Page 10 of Until You Break
“Don’t stop begging on my behalf.” His grin curved, voice smooth, low. “I love the sound of your fear.”
I scrambled back. My pulse jumped, wild.
He didn’t move closer. Just studied me like an art critic judging brushstrokes.
“You must be wondering what this is,” he murmured. “Still trying to decide if it’s a mistake or a message. Why no one’s come to save you.”
“Yet,” I snapped.
A low chuckle. “You think someone’s coming? That’s cute.”
Three slow steps forward. The cell shrank.
“Where am I?” My tongue felt thick. I pressed my back to the wall. “Please, just let me go.”
“Aww…piccolino. Still thinking we got the wrong order.”
He crouched until his gaze was level with mine. “You belong to me now. And I don’t share my things. Not even their screams.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.” My voice broke.
He laughed, low. “I’m here to announce you don’t get a vote.”
He leaned in, close enough for leather, steel, and smoke to settle around me like a collar.
“Your father made a deal with someone who doesn’t forget,” he said. “And now you’re here. In my house. At my mercy.”
“You’re a Bellandi,” I whispered.
A grin. “Damiano Bellandi, at your service.”
Bellandi meant killer. The same name Papà had whispered like a curse, the one tied to the night Mama never survived.
“Why am I here? What is this?” I pushed.
“Innocence isn’t currency. Not here. Not anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He straightened. “Your blood did. That’s enough.”
“Tell me what you know about my family.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ve heard the name in whispers. Tell me what they said.”
I shook my head, throat tight. “Stories. Nothing I believed.”
“You should have believed every word.” His grin widened. “Because now you’re living it.”
He turned to leave. “You’ll stay here until I decide you’re ready. Ready to obey. Ready to kneel. Ready to break… or maybe just beg first.”
I moved with a roar, before thinking. Shoved to my feet and slammed my palm against his jaw, spit landing hot beneath his eye.
He went still. Not shocked. Pleased.
Two fingers dragged the spit slow. “You just gave me your hands and your mouth. In my world, that’s an invitation.”
“It’s called self-defense.”
He grinned. “Self-defense doesn’t feel this good,cucciolo.”
“Then why not thank me for the lesson?” I shot back, trembling.
