Page 63 of Salvatore

I should beg. Plead. Blubber for my freedom. But even if the men in my gene pool were easily influenced by vulnerability, I’d have absolutely no desire to show it.

Instead I glare through twenty-eight years of festered hatred. “This is a mistake.”

He smirks as he grabs the door handle. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re well past your expiry to be of any use in this room.”

I stiffen, taking in my surroundings with more scrutiny—the rainbow lamp on the magenta bedside table, the sheer glitter pink curtains, the bright unicorn duvet with a row of teddies resting against the pillows.

It looks like a typical little girl’s room… but it’s not.

The commercial video camera sitting atop a sturdy tripod near the open bathroom door, along with the surveillance cameras in all four corners of the room, confirm that the cartel is still making money from child pornography, just like they did when I was younger.

“I suggest you stay away from the balcony,” Alonso drawls. “If I catch you out there I’ll be tempted to see if Daddy’s little runaway knows how to fly.”

15

SALVATORE

I stareat my mother behind the steel bars of her prison cell, the air still relatively cold in the basement of Lorenzo’s Virginia Beach mansion despite the warm weather outside.

“I think I like this color.” She raises what looks to be a green half-knitted scarf from her lap as she sits on the small single bed inside her cage. Her outfit of a basic grey sweater and sweatpants makes her look the part of the incarcerated inmate.

I need to get her out of here. Away from the confines instated by my uncle. But that isn’t as easy as it sounds when Remy, Abri, and Matthew all want her dead.

“You’re quiet today.” She pauses theclick, click, clickof her knitting needles and raises her gaze to mine. “What’s troubling you?”

“Nothing.” Everything is as unstable and complicated as it’s ever been. Same fucking circus, just different monkeys. However, it doesn’t help that I’ve been fixating on a woman who snuck out of my bed and walked from my townhouse more than two weeks ago. I’d been so obsessed with her in those early days that I’d had her watched, only to grow maniacally frustrated when my PI didn’t glimpse sight nor sound of her in five days.

She must have fled the city, despite telling me she lacked the funds to accommodate the escape, or is holed up in that tiny apartment living a hermit lifestyle. Either way, the radio silence drove me so fucking insane I had to call an end to my predatory behavior for the sake of my waning sanity.

I never should’ve ignored my silent watch alarm when she’d triggered my front door sensor. I should’ve kept her with me. Tied her to my bed. Imprisoned her in a makeshift cell just like my mother’s. That way I’d be exposed to her snappy comebacks every day instead of being haunted by the one-liners she’s already delivered.

The woman called me Adam, for fuck’s sake. While my goddamn dick was inside her.

“Your mind is elsewhere, Salvatore.” My mother places the half-finished scarf and knitting needles on her lap, and repositions herself on the bed. “Tell me what has you distracted.” She skootches closer to the bars and reaches her arm out toward me.

I don’t move from my position a few feet away, my ass firmly planted on an uncomfortable wooden chair that demands perfect posture. “Time is creeping closer to when I’ll be taking over from Lorenzo.”

She retracts her hand, acting as if the attempt for contact didn’t happen. “And that worries you?”

No, it annoys me.

I never wanted the position. Or to be part of the illegal legacy handed down from my mother’s side of the family. But there was little alternative. Remy and I had no prospects for the future. At the time, we hadn’t had a nickel to our names. And living a champagne lifestyle on a homeless budget wasn’t something I wanted to explore.

So I stepped up to be Lorenzo’s successor because I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let my baby brother do it. Rem hadn’tbeen nurtured toward the underworld like I had, even though his ability to take lives has proven far easier for him than I’d anticipated.

I shrug. “Taking over doesn’t worry me. It’s just been on my mind.”

“You can handle it. Your father taught you well.”

I force myself to remain relaxed, composed, even though what my father instilled in me were teachings I’d rather forget, not one lesson willingly endured.

I mustn’t hide my animosity well because my mother’s eyes narrow, zeroing in on me.

“My father was a great teacher,” I acknowledge. “But living the lifestyle is complicated.”

“Power doesn’t come easily. We will be in control soon enough, and once I’m out of here I’ll be able to help you more.”

I nod.

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