Page 14 of A Game of Survival

“There is no one I would question. Cogliere la notte.” He states, with pure conviction in his tone. I mull over this for a second, already settled with the belief that he knows nothing about the van or where Teddy is being held. I slowly nod my head as I rise from the table.

“Get your men in line Enzo. This is your one and only warning. It’s hard work being at the top.” I advise, before unlocking his cuffs and leaving the room.

Well that went a lot better than I expected. I didn’t suspect Enzo of ratting on us or being involved with Teddy’s kidnapping due to his reaction back at Lucille’s apartment, but I did expect him to piss me off so that I’d end up knocking him out again, and enjoy getting my knuckles bloody. However, it wasn’t necessary, not this time at least. I’m not sure how Silas would have wanted me to handle it but there was no need to beat the truth out of him when he offered it so freely. Enzo’s a good man, and we’d be fucked if we lost him. I close my eyes and roll my neck, cracking the tension that strains through my body before walking back towards the room I’d left Max in, noticeably a little less tense than I was a few hours ago. As I pass by the bar again, I clock Dario on my way through, catching his eye as he nods in my direction. I shake my head, a silent communication to let him know that Enzo has not fucked us over, he dips his chin, acknowledging the information before turning his attention back towards the club, which is now housing more than one rowdy stag party.

I unlock the door to the private room I’d left Max in and hesitantly push it open. Instead of lying in the recovery position which I’d left him in, I notice he’s now lying across the leather couch with his knees bent up and his feet planted into the fabric, with one arm draped over his eyes while the other hangs limp across the couch edge. I walk forward and close the door behind me.

“You know for a moment there, I thought he’d fucking killed you.” I say out loud, sighing heavily as I lower myself onto the couch on the opposite side of the room.

“I almost wish that he had,” he croaks, swiping his tongue out across his lips, trying to alleviate the dryness.

“You need to tell us what you know Max, we still have no clue where Teddy is,” I explain, hoping to God that whatever information he does have helps us get a little closer to retribution, but that hope is about to be short lived. Max shifts his body slightly, obviously in an extreme amount of pain as he winces at the movement. Whoever did this wanted him dead.

“I have no idea where he is, don’t you get that?” he chokes, sucking in a large breath of air as he snaps himself up right to face me. I’m a little taken back by the horrific state of his face as he stares at me, blood and bruises cover his skin like a marbled painting, both eyes are almost completely swollen shut and his eyebrow and lip look like they could do with a few stitches. I’ve seen beaten men before, but the way his eyes bore into me, broken and almost lost is what sucker punches me in the gut. I tear my eyes from his, standing to relieve the feeling as I shake off my jacket, tossing it to the side.

“What do you mean you don’t know? What the fuck happened? Where have you been? How did you escape?” I question as I pace the room, needing the answers quicker than I can ask them. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the sudden urge to smash my fists into something, or somebody is rising by the second.

“We were asleep when four men entered the house. It was too late by the time I knew they were there. I was hit from behind and blacked out instantly. I have no idea where I was taken, all I know is that Teddy wasn’t there. I woke up hanging from the rafters in a cellar for fucksake.” He tries to take a deep breath but his ribs are obviously busted because he gives up and holds his head in his hands. “It was my father.” Max whispers, his eyes watch me carefully as I come to a stop to face him while I let the information sink in.

“Why?” was the only fathomable word I could muster, trying to understand what he was telling me.

“He wants Teddy to take over the business when he’s ready to give it up. Said he was going to turn him into everything I’m not, groom him to be the boss. He said that he left Lucille to Vinny. Wanted her dead for all he cared.”

It’s obvious that the words are only just settling in for him as he speaks them outloud but I can’t think straight, my brain is hotwiring and all I can see is Lucille on the floor with that fucker standing over the top of her about to rape her. I roar, grabbing a fistful of Max’s shirt as I haul him to his feet. My face is close enough that I can feel his strangled breath against my cheeks.

“Where the fuck are they!?” I growl, tightening the fabric of his shirt in my fists. Max pulls his head back away from me but doesn’t have the strength to put up a fight. He feebly bats at my arms trying to loosen my hold but it does nothing to deter me.

“I don’t fucking know, Lincoln!” he shouts back in my face, causing my anger to spike. He’s got to be lying. Every logical explanation tells me that he’s lying, even when his eyes are telling me something else.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” I snarl, as I drag him across the room before slamming his already broken body against the wall, pinning him up just below his neckline, he hisses loudly as the pain shoots through his body and it only infuriates me more. “How the fuck did you get out?” I snarl, pulling him forwards only to slam him back into the wall again. His eyes close for a second and I suddenly remember what the fuck I’m doing. I release his shirt, lowering him back to the floor but continuing to hold his body weight up against the wall, afraid that if I don’t support him he’ll collapse. I watch as he wills his eyes back open before shaking his head at me. His face is full of despair but I will him to go on.

“I don’t know. I was in a cellar somewhere, my father told me that he had Teddy and what he intended to do with him. He left but someone else was down there with me. The last thing I remember was a male voice threatening me not to make them regret what they were about to do. They must’ve hit me over the head and then drugged me because I woke up on the outskirts of the city. I had to know if Lucille was safe so I made my way to her apartment, hoping she’d show up sooner or later.” Fuck.

“FUCK!” I roar, balling my fists once again and slamming them into the wall either side of Max’s head. “Nothing. You’ve given me NOTHING!” I rage into his face before pushing myself away from him in case the urge to kill him becomes too much for me to handle. I stride over to the other side of the room giving myself enough distance not to let temptation drag me under but as I place my head against the wall trying to remain calm, I hear a loud thud behind me, and at the same time the door opens and an unmistakable scream pierces my ears.

I whip my body round to see Lucille running into the room towards Max, who is now lying in a heap on the floor. What the fuck? I snap my eyes to Silas who merely stands in the doorway taking in the scene before he looks at me, his eyes narrowing with a hint of a warning.

“What the fuck did you do!?” Lucille cries, bringing my attention back to her and Max on the ground. She’s shaking his body, furiously pleading with him to wake up but he’s limp and lifeless as her tears soak into his shirt.

“Silas, get her the fuck out of here,” I say calmly while inside all I want to do is vomit. He better not be dead, for fuck sake, he can not be dead this time. Silas moves quickly, pulling Lucille as she screams at us both, flailing her arms and legs at him to get free, though he makes little work of getting her back through the door. I rush forwards, falling to my knees as I check Max’s pulse point. “Fuck fuck fuck!” I curse out loud. It’s there but it’s extremely low. What am I meant to do? There is no way we can get him to a hospital. Ronan will know he’s escaped by now and be looking for blood. I wrack my brain, desperately trying to come up with an idea that will work without us having to take Max out of the building. Jesus Christ, a lightbulb practically explodes inside of my head and I’m already reaching for my phone to call in that favor.

The longest hour of my life passes as I pace the room, continuously checking to make sure Max still has a pulse. I reach for my phone again and just as I’m about to ring for an ETA on the doc a knock at the door startles me. I pocket my phone and reach for the door, opening it wide to reveal Dario who’s standing next to a slimy weasel of a man that I could happily have gone the rest of my life without ever looking at again, but he owed us for sparing his life and in this moment, I’ve never been more relieved to have let somebody live.

“You took your fucking time!” I snap, pulling him into the room by his jacket. Dario steps in behind him and closes the door.

“Yes, well you didn’t exactly give me much time to get everything I needed so it was a bit of a rush,” he remarks, dropping a large duffel bag at my feet and glaring at me with hatred in his eyes as I push him away from me and shake my head.

“Now is not the time to piss me off, Doc. It’s time to cash in on that favor for letting you live after the shit you pulled on Miss Holland.” I snarl, the memory of Cole catching this fucking waste of a man trying to drug Lucille to take her home makes me feel sick just imagining what would have happened had he not followed her that night and intercepted when he did. “Now, for your life Doctor Graves, you save his.” I direct, pointing towards Max.

Tom turns to look at Max then shakes his head. “You have got to be joking,” he startles. “He looks dead already. There’s no way I can help without taking him to a hospital. I have no idea of the severity of his wounds without running tests, and scans, and he might possibly need surgery by the look of him. I don’t have that kind of equipment here.” His voice is desperate as he looks between Dario and I, backing away from us slightly as he objects.

“If I could take him to a fucking hospital, do you think thatyouwould be here, you fucking idiot? I will get you whatever you need to patch him up. But take this as my one and only warning doctor. If he doesn’t survive, neither do you.” I warn, watching the bob of his throat as he swallows down his fear. A small smile creeps up my lips. Good, I want him to be fucking scared. Tom turns back towards Max and throws his jacket off before rolling up his sleeves one arm at a time. I watch anxiously as he opens up his duffel bag and pulls out a stethoscope and some scissors. I brace myself slightly, suddenly acutely aware that he could easily end Max’s life right now with those scissors and I would not be fast enough to stop him, even though it would be his own execution if he did. I realize I’m holding my breath as he cuts the shirt from Max’s body, revealing severe bruising across his stomach and ribs.

“Jesus Christ. We need to get him onto a table.” Tom curses while he begins to press the stethoscope across his chest, listening intently before making his way further down across his stomach.

I nudge Dario, implying for him to follow my lead. “Let’s get him into the holding room, there’s a table in there he can lie on.” I offer, hoping it will be good enough for the doctor to work around. Dario and I both kneel down and carefully place our hands underneath Max’s body, lifting his deadweight between us as we carry him out of the room to the now vacated holding room I’d questioned Enzo in not too long ago. We lower his body carefully onto the stainless steel tabletop, avoiding the metal ring in the middle as best we can.

“I’m going to need supplies, Mr Rossi. I take it you can get me those considering what you’re asking of me?” Tom questions, glaring at me as he empties the contents of his duffel bag onto the table next to Max’s body. If I didn’t desperately need his help right now I’d shove him into that fucking bag and throw him in the river.

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