I don’t even see it. He moves so fast, it’s inhuman. A single strike to my face, hard enough to make me reel and crash sideways onto the seat.
My first silly thought? I’m gonna have a nasty bruise.
I remember from reading theTruth Only I Knowblog that Anzo has a cybernetic arm. Now I know it firsthand, and yeah, it hurts like hell.
"You fucking bastard," I growl, lifting my head even though the whole world’s spinning.
Then I do something really damn stupid.
I spit. Right in his face.
For a split second, nothing.
And then it kicks in. A bolt of agony tears through me. My body’s convulsing so hard, my spine bows into a backward C. The collar! It’s electrocuting me!
I lose track of time. Of pain. Of everything. All I know is that Rocco grabs my hair and shoves my face to the floor.
"Not the face," Anzo’s voice says calmly, like it’s coming through thick soundproof glass.
A bit too late, asshole. You ruined it yourself!I want to growl back, but I can’t. My throat is squeezed.
Then Rocco kicks me. Ribs. I scream. Another kick. Hip. Another. Chest.
But the worst part is the silence. Not a single word, not a shout, not even loud breathing. Just that cold, controlled violence that lets you know they’re not angry.
They’re just doing a job they know too well.
I curl up to shield my stomach, but no more blows come.
Just quiet.
I feel the limo start to move. Its engine doesn’t hum nicely like a bike; it’s different, just vibrations, and I shiver along with it.
And that’s when I know. Everything’s changed.
My whole life just turned inside out.
Weirdly, I think of something Martin said today, that I didn’t know how to appreciate a boring life. That I kept chasing excitement.
Well, fuck me. I never meant for that void to be filled with searing pain.
Guess some lessons you have to learn the hard way.
The only mercy? I pass out soon after.
***
When I wake up, I’m lying on my back on a bed, a nice one, with a velvet cover.
There are paintings on the walls. Peaceful countryside scenes. Some Mediterranean landscapes.
There are elegant wardrobes and antique-looking dressers.
Sunlight streams through the window. I’m alone.
For a second, I have no idea where I am, but it quickly finds me. I lift a hand to my neck.
The metal collar’s still there.
