Page 17 of Omega's Vengeance

Carlo was right about one thing though, I was so fixated on my revenge, I didn’t notice he was about to make a move on me. I suppose I trusted him because Father did. I always knew he was power hungry, but I never suspected he’d turn on me. If I make it out of here alive, which I’m beginning to doubt, he’ll regret how he treated me today.

I blow on my chilled hands, trying not to fixate on my throbbing face and lips. My thoughts go to Enzo. I hope he’s okay. He was with me when Carlo and his goons arrived at the cabin. One of Carlo’s thugs stabbed Enzo, and I’m worried he might be dead. The thought of that actually bothers me. I’ve known Enzo so long, he’s almost like family. When Carlo showed up, I had no idea he was going to attack me and Enzo. We didn’t have our guard up and now look at the mess I’m in.

The biting cold of the cellar sinks deep into my bones. I’m tempted to get back on the cot with Dario so we can share body heat. If I try, will he knock me onto the ground again? Stupid prick, why should he get to lay there while I stand here shivering my ass off? Gritting my teeth, I move to the cot. Dario’s breathing is so slow and even, I assume he’s asleep. How can he sleep at a time like this?

He must sense my nearness, because he turns over and gives me a wary look. His body is tenses, as if he’s ready for a fight. “What are you doing?” he growls.

“I thought you were asleep,” I mumble.

He sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. “No. I’m trying to think of a way out of this.” He sighs and rubs his hands together, trying to warm them up. “Are you any good in a fight?”

“Yes.”

He runs his gaze over me. “You don’t look like you would be.”

I bristle. “Well, I am. My father insisted I study martial arts. I absolutely know how to fight. I’m a blackbelt in Taekwondo.”

He squints at me. “Is that a real fighting technique, or one of those artsy fartsy styles that rich brats like you take tofindthemselves?”

Scowling, I retort, “I can kick a guys ass, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m asking. Sophisticated breathing techniques aren’t going to help us in this situation.” He stands and we face each other.

His features are hard, and I sense he’s worried. That fact is unsettling. The entire time he was my captive, I never once felt like he was scared. But I can sense uneasiness in him now. Does he think we’re screwed? Does he assume we’re going to die? If a guy as tough as Dario is worried, I have trouble not feeling hopeless.

“What can we do?” I ask softly. “We can’t get out of here, so whatcanwe do?”

His dark eyes meet mine. “We have to get the drop on them.”

“How do we do that when they know we’re down here?” I frown.

Without answering, he moves to where there are boxes of old clothing. I watch as he grabs armfuls of sweaters and pants and carries them over to the cot. He drops them on the ground and goes to get more. I watch him, confused by what he’s doing. Once there’s a sizeable pile of clothing, he puts his hands on his hips and meets my bewildered gaze.

“Since they know were down here, we have to make themthinkthey knowwherewe are in the room.” As he speaks he grabs a coat from the pile, and he shakes it roughly. “We’re going to stuff this full of clothing and make it look like a person.”

His strategy slowly dawns on me. “So, we’ll make them think the clothing is us, and that we’re still on the cot?”

“Yes. In reality,” he grates, going back to the boxes, “We’ll be lying in wait.” He reaches into a box of fishing poles and he turns to face me. The pole he holds is snapped off, making it half the size it would normally be. He laughs gruffly at my blank expression. “It doesn’t look like much, but it can do some damage with enough force behind it. We can impale them in the gut or the eye, if we can get the drop on them.”

“Okay,” I say softly, trying not to shudder with revulsion. I don’t want Dario doubting my toughness any more than he already does. Truth is, I’m not a violent person by nature. My upbringing has forced me to be vicious on occasion, and I’m pretty brave with a cattle prod in my hands. But the idea of shoving that pole through another person’s eye socket makes me want to vomit.

Maybe something in my expression gives me away because Dario exhales impatiently. “This is life or death, Alessio.”

“I’m well aware,” I snap, annoyed he was able to read me so easily.

“It’s us or them. I need to know I can count on you when the time comes. If you’re going to pussy out, then forget it. I’ll do what I can on my own.”

I curl my lip. “I’m notpussyingout. Naturally I don’t relish the thought of shoving a fishing pole through a guy’s eyeball. That doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

“If we’re doing this, I have to trust you.”

I laugh because the idea of him trusting me is pretty fucking ridiculous. “Then I guess we’re fucked.”

A muscle jerks in his angular cheek. “I mean trust as in I trust you’ll act when it’s required of you. No, I won’t trust you for real, Alessio. Not after the shit you’ve pulled.”

“Something tells me you don’t trust many people whether they kidnap you or not,” I murmur. He gives me a wary look, but doesn’t argue. “What do you think our odds of getting out of this alive are?”

He grimaces and avoids my gaze. “Not great. But we have to try.”

---