Page 15 of Until You Break
Dino’s grin flickered through the haze, betrayal sharper than the needle. My stomach rolled; I bit my tongue until blood cut the fog. My body jerked once and dropped heavy. Heart racing, vision swimming, the world tilting wrong. I could barely breathe, let alone think.
I stared at the dark window. My reflection wouldn’t hold. Streetlights smeared to sick gold lines. I heard the faint rustle of a crowd outside the warehouse, a low murmur building like a warning. Glass glittered, bracelets and rings flashing under hard light. Their silence pressed down, turning every betrayal and mistake louder.
Through the haze, the blur sharpened: the warehouse at the end of the street. Steel doors pulled wide. Lights wrong, hum of tires fading under the rush of my pulse.
This was where Dino had taken me. And I had believed him.
He’d walked me past these doors, hand on my shoulder like it meant something. Called it neutral ground. All a setup, his voice, his hand, the promise of safety twisting in my gut like a blade.
Streetlamps didn’t touch the upper walls. Windowless, cold, soot-stained steel. A building built to forget the sun.
The van jolted to a stop. Cold air slapped my face as the side door slid open. Hands clamped my arms and dragged me out. My shoes scraped pavement, grit biting through thin soles. Damiano leaned in, breath brushing my ear, voice mock-gentle. “Easy,piccolino… wouldn’t want you to trip before the show.”
They pulled me inside the warehouse I’d only ever seen from the outside. Steel walls soared, air reeking of oil and damp stone. Light came down in slabs. Sound flattened, murmurs, clink of glass, fabric shifting. They hauled me forward. Myknees buckled. Cuffs bit bone. Damiano’s palm pressed my nape, barely any pressure, enough to make my body remember its place.
Faces crowded the space, eyes cutting as sharp as the lights.
Bellandis on the right. Silver serpents crowned in thorns. Too many, like the walls wore their mark. My stomach tightened. The woman in black silk stood at their center. Marcella. Mama’s best friend turned killer. A whisper in every plan. Now real, staring through me. Beside her, another Bellandi sibling, face carved sharp, gaze colder than steel, watching like I’d already been filed.
Valentis on the left. And there… Papà.
His eyes found mine as soon as I crossed the threshold. The same eyes I’d inherited, colder now. He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Something in his face shifted, barely. Fury buried under calculation, deciding if I was still his or already gone. The look hit like a slap, and for a breath I wanted nothing more than to run to him, hide in his shadow, beg for cover.
My oldest brother Salvatore shook with fury, fists curling. Enzo clenched his jaw hard enough to crack it. I wanted to believe their rage was for me.
“Papà…” My voice scraped raw. “Please… don’t let them. Say something. Stop it, please.”
The words felt small and stupid. I hated that I still wanted him to save me.
He stepped forward. One step that cracked the room. “Enough.” A guard raised his gun. Another clicked off the safety. Papà didn’t flinch. “You think you can parade my son like this? In front of me?”
Marcella didn’t blink. “Sit down, Riccardo. You’re late to the story. And far too small to change the ending.”
His jaw locked. Hands clenched. He didn’t move again. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “You said you wanted totalk. You didn’t mention him. Didn’t mention you had my son. If I’d known that…”
Marcella’s reply came ice-cold. “And yet, here we are.”
“Sal! Enzo!” I tried to break free, the drug making my voice slur. “Please… please say something.”
Enzo stood so fast his chair toppled. “He’s innocent. He has nothing to do with this. Get your hands off him. Now.”
“You take him,” Salvatore growled, eyes on the guns, “and you’ll answer for it. He shouldn’t be the one taken.”
“Yet here he is.” Damiano’s arm tightened, holding me upright as my knees sagged. His breath grazed my ear, cruel amusement in his tone. “Careful now. Can’t have you falling before the curtain call.”
Guards surged forward, forcing my brothers back with gun barrels and heavy hands, turning their fury into a stalemate of steel.
Heat crept under my collar, fabric stuck to my spine. I’d dreamed of standing before them with honor. Not like this, drugged, cuffed, a walking humiliation. Their fury only sharpened the shame, like I’d dragged them into it with me.
Shoes scraped marble, perfume cut through gun oil, whispers rolled like a tide. Someone near the front exhaled, almost a laugh. Another turned away, shame too bright. Maybe I wanted their rage more than rescue. Maybe I wanted them to bleed for me.
Marcella stepped forward, chin high, serpents gleaming at her throat. Silk hissed. Her perfume hit sharp.
“Smile for the crowd,tesoro,” she purred. “You’re the centerpiece tonight.”
Then she turned to the room, voice velvet over a blade. “Welcome. As Riccardo said himself, you came to talk. Or better, listen. I didn’t expect so many of you on short notice. I’m glad you came. It’s right that you bear witness.”
Rows of strangers glittered with old money and power, feeding on the show. Their silence was enough, lights catching rings and brooches, faces bright with expectation. Eyes pinned me like a specimen. Murmurs shifted; glass clinks punctured the hush. Anticipation moved through them like they already knew the script.
