CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MY KNEES WOBBLY AND legs weak, I constantly tripped over my feet as Bradley dragged me through a large field. Tall, sharp blades of grass and straw cut my exposed skin. My teeth chattered, the sleeveless A-line dress I was made to wear not doing anything to protect against the chilly November air. The only buildings I could see for miles were the two-level farmhouse-style dwelling I’d just come from and a large warehouse-looking building a few hundred yards away. It appeared rusty, old, abandoned…isolated. I could scream and yell all I wanted. No one would hear. No one would find me.
No one was going to find me.
I drew in a shaky breath, looking at the stars above me for guidance. They twinkled against the night sky, and I wondered if this would be the last time I’d ever see them. If this would be the last time I’d breathe in fresh air, feel the breeze on my skin. My eyes floated to the half-moon. I recalled falling asleep every night for months, seeking comfort from the moon, knowing that although Dante and I were separated by miles, we could still look at the same sky, wish upon the same stars. It helped me through that difficult time in my life. I prayed it would be enough to get me through whatever awaited me now.
When we drew closer to the foreboding building, Bradley slowed his steps and pulled open the large, metal door. It creaked loudly in the ominous silence. He tugged me inside, my pulse skyrocketing, my breathing increasing the instant we crossed the threshold. It smelled like death, decay, and misery. I scanned my surroundings, my face paling. Nausea filled me as I hesitantly lifted my eyes to the ceiling. Rows of metal trellises containing hooks used to hoist up livestock for slaughter hung overhead. Long tables filled the space, blades and knives strewn on their surfaces. Ominous chains littered the dirty floor. Everything seemed old and rusty, giving the impression that this space had probably sat abandoned for years. Regardless, fresh blood stained the walls, the cement floor, the tables.
My chest seized as dozens of scenarios ran through my head. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead despite the frigid air. I felt weak, like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life play before my eyes, a thriller about a girl who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was about to meet a very painful and bloody end. I steeled myself, reminding myself to stay strong, to do everything to keep the last promise I made to my father. I had to keep that promise.
Bradley continued to pull me through the slaughterhouse, pushing me to the floor near a grate in the cement. When he withdrew a knife, I tensed up. Giving me as comforting a look as possible in this situation, he sliced the zip ties from my wrists, quickly replacing them with a pair of rusted metal shackles. I tugged against them, but the chain connecting them to the wall made escape impossible.
The desperation of my situation hit me. As much as I didn’t want that woman who claimed to be my mother to win, she had. Even if Dante had come home and was looking for me, the first person he would go to would be Bradley.
No one was coming to help me, so I had to help myself.
With pure hatred in my eyes, I glared at him, spitting onto his shoes. I expected him to hit me, to put a gun to my head, something. Instead, he refused to look at me, turning around and heading toward the door. Before he walked out, he glanced over his shoulder and gestured to a heap on the floor a few feet away from me. I followed his line of sight, feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach when my eyes raked over Dante lying on the dirty cement floor, blood staining his dingy shirt. His face was swollen, his lips dry, but I noticed a subtle hint of his chest rising and falling.
“What did you do to him?” I shrieked, a rush of adrenaline hoisting me to my unsteady feet as I used every ounce of strength to try to free myself from the chains binding me to the wall.
Bradley didn’t say a word, keeping his head downturned, his shoulders slumped. Then he left the warehouse, the ominous sound of the door locking filling the large space. Screaming, I struggled against the restraints, the metal cutting into my wrists as I did everything to break free and go to Dante, to wrap him in my arms, to kiss his face, to assure him it would be okay.
Growing dizzy, I collapsed to the floor, my throat tight from frustration, tears falling down my cheeks.
“Eleanor?” Dante’s voice cracked. He blinked, squinting through his puffy lids. He attempted to prop himself up, wincing. I wondered how long he’d been here, how long he’d been subjected to the kind of brutality that would result in his face being bloodied, bruised, and practically unrecognizable. “Is that you?”
“I’m here, baby,” I choked out, crawling as close to him as I could get. My fingers ached to reach out and touch him, to hold him, to feel his warmth.
He rolled onto his side, inching as close to me as he could manage with the chains keeping his own wrists tethered to the wall. It was torture being so close, yet just out of reach. I had a feeling that was all part of Marjorie’s plan. When he met my gaze, I could see the tears welling behind his eyes.
“Bradley?” I asked, not having to embellish any further.
He simply nodded.
“Me, too,” I replied in a small voice.
“I figured as much.” There was despondency in his tone. “I’m so sorry, Eleanor. For putting you in this position. For getting you involved in this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I insisted. “None of this is. You don’t get to shoulder the blame.”
“I tried to protect you from this. That’s why I didn’t tell you that—”
“Marjorie isn’t really my mother,” I finished, frustrated I hadn’t seen all the signs before. I wondered how long Dante knew, how long he’d kept it from me. Did it really matter anymore? “Maybe if I didn’t let my animosity toward my father cloud my brain, I would have figured it out.” I blinked back a new wave of tears. “She shot him.”
“Who?” Dante pressed.
“My dad. It was all a setup. And she killed him.”
He opened his mouth to respond just as a loud clanging echoed in the large space. I quickly straightened my spine.
“Eleanor, listen to me,” Dante whispered, an urgency in his voice, the footsteps becoming louder and more ominous as they drew closer. “No matter what happens, don’t say a word. They want to find Cynthia. That’s why they’re doing this. Don’t give up her location. No matter what. Stay strong. She can make this right, can make sure justice is served. Just stay strong.”
“How do you know I know? And who are they?” I quivered, although I already knew the answer. I guessed I just hoped Marjorie was lying, that she simply said what she had to scare me. I glanced to the group of eight men, all dressed in black, walking with determined strides toward us. One familiar face was among their ranks — Bradley. The rest were tanned, their hair black as night, an evil sort of satisfaction on their faces as their eyes raked over our chained bodies.
“Cartel,” Dante replied, his voice barely audible. My body trembled, my muscles clenching as an icy wave washed over me. “Marjorie’s been using her connections to keep a clear drug line open between Mexico and the US for these guys. They owe her, and she’s collecting.”
I gaped at him, wondering how he knew all of this, wondering if he were in on it, too.
“The upside of speaking several languages,” he explained, reading my unspoken thoughts. “That’s how I know they think you have Cynthia’s location.”
“What are they going to do?”
“Silencio,” one of the men bellowed in a rough voice, causing me to practically jump out of my skin. He gave off the impression that he was in charge. “Gringo. Javi.” He nodded, and Bradley and one of the cartel members snapped into action.
Bradley walked toward me and pulled me to my feet. Still chained to the wall, his firm grip on my biceps kept me from sinking back down. The man named Javi headed toward Dante. He grabbed him harshly, forcing him to his feet. The way Dante’s face contorted in pain made me think he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own, that the instant Javi released his hold, he’d fall to the floor.
The man in charge slowly approached Dante, who immediately tensed up.
“Leave him alone,” I begged, a soul-crushing agony ripping through me at the thought of what Dante must have endured to get him to this point. His face had been badly beaten. I wondered what other bruises weren’t readily visible. I couldn’t stomach the idea of him suffering any longer. “I’m the one who knows where Cynthia Edelman is.”
“Eleanor, no,” Dante hissed.
“That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” I pushed, my voice becoming louder. “You want me to reveal her location. He doesn’t know. You can hurt and beat him all you want, but he can’t give you information he doesn’t have. But I can. So take me. Hurt me. Just please, leave him alone.”
“You want to take his place?” the man asked in a thick Spanish accent.
“Yes,” I answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Eleanor…,” Dante groaned, a desperate plea.
“That’s good to know.” Without warning, he reeled back, using the butt of his gun to land a hard blow against Dante’s cheek, blood from the force staining the cement below him. Javi propped Dante up, preventing him from falling to the floor, keeping him ready for the next assault. The rest of the men simply looked on as if it were a game, laughing to each other, some of them puffing on cigarettes as they enjoyed the show.
“What did you do that for?” I shrieked. “I told you! I’m the one with the information!”
A sly smile crossed the man’s face as he sauntered toward me. Licking his lips, he scanned my body, my black dress dusty from the grime and dirt covering the floor. I shivered as he approached and ran a finger from my sternum, down the length of my torso. I struggled to get away, but Bradley kept me locked in place.
“I’m well aware of that,” he responded. “I’ve spoken to gringo at length about the best way to encourage you to give me what I need. You see, I only get paid upon delivery of the information regarding the girl’s location and confirmation it’s reliable. Ten million dollars is quite a nice chunk of change.”
He leaned closer to me, his nicotine-scented breath making my stomach roll. He grabbed my thigh, forcing my legs apart, my eyes widening. I shifted my gaze to Dante, panic covering his expression as he used what little strength he had left to fight against Javi.
The man looked over his shoulder, leering at Dante and licking his lips as he continued. “And while I certainly considered letting each of my men have a go…” Turning his attention back to me, he ran his hand up my leg. I squirmed and writhed as he worked his way north, lifting the skirt of my dress and giving all his men a show. Then he released his hold on me. “I knew something that would be much more persuasive.”
He retreated from me, nodding at one of the men. “Pedro. Tu turno.”
“Sí, Miguel.” A muscular man of taller-than-average height threw his cigarette onto the floor, stomping it out, then sauntered toward Dante. Javi braced himself, widening his stance in preparation. Terror covered Dante’s face, a stark juxtaposition to the smile pulling on Pedro’s lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, Pedro swung, landing several hard blows in quick succession to Dante’s stomach.
Grunting, Dante tried to bend over to prevent any further assault, but Javi kept him upright.
“Stop!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.
“We can stop at anytime,” Miguel said in a mildly condescending tone. “That’s all up to you. You give us an address, it stops.”
“Don’t say a word, Eleanor,” Dante croaked out.
Miguel lifted a brow and I remained silent. “I should tell you…,” he continued, “this is all just a warm up. It’s always best to tenderize your meat before preparing it.” He glanced back at Dante. “You’re a chef. Isn’t that right?”
“Not a word,” Dante said.
I met his gaze, conflicted. I promised my father I’d keep the information to myself, but what if I could save Dante? It was selfish, but I valued his life above anything else. “But—”
“No buts, Eleanor. Don’t you want justice for what happened to your father? To me? To you?” He swallowed hard. “She may be our only hope.”
“In my experience…,” Miguel mused, “everyone has their breaking point. I guess we just need to see where yours is.” He nodded at Pedro, who quickly resumed his assault, his vicious attack not leaving a single part of Dante’s body undamaged.
Bradley kept me locked in place, forcing me to witness every agonizing blow, every spill of blood, every tortured grunt. And as much as I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. I needed to give Dante the strength to get through this, to find meaning in the torment he endured with each new assault.
The longer it went on, the more blood pooled at his feet, the louder the cracks of his ribs, the more difficult it was for me not to yell Cynthia’s address at the top of my lungs. As if able to sense my struggle, Dante simply peered at me through his swollen eyelids, subtly shook his head, then uttered “more” for Pedro to resume his brutal attack.
I had no idea how long I watched this savagery, but I felt every single one of those punches, every single one of those strikes to his beautiful face, every single one of those blows to his stomach, more bones cracking under the sheer brutality of it all. I’d never witnessed something so horrifying, something so nauseating, something so debilitating.
“Pedro,” Miguel said after a while, his jaw tight, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Pedro stopped mid-strike and looked at Miguel, who nodded for him to return to the rest of the group of onlookers. He grabbed a towel from one of the men, wiping his knuckles free of the blood that had accumulated on them. Javi released his hold on Dante, who fell into a heap on the floor with a loud thud.
Without saying another word, Miguel met Bradley’s eyes and gestured toward the door. Bradley leaned closer to me, his grip on me tightening. I tensed up, my heart racing, the feel of his breath on my skin making me sick to my stomach.
“Go to him,” he whispered in a barely audible voice. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “Do not make a run for it. It’s a trap.” Then he released his hold on me and followed the group of men out of the warehouse.
I blinked repeatedly as I watched the door slam behind them, confused, wondering if I’d been so drugged up that I was imagining all this. Instantly, I heard the clanging of metal behind me. I looked down, seeing the shackles that had just been bound to my wrists clamber to the floor. My spine immediately straightened, my brows furrowed. My mind raced as I considered Bradley’s words. Could I trust him?
I shot my gaze to Dante, my heart shattering the instant I set my eyes on him. Rushing over, I knelt, hesitating, unsure whether I should touch him. I didn’t want to cause him any more pain, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of saying goodbye without one last kiss.
“Eleanor,” he groaned. I blew out a relieved breath, grateful he was still breathing, although I didn’t know how much longer he could endure this kind of cruelty.
“I’m so sorry, Dante. I should just tell them, then—”
With his own wrists also freed from their restraints, he grabbed my hand in his, kissing the inside of my wrist. “You can’t,” he whispered. “Lilly needs justice for what happened to her. So do the hundreds of other people who lost their lives because of that woman.” He fought to open his eyelids, wincing through the pain as he raised his hand to wipe away the tears staining my cheeks.
“But I can’t let you die,” I choked out.
He brushed my hair behind my ear and I melted into his touch, his hands cold. “I’m dead no matter how we look at this.”
Tears obscured my vision, blurring everything, my heart squeezing at the knowledge that he was right. My chest constricted, every breath painful.
“I don’t know if I can say goodbye to you again.”
“You don’t have to,” he said in a lazy voice. “Do you think I’ll ever leave you?” His mouth curved into a smile.
Despite the bruises and cuts marring his face, the sight of his smile warmed my heart. For a brief instant, I saw Dante…my Dante. The cocky man who attempted to flirt with me across the aisle on a plane. The confident man who knew how to make my body sing with the most subtle of touches. The loving man who made me feel more alive than I ever had.
“Impossible, Eleanor. I’ll always be with you, even when my heart stops beating.”
I shook my head, my world spinning, my soul disintegrating as I stared at Dante’s badly beaten body, knowing the end was near…our end was near.
“Lay down with me,” he pleaded. “I want to feel you in my arms.”
“I don’t want to cause you any more pain,” I insisted.
“You won’t.” He reached for me, groaning, his face contorting. Not wanting him to suffer any more than he already had, I lay down beside him, allowing him to drape an arm over me. I rested my head close to his lips, and he placed a soft kiss on my forehead. My body quaked with sobs, the thought of this being one of our last moments together gutting me.
“I’m sorry we don’t have forever,” I squeaked out.
“Yes, we do.” He tilted my chin up, our eyes locking. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.” He rested his hand over my heart.
“And I’ll always be here,” I repeated, placing my hand against his chest, his blood staining my flesh.
“Sempre e per sempre,” he reminded me.
“Sempre e per sempre.”
“No matter what.”
I fought against a new wave of tears. “No matter what.”
I remained completely still as I listened to the gentle drumming of his heart. I’d never been more grateful to hear that beautiful sound. I wanted every second to stretch, to slow down. There was no way of knowing what was going to happen next, when that door would open again and the inhumanity resume. I tried not to worry about that, focusing instead on the only thing that mattered. This moment. The feeling of Dante’s arms wrapped around me. The sound of his heartbeat. The warmth of his breath. I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but instead of pressing about how Bradley could have duped us all or how long he’d kept the truth of who my mother was from me, I remained quiet, not wanting our last moments together to be tainted with something that no longer mattered.
“Do you think there really is a heaven?” he asked after a while. His voice was low, sounding as if it took all the effort he had to force those words from his mouth.
I tore my head away from his chest, about to berate him, to tell him to stop thinking like that. Instead, I gave him the answer he probably needed at this moment. “I do.”
“What do you think it’s like?”
I buried my head into the crook of his neck, his normal aroma of basil, mint, and licorice long gone, replaced with the death and depravity that hung in the air, that clung to the walls, that permeated this dark place we’d found ourselves imprisoned in.
“I think it’s paradise,” I answered with a tremble in my voice, the words like a knife to my heart. I needed to say them, though, to give Dante the serenity he deserved after everything he’d been through. “A place where we no longer feel pain of any kind. I think…” I looked into the distance as I imagined what it would be like to die, to finally be at peace. “I think it’s like coming home again after being gone for a long time. I think everyone you love is waiting for you, regardless of whether they’re still living.”
“So you’ll be there?”
I inhaled a shaky breath, doing everything I could to not break down. “I will.”
“Will you be wearing that sundress you had on when you came to meet me at the Spanish Steps?”
“The sundress? Why the sundress?”
“Because it made you look like an angel.” His voice grew low, his breath coming farther apart. “I was standing at the very top of the steps by the Trinità dei Monti church. I didn’t expect you to actually show up. I stared at you as you paced in front of the fountain at the base of the steps. The way the light hit you made you seem ethereal.”
“I was so nervous,” I admitted as we continued to reminisce, trying to find comfort in a happy memory. “On the way there, I almost had the cab turn around a dozen times. Luckily for you, the driver didn’t speak much English, so he wouldn’t have understood me if I asked.”
“That is lucky for me.”
“And for me,” I offered, a brief silence settling between us.
Everything was still for a moment. No angry voices. No heavy feet stomping around the perimeter. No punches being thrown. I had a feeling it was simply the calm before the storm, but I wasn’t going to think about what kind of trouble would soon descend upon us. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t stop the tide from rolling in and washing us all out to sea.
“I bought you a ring,” his voice broke through the quiet.
“Shh,” I hushed him, covering his swollen lips with mine, kissing him. “It’s not over yet, Dante.”
“Please, Elle,” he begged, his voice strained. I peered into his eyes, unsure of what to say. He’d never called me anything other than Eleanor in all the time I’d known him. “Maybe, by some miracle we’ll both make it out of here, but in case we don’t, I want you to know what I had planned.”
I swallowed hard, no longer trying to silence him. I couldn’t deny him this, not when life slowly drained from him.
“Do you remember what I told you the day I took you to the market in Italy?”
I subtly nodded. “That you hoped the next man who asked me to marry him would give me the proposal I deserved.”
“And that was my plan.”
“Dante, I—”
He clutched my hand in his, bringing it to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss on my skin. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time I’d feel the heat of his breath on me. “I was going to wait until we were back in Italy. It only seemed fitting to start the next chapter of our life in the precise location it all began.”
I struggled to keep my chin from quivering as I listened to his beautiful baritone. “The Trevi Fountain.”
“I wouldn’t write a speech or anything. I planned to just let the moment tell me what I should say. Just like that day at the market.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I meant every single word I said then. And I’ve meant every single word I’ve said since. You are my heart, my reason for breathing, my perfect match in every sense of the word. You are my heaven and hell. My happiness and despair. My beginning…” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling, “and my end.”
Tears flowing freely down my face, I pressed my lips to his, wishing my warmth and love could breathe life back into him.
“I wouldn’t get down on one knee. Not right away anyway. I’d reach into my pocket and—”
A clattering reverberated through the warehouse, both of us jumping when it was followed by the sound of several pairs of boots, Miguel and his men reentering the open space. This time, they were joined by someone new…Marjorie. I instinctively threw myself in front of Dante, wanting to shield him from any more suffering.
“Ah, so I guess you really do love him,” Marjorie sneered in her shrill voice.
She looked out of place surrounded by all the men holding knives and guns. Her perfectly tailored light pink suit, coifed hair, and signature pearls were in stark contrast to the black clothes covering the frames of everyone else. She had the appearance of a bored housewife, not some criminal mastermind. That was probably how she’d gotten away with what she had for so long. She was the last person anyone would suspect to be involved in something like this.
“Some of the boys here hoped to have a hunt on their hands. That’s why they had Bradley undo your restraints. We’ve been taking bets on what you’d do.” She smirked. “I lost.”
When she stepped closer, I splayed my arms wide, trying to protect Dante. “Stay away from him!”
“Gladly…if you just tell me what I want to know.”
“Not a chance in hell, Marjorie,” I sneered.
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” A sadistic smirk crawled across her face as she nodded at Bradley, who headed toward me, peeling me away from Dante. Forcing me to my feet, he kept his hand firmly planted on my shoulder. I wasn’t stupid enough to try to make a run for it. It was a death wish. “Which is unfortunate because Miguel is a bit of a sadist when it comes to his victims. I, myself, prefer things to be taken care of quickly and easily, but I did tell him he could have complete control over how your boyfriend is disposed of.”
I looked toward Miguel, my stomach churning when I noticed him sharpening a large knife that looked like it had once been used to butcher livestock.
“I’m not an expert in these things, but it’s almost like he gets off on watching people suffer. I’ve seen it first-hand. With your pal, Blake, actually.” She grinned a sanctimonious smile. “It’s not pleasant. He brings them to the brink of death, then pulls back. I had to listen to his moans and pleas for a bullet in the head for five days.” She shivered dramatically. “It really made me feel for the poor sap.”
“You don’t have an empathetic bone in your body,” I spat.
She tilted her head, studying me. “My shrink used to say the same thing.” A thoughtful look briefly crossed her face, then she shrugged it off, her eyes narrowing on me once more. “Now, last chance, Ellie. Tell me where Cynthia Edelman is, or Miguel gets his way.” She gestured behind her toward where Miguel stood, sharpening his knife, each drag of his blade against the metal sharpener like a twist of barbed wire around my heart.
“Don’t say anything,” Dante muttered, his jaw tight. “You don’t get to win, Marjorie. You’ve involved too many people in this. You can’t kill all of them. Someone will eventually talk.”
“Doubtful.” She held her head high, waiting for either one of us to crack. “Well, if neither one of you will say anything…” She turned toward Miguel and grinned. “He’s all yours, amigo.”
A sneer crossed Miguel’s face as he slowly approached Dante, who tried to back away, a feeble attempt at escape. Each step Miguel took was laborious and slow, my body trembling with the unknown. I looked at Dante, my lips parting, unsure what to say to give him the encouragement he’d be okay, that it wouldn’t be that bad. But I knew it would be. All Dante did was shake his head, telling me not to say a word.
“Did I mention Miguel grew up in a family of butchers?” Marjorie mocked in a smug tone. “In fact, this was his family farm…until recently when your father ‘bought’ it,” she explained using air quotes. She leaned closer to me, her proximity making my skin crawl. “Just between you and me, I think he misses chopping up all those animals, so he satisfies that craving with his victims. That’s how he got his nickname.”
Pedro strode up to Dante, forcing him to his feet as he rescued the shackles to his wrists. Reaching overhead, he grabbed one of the hooks lining the ceiling, attaching the chains binding Dante’s wrists to it, then hoisted him so he hung perilously, a piece of meat awaiting slaughter.
I stared into his eyes, tuning everything else out. He’d always been my confident, powerful Dante. Now, slung up and chained, he looked meek. But there was a hint of clarity in his eyes, like he’d accepted his fate.
The sound of Miguel sharpening his blade echoed in the space, each slice feeling like it was cutting into my soul. A chill rushed down my spine, my fingertips icy and cold. As Miguel grew closer, he shoved the sharpener into the back of his pants and raised a knife up to Dante’s shirt. My body tensed in unison with his. His strong chin trembled, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
When Miguel made a sudden movement, I flinched, inhaling a sharp breath. I expected to see blood spilling from Dante’s abdomen. Instead, one of the buttons on his shirt clattered to the floor, followed by another, and another, until Dante’s formerly white shirt hung open.
“There are certain areas in an animal’s body that are considered kill zones,” Miguel explained in his thick Spanish accent. “Stabbing them in one of these spots is the easiest way to ensure a quick and relatively painless death. The first, of course, is the carotid artery.” With no regard for human life, he brought the knife toward Dante’s neck. He glanced back at me, pure evil filling his eyes as he seemed to get pleasure out of my reaction to him slowly drawing the blade across Dante’s throat, eliciting a pained groan.
“No!” I screamed, starting toward him, but was held back by Bradley’s strong hold. “Stop!”
“Did you really think I’d sever the carotid right away?” Miguel asked, his tone indicating his question was merely rhetorical. “That would be too easy. He’d bleed out in seconds. There’s no fun in that. I was simply marking its location. See?” He took Dante’s shirt, running it across his throat, wiping away the line of blood. “It’s a superficial wound…for now.”
He retrieved his sharpener from the back of his pants, going through the laborious process of running the blade across the metal in an obvious attempt to intimidate and scare Dante…and me. It was working. I was petrified of what was going to happen next, unsure how much more either of us could endure.
“Is it too much, Ellie?” Marjorie teased, pacing behind me. “You can put an end to it all right now. Just tell me where Cynthia Edelman is.”
“You know I can’t do that,” I replied, tears falling down my cheeks.
Marjorie looked between Dante and me, then shrugged. “You may continue, Miguel,” she said, as if she were ordering a glass of wine, not a man’s death.
“Very well.” He grinned a cold smile, running his blade against his sharpener a few more times before returning to Dante. “Right here, we have the heart.” I held my breath as he raised the blade to his skin, carving a red X over where Dante’s heart was located.
Dante clenched his fists, his face turning red as he tried not to react to the pain he was obviously suffering through. His chest heaved, his breathing labored. Tears clouded my vision as my hands shook.
“The liver is close to the heart, right about here.” Miguel brought the blade back to Dante, carving a bright red X near his ribs on the right.
As I watched Dante’s face contort from excruciating pain, I sobbed even harder, my throat too tight to draw in any meaningful breath.
“And, of course, the kidneys…” Miguel marked just below his rib cage, blood spilling down his body. “One on each side.”
He went around Dante’s back, marring his skin with another X in the same spot on the other side. Each time Miguel raised the blade, Dante grew weaker and weaker. I looked at the floor around him, seeing a small pool of blood forming, trickling down the concave floor toward one of the grates.
With each groan, each moan, each cry, my tears fell more steadily, my limbs trembling even harder. I didn’t know how much more Dante could possibly endure.
“You can put an end to this right now,” Marjorie reminded me yet again. “He doesn’t have to go through any of this. He doesn’t have to suffer this way. You can tell me where Cynthia is. He doesn’t deserve to die like this,” she taunted. “Carved up like a cadaver in med school. Don’t you love him enough to give him that?”
“No, Eleanor,” Dante exhaled, his face paling, his voice barely audible.
“There’s some less fatal areas of the body,” Miguel continued, not missing a beat. “The lungs.” Another slash of skin. Another draw of blood. Another agonizing groan. “The stomach.” Slash. Blood. Groan. “The bladder.” Slash. Blood. Groan. “But the intestines are my favorite.”
He slowly raised the knife, allowing the seconds to stretch. Dante flinched when the metal brushed against his abdomen.
“The intestines can take a direct hit.” His lips curling in the corners, he looked back at me as I braced for him to slice Dante again. I breathed a sigh of relief when he withdrew from him and paced in front of me instead. “But it won’t cause immediate death. The body will continue to function on a limited basis for hours. But the pain is excruciating as your own body poisons itself. The cause of death isn’t because of a blow to the intestines. It’s because of exsanguination, the loss of the majority of the blood.” He stopped directly in front of me. “Not the way I’d choose to die.”
In an abrupt move, he rushed toward Dante, drawing a line across his abdomen, the cut deeper than any of his previous assaults. Dante bellowed out, the screams and moans endless as blood flowed steadily from his stomach.
Sickened by the scene unfolding in front of me, I retched. Bradley loosened his hold on me and I fell to my knees, Dante’s cries cutting me open.
“Enough!” I screamed, unable to take any more of this torment, struggling to see clearly through the relentless tears falling from my eyes.
“Enough?” Marjorie bent down, leering at me. “You’re ready to tell me what I need to know?”
“No,” Dante said in a pained voice, his breathing labored. “It’s not an option. I’m dead anyway. Don’t give this to her. Not because of me.”
“What’ll it be, Eleanor?” she pushed, her face so close to mine.
I peered at Dante. “For Lilly. Please,” he begged.
As much as I hated watching him suffer, I couldn’t let it be for nothing. Meeting Marjorie’s eyes, I subtly shook my head.
“Well, then, I have another option for you to show just how empathetic I can be.” She stepped away from me and looked at Bradley, her stare turning icy. “Give me your gun.”
“Ma’am?”
“You heard me.”
A moment of hesitation passed. Bradley looked to me, then to Dante. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw the faintest hint of a nod from Dante, as if saying it was okay. It struck me as odd. Returning his attention to Marjorie, Bradley sighed, handing the pistol to her.
“Go ahead.” She grabbed my elbow and hoisted me back to my feet. “End it.” She gestured toward Dante as she shoved the gun into my hand.
I studied the heavy weight, my mouth growing dry. “End it? How?”
“Use that brain of yours, Ellie. If you refuse to end your boyfriend’s suffering by telling me where Cynthia is, you can do so by putting a bullet in him.”
I shot my eyes back to hers, my pulse skyrocketing. My legs shook as I struggled to maintain the little strength I had left.
“Or we can all stand here and watch him slowly die.” She looked to Miguel. “How long did it take Blake to finally die?”
“Five hours.”
She turned back to me. “Do you want to watch him suffer for five more hours?”
“I’m not going to do your dirty work for you,” I bit out as my stomach rolled, bile rising in my throat. I hated the thought of Dante enduring any more brutality, but how could I be the one to end it?
“Are you sure about that?”
I swallowed hard, looking at Dante. His chest heaved, agony visible on every inch of him. Blood streamed from his abdomen. There was no surviving that wound without immediate medical attention. He’d bleed out soon, but how soon? How long could I make him suffer unimaginable pain? How long could I listen to his moans and pleas for relief?
“It’s okay, Elle.” He briefly closed his eyes, his complexion as white as a ghost, the life draining from him with every strangled breath. I continually shook my head, tears streaming from my eyes. “Game over.”
His words hung in the air between us, a chill washing down my spine. “Dante, I—”
“Please. It’s too much. I need you to do this. I can’t… It’s too much.” He closed his eyes, struggling for air. “I know I’m not making it out of this. I’ve made my peace with God.” He met my eyes, his voice low, pained. “I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to be with Lilly.”
My chin quivered as I listened to his words.
“I’ll see you there, amore mio,” he reminded me. “I’ll see you in your white sundress, my beautiful angel. And we’ll spend our days among the vines, making love at sunset.”
I continued shaking my head, every inch of my body trembling. I hated the idea of saying goodbye, of admitting this was over, of being the one to end it.
“Sempre e per sempre, my beautiful Eleanor. Please. Let me go. I beg you. Make it stop hurting.”
I returned my eyes to his. “Sempre e per sempre,” I replied, drawing strength from the pledge we made to each other back in Italy, the same pledge we continued to make to each other nearly every day.
“No matter what.”
“No matter what,” I repeated, the seconds stretching, every sound amplified as I raised the gun with a shaky hand. I tuned out everything else… The satisfaction crossing my mother’s face. The background noise of conversation and sinister laughter while the show of the century played out in front of this group of sadistic people. The half-dozen pairs of eyes glued to me as I hesitantly pointed the gun at the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, the man who would father my children, the man I’d never stop loving.
My chest rose and fell in a quicker pattern, the sound of my breathing echoing in my ears. Dante kept his eyes glued to mine, not looking away, telling me without words this was the right path, that he couldn’t withstand any more torment. Then he began to pray in a low voice.
“Ave, o Maria, piena di grazia. Il Signore è con te. Tu sei benedetta fra le donne e benedetto è il frutto del tuo seno, Gesů. Santa Maria, Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori, adesso e nell’ora della nostra morte. Amen.”
“God won’t save you now,” Marjorie sneered, but that did nothing to dissuade him. He continued, switching to the English version of the prayer.
“Hail Mary, full of Grace. The Lord is with thee.”
Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I knew the verses to this, so I joined in, both of us praying as I continued to point the gun at him. I hoped our gesture to God would cause some sort of divine intervention.
“Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”
We continued muttering the same prayer over and over. I noticed some of the men standing off to the side grab a cross necklace out of their shirts, kissing it.
After uttering those lines for the third or fourth time, Dante gave me a reassuring nod, falling silent. Seconds stretched. My hand itched with the weight it carried. My heart thumped against my chest.
“Just get on with it already,” Marjorie huffed, pushing me.
I stumbled on my unsteady legs, taking a moment to right myself, then returned my finger to the trigger. I met Dante’s eyes, trying to imprint everything about the way he looked at me to my memory, knowing it would be the last time I’d ever see it. I hated the idea of doing this, of saying goodbye, but we weren’t making it out of this. I couldn’t let him suffer. I knew the course I needed to take. And Dante was right. He would see me again. I would make certain of that.
“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace,” he said once more, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Please, Elle. The pain… Make it stop. Please.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I slowly raised the gun again, everything seeming blurred and unfocused…except for that gun. The gun that would tear us apart. And the gun that would reunite us again.
Applying more pressure, I flinched when a loud shot pierced the empty space. I looked down at the pistol in my hand, then at Dante, confused. Instantly, all hell broke loose as Bradley tackled me to the floor, covering my body with his. The sound of rapid percussive shots echoed throughout the building.
“Stay down,” he ordered, then jumped up, moving quickly.
I lifted my head to see Miguel and his men rushing toward the entrance as the entire place filled with agents wearing FBI vests, who fired at the half-dozen cartel members with incredible precision.
Unsure what was going on, I remained frozen in place, bewildered as I witnessed cartel member after cartel member slump to the ground. Gunshots blended together and reverberated against the walls as the FBI methodically took out every last one. When I felt a pair of arms around me, I jumped.
“It’s all right. It’s just me,” a familiar voice said.
I looked up, furrowing my brow. “Steven?”
“You’re okay, Ellie.” Relief covered his expression as he pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “You’re okay,” he breathed. It sounded like he said that more for his benefit than mine.
“It was Marjorie,” I managed to say, spying Bradley securing a pair of zip ties around her wrists.
“I know.” He wrapped a blanket around my body as I kept my eyes glued to Marjorie.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed, struggling against Bradley. “I hope you kissed your daughter goodnight because you’ll never see her again.”
With incredible speed, he retrieved a knife he had hidden beneath his pant leg and raised it to her throat, his face reddening, every muscle in his body seeming to tighten. A new wave of nausea formed in my stomach when I remembered what he’d said to me when I’d first gotten here, that he did it all to keep his daughter safe. He really was just a pawn in Marjorie’s game, too.
“If I didn’t want you to suffer in prison every day for the rest of your life, I’d slit your throat right now, you pathetic excuse for a human. But I won’t. Because you need to pay. You need to spend every day looking over your shoulder, praying someone isn’t coming after you, praying someone isn’t lurking in the shadows. You need to know what it feels like to suffer through what we have for months, years!” He handed her off to an agent, then fell to the floor, exhaustion from everything he’d been forced to endure seeming to finally take its toll on him.
Still dazed and having difficulty processing what was going on, I looked back at Steven. “How did you know?”
“James.” He gestured a few feet away.
I followed his line of sight to where James Harrison stood, watching as paramedics attached an IV drip to Dante’s arm, concern and regret visible in every line of his face. “Oh god. Dante.” I immediately snapped out of my shock, stumbling to my feet.
“Hold on, Ellie,” Steven said, trying to keep me back, but I slipped out of the blanket he’d wrapped around me, rushing to Dante’s side as he was transferred to a stretcher.
“Eleanor,” Dante’s voice croaked out the instant I clutched his hand in mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I offered, kissing his dry lips, his cheeks, his nose, everywhere I could. Paramedics hastily checked his vitals, shouting orders left and right as they prepared to roll him out of there.
“Stop apologizing,” he managed to say.
“I almost killed you, Dante.”
“But you didn’t. Everything happens for a reason,” he said, his voice becoming lazy from what I assumed to be the pain medication he was given. “Fate knew our time wasn’t up yet. It was in the cards.”
I smiled as tears of relief streamed down my cheeks, keeping his hand enclosed in mine, even when the paramedics began rolling him out of the warehouse. Insisting all their attention and resources be devoted to Dante, I stubbornly refused any medical treatment as I kept up with the EMTs, barely paying any attention to the bodies lying around me.
We rushed to a waiting ambulance. Within seconds, the driver sped out of where I thought I would take my last breath. I peered out the back window, vindication filling me as I observed Marjorie being forced into the back of a waiting police cruiser, lights flashing.
“Now do you believe in fate?” Dante managed to say.
I returned my gaze to his, squeezing his hand just as it went limp. I brought it to my lips. “I have since I met you.” I closed my eyes, fighting back the tears as paramedics shouted frantic orders to each other, pushing me out of their way. “You can’t leave me now. Please, Dante. Don’t leave me now. You promised. Sempre e per sempre. No matter what.”