Page 100 of His to Have
Orlando didn’t wait for confirmation, only turning on his heels and storming out of the heavy steel door with his other men trailing behind.
Corey was still standing there, gun in hand, chest rising and falling a little too fast. He was no killer, despite the hard facade he wore. That man had never pulled the trigger on anyone before. It was all in the way he held the pistol, his posture, and the terrified look now that shit had got real.
Isabella knew it too. Even as broken and bruised as she was, her eyes looked through him with a strange kind of clarity. She took one slow step forward, her hand clutching her side. Then another step, her other hand barely outstretched.
She wasn’t pleading. Wasn’t saying a word. But the crazed look in her eyes said everything. She was willing to test her luck, even hurt, with a hesitant Corey. She lunged for the gun, and he stumbled backwards. The gun slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor as he tripped over his own feet. Isabella scrambled, diving to the ground, and reaching for the weapon while Corey fought to keep her from it. While they tussled over the weapon, the gun went off. The loud boom ripped through the room.
I didn’t bother to check to see if anyone was hit. I wasn’t and that’s all that mattered at the moment. Using my body, I rocked forward forcefully, using the chaos of the moment to try and free myself. With one determined move, I managed to create enough momentum to tip the chair sideways, making the wooden chair shatter under my weight. My hands, still bound to the arms, scraped against the concrete surface, but my adrenaline masked the pain. The ropes loosened just enough for me to wiggle my hands free, and I quickly untangled myself from the broken pieces. With my hands finally freed, I scrambled to my feet just as loud groans and rapid bullets could be heard in the distance.
By the time I looked back at Isabella and Corey, she had the gun backing away from him, who was now sprawled out on the floor. Blood trickled from his shoulder. Whether the bullet hit him or grazed him, I didn’t know, and didn’t care.
She turned toward me, her eyes wild, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction or the time to gather her bearings before I rushed her with full force. My shoulder slammed into her chest, knocking her to the ground, causing the gun to fly from her hand. It skidded across the floor, and I began wailing on her with all the strength I had left. Each punch landed with a satisfying crash. We were both hurt, but adrenaline fueled each of us.
She clawed at my face, her nails digging into my skin. And I fought back with equal intensity. We were both in survival mode, but I was more determined. Using my knees, I pinned her arms to the ground, then I used my elbows to keep her from wriggling free.
“You had me kidnapped,” I snarled, grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her head into the floor forcefully. “Tried to have me killed.” I repeated the motion, and she spit blood in my face.
I blacked out.
Wrapping my fingers around her neck, I squeezed, while banging her head over and over until her lifeless body lay still beneath me. Her wide eyes were stuck in a haunting stare, forever frozen in shock. My heart pounded in my chest, and horror filled me for the briefest of seconds at what I had done. But there was no time to dwell on it; I was still held captive and needed to find a way out.
Taking one last look at her, I mumbled, “Stupid bitch.”
twenty-six
Teo
“Shhh.” I held my finger to my lips as my men and I rounded the corners in the run-down warehouse. “Bring Gianni to me alive. Everybody else is disposable. Kill ’em all, no witnesses.”
“And what about the girl? You let her slip away.” Alex reminded me.
“Nah, I let her lead me to my wife. If she isn’t dead already bring her to me alive as well.”
Over the past few hours, my movements had been guided by pure instinct and rage. There wasn’t a single thing I wasn’t willing to do to get my wife back, including using any means necessary to extract the truth from the daughter of an ally. Gianni would be pissed, because there were rules. Each family handled their own, but I couldn’t, and wouldn’t rely on him to take care of his daughter.
Besides, she had information that I needed and had violated in a major way. I took great pleasure in breaking her.
I knew she would fold.
They always did when the tip of my knife met their flesh or the cold steel of my blade struck against their tightly clenched muscles. There was nothing friendly about the way I got my information. It was always brutal, and never a rush. Pain was the motivator, but not the way to salvation. Only death would suffice. But even death, in this moment, was too easy, and not conducive to my needs.
But suffering? That made people honest. And Isabella Vitale wasn’t any different.
I remembered the moment she made the decision. The second the pain was so unbearable that giving up Orlando and that bitch ass nigga Corey was the only way out.
She was fading.
Her breath was ragged, coming in short, quick bursts. Blood pooled beneath her feet from multiple wounds. Still, her chin tilted stubbornly. But I was determined to break that.
I grabbed her left hand, slamming it flat against the rusted steel beam beside her. “This the hand you used to poison my guests?” I held my palm open. “Alex… My machete.”
Alex handed over the blade with the same menacing smirk that matched my own.
Her eyes went wide. “Teo—”
“The one that signed off on my wife’s kidnapping?” I raised themachete.
“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” She screamed, thrashing against me. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything—please!”
