Page 47 of Crystal Wrath
Bennato lowers himself to a crouch, placing himself at eye level with me. His movements are fluid and controlled like a predator sizing up wounded prey. His cologne is overwhelmingly strongthis close, with notes of bergamot and sandalwood that would normally be pleasant but now make my stomach turn.
“You have been busy, Elena,” he remarks, his voice low and deceptively calm. There's no anger in his tone, which somehow makes it more terrifying. “Poking into matters that do not concern you.”
I work my jaw, trying to get feeling back into my face. My tongue feels thick and clumsy, but I force myself to speak clearly. I lift my chin as much as the awkward position allows, ignoring the way my neck strains against the tension in my shoulders. “Your men broke into the newsroom. They shot my editor.”
His smile is slow and completely humorless, the expression of a man who takes pleasure in others' pain. “That was just a warning. Nick survived, did he not?”
The casual way he mentions Nick's name as if they're old friends makes bile rise in my throat.
“If you think this will scare me into silence, you're wasting your time,” I manage, proud that my voice doesn't shake.
He chuckles, a sound devoid of any real amusement, and rises to his feet with the same fluid grace. “Your bravery is admirable. Foolish, but admirable.”
He turns his gaze to Amelia, and I watch her try to shrink away from his attention. Her bound body trembles against the ropes and fresh tears spill down her cheeks. The sight of her terror ignites something fierce and protective in my chest.
“And who is this lovely friend?” His voice takes on a different quality when he looks at her, something hungry that makes my skin crawl.
“Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with my investigation.”
“That's unfortunate for her,” he replies smoothly, his tone suggesting he couldn't care less about Amelia's innocence. “Collateral damage is rarely fair.”
He steps back and gestures to one of his men with the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. The man moves forward and removes Amelia's gag with the same roughness he used on mine. She gasps for air, her chest heaving as she tries to fill her lungs. Fresh tears well in her bright blue eyes, and she looks at me with a desperation that breaks my heart.
“Tell me what you've learned, Elena,” Bennato murmurs, returning his attention to me. His gray eyes bore into mine, searching for weakness. “Be honest, and this doesn't have to end badly for either of you.”
I meet his gaze without flinching, drawing on every ounce of strength my mother taught me. Ana Martinez fled an abusive husband with nothing but her baby daughter and the clothes on her back. She worked three jobs to keep us fed and housed, never once complaining or giving up. I won't dishonor her memory by breaking now.
“I don't have anything you don't already know. Just whispers. Hints.”
The lie sours on my tongue, but I hold his stare. In truth, I have much more than whispers. The USB drive hidden in my pocket contains months of painstaking research. Financial records that trace money through dozens of shell companies. Property deeds that show suspicious ownership transfers. Witness statementsfrom individuals who were brave enough to speak out about corruption in city government. Names, dates, and amounts. Enough to bring down his entire operation if it ever comes to light.
He studies me for a long moment, his head tilted slightly like he's trying to read my thoughts. The silence stretches between us, broken only by the distant sound of waves and Amelia's labored breathing. Then, he strikes without warning.
The back of his hand cracks across my cheek with stunning force. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I fall to my side, the breath knocked from my lungs. The taste of blood fills my mouth, and my ear rings with a high-pitched whine. Pain radiates from my jaw up into my temple, sharp and throbbing.
“You insult my intelligence,” Bennato hisses, crouching beside me again. His calm demeanor has cracked, revealing the violence underneath. “You've dug up names. Accounts. Offshore holdings. Shell companies linked to me and mine. Do you think I would let that go?”
I blink away tears, trying to focus through the pain. My cheek feels hot and swollen, and I can taste blood where my teeth cut into my lip. But I force myself to look at him, to show him that he hasn't broken me.
“I haven't published anything. I was verifying sources.”
The truth and the lie blend together perfectly. I am verifying sources, but I am also much closer to publication than he realizes. Nick and I planned to run the first article in the series within the week, pending final fact-checks and legal review.
“Then perhaps you need motivation,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to something almost conversational.
He signals to one of the guards with a subtle gesture. The man steps forward and hauls Amelia upright by her bound arms, making her cry out in pain. Her terrified whimper cuts through me like broken glass, and I struggle against my own restraints, trying desperately to reach her.
The guard produces a knife from his jacket, the blade reflecting the dim light as he holds it near Amelia's throat. She goes rigid with terror, her eyes fixed on mine with a desperate plea I can't answer.
“Stop! Don't touch her!” I scream, pulling so hard against the ropes that I feel them slice into my wrists.
Bennato raises his hand slightly, and the man freezes, the knife still hovering inches from Amelia's neck. “Your loyalty is touching,” he muses, watching my reaction with clinical interest. “But how long will it last when I start removing pieces of her?”
I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe slowly and deeply. I think of Renat, drawing strength from the memory of his unwavering determination. His steady voice when he promised to protect me. The way he looked at me when I challenged him in his own home, respect mixing with something deeper in his eyes. The fire that burned there when he swore nothing would happen to me. That strength and controlled fury. I borrow it now, wrapping it around me like armor.
“You think this makes you strong?” I ask when I open my eyes again. My voice is hoarse but defiant. “You're just another coward hiding behind threats.”
His expression darkens, the mask of civility slipping further. A vein pulses in his temple, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I'm not hiding. I am reminding you of your place.”
