I turned toward Short Guy and smiled. The audience roared. They knew that smile. The look in my opponent’s eyes was familiar: panic and horrified realization. I stalked toward him, and he raised his fists. I feigned an attack, causing him to stumble back. I chuckled. This was going to be fun. I lunged at him, kicking and punching hard without mercy. The cries of the crowd and the fucking whimpers of my opponent spurred me on, but the fucking hollowness in my chest remained. I kicked him over and over again until everything was red. When he didn’t even twitch anymore, I let up.
The other guy had his back turned to me and was shaking the cage door, wanting out.
“No one’s going to open that door. If you want out of this cage, you’ll have to kill me.”
Big Guy turned, face swollen and bloody. He tried his best. Soon I had him in a choke hold, and then I smashed his face against the cage. Once. Twice, and then over and over again. I couldn’t fucking stop. I needed to crush something.
“Remo.”
Smash.
“Remo!”
Smash.
A hand gripped my shoulder and ripped me backward. I released the bloody pulp and stared at Nino. His face was splattered with small red dots. Blood.
I glanced down at myself then at the floor. It was silent in the arena and everyone was staring at me in open horror.
“I won,” I muttered.
Nino shook his head. “Come.”
I followed him out of the cage and toward the changing room. The crowd parted even wider. The stench of vomit hung heavy in the air. Griffin was pressing a fucking tissue over his mouth.
Inside the changing room, I stripped off my drenched fight shorts, leaving a red trail on the ground as I stepped inside the shower. The hot water remained red for a long while, and Nino watched me the entire time from his spot on the bench, his elbows propped up on his thighs.
“Like what you see?”
He didn’t say anything, and it was starting to piss me off.
Grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. “Say what you’ve got to say.”
Nino regarded me with a small frown. “Is this because of Serafina? Do I have to worry?”
My lips pulled wide. “I don’t have a heart that can be broken, Nino. Stop the fucking hovering.”
“She won’t come back to you, Remo. She’ll try to find her way back into the Outfit where she thinks she belongs. If you wait for her to come to you freely, you’ll be met with disappointment.”
I bent low, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care if she comes back or not. There are whores to fuck, Outfit bastards to kill, and the fucking Bratva to piss off.”
I got dressed in the pants Nino handed me. Then we left. Part of the crowd had already left, the others were whispering quietly. Nino led me toward the booth, but only Savio was there, and he regarded me like I had risen straight from Hell. “Where is everyone?”
“Well,” Savio muttered. “Kiara and Adamo are probably busy throwing up, and Fabiano and Leona went outside with them to keep watch.”
Nino’s frown deepened at the mentioning of Kiara. We headed outside and found them all in the parking lot beside our cars. Adamo sat on the hood of Nino’s car, smoking. Kiara was bent over behind the trunk, heaving, and Fabiano had his arm wrapped around Leona’s shoulder, who looked a little faint.
Nino went over to his wife and rubbed her back.
Fabiano shook his head. “What the hell, Remo?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve seen me do worse. We tortured together.” And after what he’d done to his father, he really had no business being shocked by me losing control.
Savio snorted. “We’ve all seen you torture, but you never lost control like that. Take a look at the video footage and if your expression doesn’t scare even you shitless then I don’t know what to say.” He went over to Adamo and took the cigarette from him, taking a deep pull.
“You don’t smoke,” Adamo grumbled.
“I need to get rid of the vomit taste in my mouth.”
“Don’t tell me you threw up as well,” I said.
Savio cocked his eyebrow. “No. But when people around me started ejecting their food, I could practically taste it in my mouth.”
I felt Fabiano’s eyes on me and met his gaze, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Adamo couldn’t meet my eyes, and I didn’t have the necessary patience tonight to deal with him. Maybe tomorrow. Nino finally managed to calm Kiara, who leaned into him, pale and sweaty. She locked eyes with me. It wasn’t disgust or fear I saw in her gaze but compassion and understanding, and it sent a new wave of rage through me.
“Keys,” I ordered, holding out my hands to Nino.
He shook his head. “You’re not driving anywhere right now.”
“Give me the fucking keys,” I growled.
“No.”
“I can drive you,” Adamo quipped.
I slanted a look at him. Of course he’d come with his new car, and of course he wasn’t sitting on its hood. Nino nodded, as if I needed his fucking permission to get into Adamo’s car.
“Then let’s go, kiddo,” I muttered.
Adamo hopped off Nino’s car, threw away his stub, and got into his Mustang. The moment I sank down into the passenger seat and closed the door, Adamo shot out of the parking lot. “Where do you want to go?”
I rubbed my temple. “I want to kill and maim but now that I have you to keep an eye on, that won’t fucking happen.”
“I think I’m meant to babysit you tonight. Nino’s worried,” Adamo said.
I shook my head. “Fucking nuisances, all of you.”
“You scared the shit out of me tonight.”
“I hope that wasn’t the first time or I’m doing something wrong.”
“I’ve been scared of you before. When you sent Fabiano after me because of the cocaine. But today I was kind of scared for you.”
“Trust me, Adamo, you have absolutely no reason to be scared for me.”
Adamo frowned. “Is it because of her?”
My brothers seemed intent to test the limit of my patience. “Shut up and drive.”
“Where?”
“Home. Just take us home.”
SERAFINA
Mom and I sat in the garden on a swing, enjoying a warm fall day. I’d been back for only two days, and it was the first time Mom and I were really alone. Our feet gently kicked the ground to keep the swing in motion. Mom held my hand, peering up at the sky.
I knew she had questions but couldn’t ask them, and I wasn’t sure if I could give her answers.
“Why did you give Sofia to Danilo?” I asked eventually to say something.
“It’s not what we wanted, not what Danilo wanted, but we need to bind our families. It’s what’s expected,” Mom said. “And he’s a decent man.”
“You said the same words to me on my wedding day.”
Mom paled but managed a small nod. “I wanted to take away your fears.”
“I know.”
Her blue eyes held mine, filling with anguish. She touched my cheek. “I wanted only the best for you. I wanted happiness. I wanted a man who would carry you on his hands, who showed you kindness like your father did to me.” She looked away briefly, gathering herself. “I can’t imagine the horrors you lived, Fina, but I wish I could have suffered them in your stead.”
“Mom,” I whispered. “It’s not like you all think. I didn’t suffer the way you believe. Remo didn’t force me.”
“Your father didn’t allow me to see the video where he cut you, but I saw the sheets. I see the marks on your throat. Don’t make light of your suffering to make me feel better, love. Don’t.”
She cradled my face, her eyes fierce, determined. She, too, would never understand the extent of my betrayal. My family needed me to be the victim in this.
I wanted to belong, wanted to be part of the Outfit again, but every passing day, it became more obvious that part of me had stayed in Vegas with Remo. People were talking. They did it behind closed doors mostly, but I caught the pitying glances of the bodyguards and maids. All my life people had regarded me with admiration and respect, and now I was someone to pity. They didn’t know I wasn’t the victim, not in the sense they all thought.
And I had been shielded from attention so far. I hadn’t left the house, hadn’t attended any social gatherings, but eventually I’d have to make an appearance or the speculations would rise even higher. I needed to show them that I wasn’t hiding, that I had no reason to hide.
More than three months since Remo had kidnapped me. More than four weeks since he’d set me free—body not soul. Sometimes I managed to forget him for a few minutes, only to be reminded with a crushing force, but it was getting better. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Remo’s brainwashing was ceasing. Maybe I could be free one day.
Today my family would return to the public, would show strength, would show that we weren’t broken, that I wasn’t. It was Dad’s fiftieth birthday, and the party had been planned for almost a year, a splendid feast with family and friends, with Underbosses and Captains.
My parents had considered calling the party off, but I had convinced them to celebrate. Life had to go on.
Dante, Valentina, and the kids were staying with us as well, and I was excited to see them again. I busied myself helping Mom prepare for the party these last few weeks, needing to distract myself, trying to ignore the nagging fear at the back of my head that grew louder every day.