Vincenzo grabs Dutch by the hair, hauling her off the bed, the gun never leaving her temple. His face is red with fury as he glares back at me. “So, there is something between you. I shouldn’t have listened to The Duke.” He shakes her roughly, making her cry out and slap at the hand in her hair. “You have defiled yourself with this animal? You were made to be mine! I would give you everything, make you my queen. You yell at me and push me away, but would take him? Look at him! He’s nothing, a nobody.”
“You’re a fucking sick freak!” Dutch hisses back, still struggling against his hold on her. “I’m your daughter. You talk of Cruz being an animal? At least he’s not an incestuous bastard that wants to rape his own daughter!”
Vincenzo’s face turns an alarming shade of purple. “I’m terribly disappointed in you, Daniella. I think it’s time you learned some things about this world. I’m sure you’ll be most agreeable once we’ve finished.”
Almost faster than I can track, he moves the gun from Dutch’s head and points it at me. The pain hits me before the sound of the gunshot does, and I fly backward, landing heavily on my back.
“No!” Dutch screams. “Stop! I’ll do what you want. Don’t hurt him!”
Vicious laughter rings throughout the room. “Look how fucking easy it is. You’re as pathetic as your mother was. Love is weakness. It paints a target on your back and destroys you. You’re better off without it.”
He drags Dutch past me, toward the torture room. I breathe against the pain and pull myself to my feet, staggering once before I right myself. The bullet is lodged in my shoulder. It hurts like a bitch but won’t kill me.
The door at the top of the stairs opens, and four guards run down, aiming their guns at me, screaming at me to get down. Where the fuck did they come from? Vincenzo laughs, pulling a keychain with an alarm button on it. He waves it at me, then sticks it in Dutch’s face.
“See? One little button and my army comes running. Where’s yours, Daniella? Back wherever you left them, scratching their heads over your disappearance. They’ll never find you here.” Dutch says nothing, just turns her face away.
Vincenzo continues to gloat as he attaches her to the metal grate. Once she’s securely fastened, he turns to one of the guards. “Get that bullet out of him,” Vincenzo demands, and the man runs up the stairs, coming back with a first aid kit. “After all, we can’t have you bleeding out yet, now can we?” The guard gets to work on me, painfully digging the bullet out while I grit my teeth, refusing to give Vincenzo the satisfaction of a reaction. Once the bullet hole has been sewn up and bandaged, Vincenzo commands, “Strap him into that chair. Let him watch as I retrain her to be the Gianelli she was born to be.”
My eyes narrow dangerously at him, but I comply. I can’t fight against four armed men. I sit down in the chair that looks as if it’s straight out ofThe Silence of the Lambs. It has a high back and cuffs for my neck, hands, and feet. I won’t be getting out of this by myself.
Where the fuck is The Duke?
The Duke
I didn’t have to worry about the guard Cruz threw down the stairs, he was dead when he hit the bottom. I’ve been watching through the crack in the door since he disappeared through it and flinch when the gunshot goes off.
There may be some tools on the wall down here, but there isn’t anything I can do about a gun. My fingers stroke up and down the whip Cruz was using to draw out the guards. Running the numbers through my mind, I come up with a way that might see me in favor—until the other guards come racing down the stairs.
Fuck!
I watch helplessly as Cruz is strapped to the chair and Dutch to the metal grate. Vincenzo spins toward Cruz, his brows lowered. “How did you get out of your cell?” he demands. Cruz just glares at him, saying nothing. Vincenzo comes up to him, pressing the gun to his head. “How did you get out?” he screams.
“I found a piece of metal in my cell. I used it to pick the lock.”
“Bullshit!” Vincenzo yells, digging the gun into Cruz’s temple. “Those cells were spotless.”
Cruz works his mouth, the metal toothpick I gave him earlier today sliding out of it. Vincenzo grabs it, his mouth curling in disgust as he wipes the saliva off it onto his jeans. “As I said, I found it.”
“What about The Duke?”
“What about her?”
Letting the door close gently, I start backing down the stairs. Leaving the guard’s body lying in a heap at the bottom, I scurry back to my cell, locking the door and slipping the manacles back on. I climb onto the cot and close my eyes.
Just in time, it seems, as I can hear two sets of footsteps pounding down the stairs. One exclaims over the body of their fellow guard, but the other comes this way. He rattles his gun against the bars, laughing maliciously when the women cry out in fear.
“Which one of you is The Duke?” he calls out, waving his fingers at one of the women.
Clearing my throat, I raise my hand, the chime of the chains dangling from my wrists loud in the room. He saunters over to me, twirling his gun around his finger like he’s a bigshot. You just know he’s not packing anything impressive in the pants department.
He rattles my door, checking it’s locked, and peers at the manacles around my wrists. “Open your mouth,” he commands, and I do it. The tiny tweezers are tucked between my cheeks and gums and can’t be seen with my mouth open. He slaps the bars one last time, then heads back up the stairs with his friend.
Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I don’t like to imagine what Vincenzo is going to do to Dutch and Cruz, and Cruz has already been shot. It may not be too serious, but he is bleeding.
After waiting for several minutes, I unlock myself again and creep up the stairs. Peering through the door, I notice the guards are gone. Vincenzo is talking, but quieter now, and I can’t make out everything he’s saying.
“... I’ll be watching … Cruz can … suffer … you will … my wife …”
