we’re about to have. “It’s good to know I’m needed.”

“And wanted,” Lio says sharply. “Speaking of which, before we get down to the issues, I have three things to say. One, good job finding your comfort with violence. Two, nicely done on faking bad form with Tennant—but you fucking know better than to let your guard down all the way. And three, do I need to kill Ignacio?”

I snort, scrubbing my face with my hands. That’s my best friend for sure. “Do I even want to know why you’re asking about point three?”

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