Page 119 of The Diávolos: Part Two
Suddenly, my vision goes black, and I know that we’re in a tunnel from the echo of my footsteps in the hollowness around me. I can hardly breathe under this face covering, but I don’t dare complain. It’s not like he’ll do anything about it anyway.
I repeat my bad bitch mantra in my head as I take uneven steps forward.
I am a fucking warrior.
I am powerful.
I live my life on my own terms.
I can do whatever I put my mind to.
I don’t let anyone disturb my peace.
I’ve got this.
My captor halts his steps, and I bump into him from behind. Then, I hear noise, chatter, and life. And it’s suddenly no longer dark. What the hell?
He drags me along and sits me down on a chair. Next, he removes the bag from my head and my eyes squint to adjust to the light.
I’m in a large room, something resembling Hendrick’s lair, but not as big. A bunch of men are walking about, but none of them pay attention to me. Where am I?
My strange companion hovers near me, maybe afraid I might make a sudden move, but I have to be calculated.
From the corner of my eyes, I spot someone heading toward us, the headache still blurring my vision, but the closer the person gets, recognition flickers in my eyes. Aria’s father.Son of a bitch.
I want to pounce at him for being an absolute asshole, for what he’s putting Aria through—and forthis.
I didn’t expect Philip Kastellanos to be the one behind my abduction, but it all adds up now. He was my father’s partner. And now that Peter’s dead, Philip thinks he’s in charge.Over my dead body.
“What do you want, Kastellanos?” I snap.
He laughs, but it’s not pleasant. “Now, now, Angelica. Didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders? It’s always been Mr. Kastellanos to you.”
“You don’t deserve my respect,” I retort, flabbergasted by the audacity of this despicable man.
He pushes a table and chair in front of me and sits, interlacing his fingers together, elbows on the wooden surface. He looks relaxed, like he’s got everything under control and all the time in the world. But I don’t know why since Evander and I are married and have technically taken over my family’s business and assets.
He smirks. “You seem confused,Giegie,” he says, using my childhood nickname, and I want to kick him under the table.
I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. Philip should be worried about what my marriage implies, yet he seems so confident and calm. Dread forms a knot in my stomach.
“Why am I here as your hostage?” I ask him. “Shouldn’t the respect be owed to me as well, given I’m your best friend and partner’s daughter?”
He lets out a loud chuckle. “Oh, Angelica,” he coos like I’m a child and my face heats from anger and a twinge of sadness. Aria’s parents have always been family to me, so this behavior is confusing to say the least.
“I respected you until you decided to marry that waste of a man. TheDiávolos,” Philip says in a mocking tone. “Regardless, I anticipated his next moves. I might not have succeeded in eliminating my little problem at your wedding. But now that you’re here, Evander will come strolling in any time now looking for his dearest, and I’ll have both of you begging for mercy.” His grin is maniacal.
“He’ll never let you hurt us.”
“He might never allow me to hurtyou. Though, I’m sure he’d sacrifice himself if his beloved is about todie.”
My heart sinks. He’s right. Evander would sacrifice himself without a second thought. I can’t allow that to happen.
“I’ll get out of here before he does.” I wiggle against the rope still tied to my wrists to—weakly—prove my point.
Philip gestures to the silent man behind me, and I tense for a moment until I realize my abductor is cutting me loose. I rub my damaged skin as I glare at him.
I’m glad I’ve been released, but Philip seems a little too confident that I won’t do anything drastic. In the time I’ve been away from Cebrene, I’ve developed tough skin. Trained my mind to no longer be seen as weak. Upped my fighting skills to attack when necessary. I might be small, but I’ve become mighty, and I should not be underestimated.Not anymore.
