Doe
It was dark. He was quiet. Too quiet.
Before we left the estate, he only said one thing. “Do not doubt me.” That was it. Nothing else.
The entire way, he kept his focus on the road in front of us. Every now and then I would glance his way, taking in his stark features. Antonio was a beautiful man. A powerful man. Even as I grew more confident around him, he had a presence that still demanded my submission. I often found myself wondering what a gorgeous, rich, alpha-dominant man like him saw in a plain woman like me. But I chose not to question it since every one of his actions only confirmed his feelings for me.
He was possessive, and not afraid to show it. Protective, and brave enough to stand against anyone who threatened those he loved. But he was also dark, wicked, and confident enough to not apologize for it. Antonino was every ounce the king I grew to love with every fiber of my being.
I looked out the passenger side window, staring at the two SUVs which had been following us ever since we left the house. There were two in front of us as well. Ever since the night at the club, Antonio had been like a pissed-off lion, roaring orders and making sure every security measure had been put in place when it came to me and my safety. I appreciated it. But I hated that so many lives now revolved around me.
Karina and Lorik had put their wedding on hold. Dante, Layla, and Rafe couldn’t be together as a family. And Lucio—well, I didn’t think it bothered Lucio so much since he seemed to be the type who lived off adrenaline and danger. But still. I hated that my presence had affected the Valenti family in such a way.
We came to a stop in front of what seemed like an abandoned warehouse. It seemed familiar.
Antonio turned to face me. “Do you know where we are?”
I stared out the window, scanning the building left to right, top to bottom. Nothing. “I’m not sure.”
“This is where it all started. Where we found you.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “Or maybe it’s where you found me.”
For a single moment, I got lost in his eyes. I wanted to drown in them. Drown in him. It was so new to me, this feeling of not caring whether a man destroyed me. Ruined me. I would go down in flames willingly if it meant being burned by him.
He rubbed his fingers across his jaw then took a deep breath. He seemed nervous, and that made me nervous. But I remained silent, waiting, anticipating.
Finally, he relaxed back in his seat, fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “The night your mother died, there were four men.”
“Three.”
“No.” His eyes met mine. “There were four.”
I shook my head. “No, there were three men.”
“No, Doe.” His eyes pinned me to my seat. “There were four men that night. Four men came into your home to kill your mother.”
My heart slowly crept up my throat, my gut heavy and turned upside down. “There were three men. I saw four bodies that night, and one of them was my mother.” The memory burned my insides, pain and grief tightening around my lungs. “Four bodies. There were four bodies when that man carried me out of that house.”
Antonio looked away, out the front window, and nodded. “You’re right. There were four bodies.”
“Then how—” When he turned back to look at me, I narrowed my eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there were four men. But only three of those four men died along with your mother that night.
I held my breath. I couldn’t breathe. There was something clawing at my lungs, making it impossible to get air down my throat. Nothing he said made sense. I remembered that night like it was yesterday. Images of the dead bodies were still fresh in my head, and if I allowed it, my thoughts could easily travel back, make me relive every single second of it all. But I chose not to. I hadn’t allowed myself to go back there in so long. Getting raped and tortured wasn’t even as painful as reliving the memory of the worst night of my life.
I finally managed to take a deep breath and squared my gaze on Antonio. “I only remember three men.”
He nodded. “I know. But there were four. He let one of them go.”
“Who did?”
I noticed him squeeze the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white, the veins in his hands bulging from the pressure. “The man with the cross tattoo.” His words were coated with venom, the outline of his face turning to stone. “The fucker who saved you, only to send you to hell anyway.” He lifted his hand, balling his fist wanting to slam it against the steering wheel. But his jaw clenched, and he pulled back, visibly trying to calm down.
“Antonio, what’s going on? What are you saying?”
He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened his car door. “Don’t get out until I open your door.”
I wanted to repeat my question, but he slammed his door shut before I was given the chance.
In the thirty seconds he took to talk to his men outside the car, scanning the area, and finally opening my door, my mind had managed to spin in a thousand different directions at once. Nothing about what he said made any sense, no matter how hard I tried to figure it out.
Four bodies. There were four bodies, and one belonged to my mother. But now…what the hell? Were there four men? Did my supposed angel let one of them go? Why?
“Get out.” Antonino’s voice was hard, demanding, and I obeyed immediately.
Within seconds, we were inside the warehouse, and the door behind us was closed with a thud and the click of a lock.
Before my eyes had time to adjust to the dark, Antonio grabbed my wrist and pushed me up against a wall, the cold spreading down my back. His hand hovered over my necklace, his wild spice cologne surrounding me, making me appreciate every breath.
“I have one more rule.”
“What rule?”
Slowly, my eyes started to adjust, his face becoming clearer. His eyes were pinned on me, dark and serious. “Outside of the bedroom, you do what you want. You do what feels right. Do not doubt your instincts.”
“That’s a broad rule that covers quite a lot.”
“I’m serious, Doe.”
“I know. And it’s scaring me. You’re scaring me.”
His grip on my arm tightened, lifting my shoulders. “Never be scared. Never show fear.”
I searched his face, wishing it wasn’t hidden behind the shadows of darkness. I wanted to see him clearly, to look at his face to find some sort of clue as to what was going on.
“Remember,” he started as he dragged his thumb down my lips, “I said outside of the bedroom.”
Someone cleared his throat behind us.
Antonio stilled, and I saw Lucio standing a few feet away. “You ready?” he asked, and I noticed the blood on his shirt. My heart pounded against my ribs so hard it felt like it was about to rip from my chest.
Antonio took a step back and held out his hand. “Do not doubt your instincts.”
The way he stared at me, his eyes shining in the dark, he seemed excited…proud. Almost as if he had been waiting for whatever was about to happen for a very long time. But what? What was about to happen?
Cautiously, I placed one foot in front of the other. I did feel safe with Antonio, always. But there was this prickle of warning at the back of my neck, crawling down my spine. The further we walked, the more humid it became, the air making my skin feel clammy. The air felt stuffy, dusty, and I struggled to take one satisfying breath. Clearly, this warehouse wasn’t well ventilated, or maybe it was just abandoned and nobody cared about fucking fresh air.
We passed about six or seven men, each standing with their guns in hand.
I stepped closer to Antonio, needing to feel him. He had become my greatest source of security. Being near him, close to him, made me feel safe. Untouchable.
As we rounded the corner, I balked at the scene in front of me. It was a man, locked inside a steel cage, naked and filthy. The cage was small enough for him to be seated on a chair, his arms bound behind his back, ankles tied together.
“Antonio, what is this?”
Without stopping, he clutched my hand tighter, and only when we came within three feet of the cage did he finally answer. “Doe, meet Renato Da Silva.”
“I don’t understand.” I looked at him in question, my mind spinning with nothing but incoherent thoughts.
Antonio started to walk slowly, step by step, pacing around the steel cage, never taking his eyes off Renato. “He was there.”
“Where?”
“In your house. In your home.” More pacing. “While you were hiding beneath your bed, hearing your mother’s pleas, her screams—”
My heart thudded against my ribs, the memory causing my lungs to tighten.
“—this man was in your house, along with the other three men.”
I shook my head. “No. No. That can’t be right.”
“Your supposed angel,” he said it with a sneer, “let this one go. I’m not exactly sure why this one got a free pass, but the man who killed the other three men decided this one deserved to live.” Antonio stopped, looking straight at Renato with nothing but hate.
I narrowed my eyes when I turned to look at the man caged in behind the steel. “Why would you—”
“Don’t bother, Doe. The fucker doesn’t talk.” He looked my way. “I cut out his tongue.” He glanced back at Renato. “And then I had it stitched up again so the bastard doesn’t bleed to death.”
In shock, my feet feeling like they had been cemented to the floor, all I could do was stare at the man sitting in front of me. One would think the mere thought of a severed tongue would make my stomach turn, but it didn’t. I felt…nothing.
The lamp that hung from the ceiling cast a light over the cage, the gold specks in Renato’s green eyes illuminated, yet there was no mistaking the fear. The panic. The pain. Just like I felt the night my mother was murdered.
“Tell me,” I said to Antonio without tearing my gaze from Renato. “Tell me everything.”
Antonio stepped in beside me, his tall frame and heavy presence shielding me, strengthening me. “For some reason, the man who killed the other men let this one go. I don’t know why. Probably an associate or close relative. What I do know is,” he pointed towards the cage, “this motherfucker right here was the one who slit your mother’s throat.”
Red. That was all I saw.
Hate. That was all I felt.
Every inch of my spine went as cold as ice, my body heavy and my mind a war zone. Within a split second, I was transported back to that night when a ten-year-old girl hid beneath her bed. Scared. Afraid. So fucking afraid.
The sound of her mother’s pleas burned through her ears while her heart wanted to break out of her chest. Every breath ached. Every second felt like a lifetime, and all she could do was pray for the bad men to leave. But they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t leave.
“How…” I cleared my throat. “How do you know he was the one?”
Antonio stepped in between me and the cage, forcing me to look at him. “I knew it before he admitted it.”
“How did you—”
“A man like me has a lot of resources, Doe.”
Silence ensued while Antonio and I kept our gazes locked. One thing I could say with all honesty was that I trusted him. I trusted the man before me. I trusted him with my life. There was no rhyme or reason to it, only the complete certainty of the faith I had in the man who tore me from the clutches of hell.
Antonio stepped closer, his voice low. “The last thing he said before I cut out his tongue was ‘I sliced that cunt’s throat.’ I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to kill him so badly, the only thing I could do to stop myself was to fucking mutilate him in the most painful fucking way.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why? Why didn’t you kill him?”
Dark eyes searched mine, the air around us laden with tension. “Because the kill isn’t mine to make.”
My heart stopped. Our gazes locked. Reality ceased to exist. It was just me. It was just him. And then there was the heaviest, yet the most bittersweet moment of clarity. This was why Antonio brought me here. This was what he meant the other night when he said I was ready for revenge.
This was my revenge.
Renato Da Silva was mine to kill.
I reached up to my necklace, feeling the metal against my fingertips. The blade was there, a mere click away.
Antonio’s gaze dropped to my hand, and I was sure I saw the corners of his mouth twitch. “I kept him for you, Doe. I kept him here for weeks. I wanted to make sure you were ready. I wanted you to realize for yourself how much strength was coursing through your veins.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “And the other night, at Vertigo. The way you protected my sister, killing that man with not a single ounce of remorse, I knew you were ready.”
My fingers kept stroking across my necklace, my mind hazy yet clear. It was difficult to explain, the way I felt. My heart was beating at a nervous pace, yet the thought of killing this man—the man who killed my mother—made my spine tingle. I felt it in every fiber of my being, just how fucking right it was for me to do this. For me to finally take what was mine.
Revenge.
Antonio leaned forward, his warm lips brushing against my cheek. “Take yourself there, Doe. Take yourself back to that night. Be that little girl who hid beneath the bed. See it. Feel it. Embrace it.” His grip on my shoulders tightened, and I closed my eyes. “Take your blade, get out from underneath that bed, and go spill the blood needed to avenge your mother’s death.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. I was there. I was that little girl once more. I allowed the memory to suck me in, to swallow me. To let me feel everything I felt that night.
Fear.
Panic.
Dread.
Pain.
But I grabbed hold of the anger, and I held on to it. Like fuel to a fire, I allowed the anger to burn like the flames of hell inside me. I smelled the blood. I fucking saw the thick, red liquid reach for me. And I remembered what it felt like to watch the life drain from my mother’s eyes.
With a click, I held the blade in my hand, opened my eyes, and glared over Antonio’s shoulder to where the mute bastard sat, waiting, anticipating, wondering what I was about to do.
It felt good having that power. Having the power to provoke fear, to stir panic.
I gave a step forward, and Antonio called out, “Lucio, open the gate. Bring the fucker out.”
The creak of steel hinges echoed through the otherwise empty warehouse. The gate opened, and the closer I walked to the man I now knew tore my mother’s life from her body, the wider his eyes grew. Lucio pulled him and the chair he sat on out of the cage.
Panic-stricken and scared, Renato shook his head, his eyes almost bulging from his skull. They were wild, filled with fear. But he couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t beg. He couldn’t plead. A part of me wished he could. I wanted him to hear him beg me to spare his life, the way my mother begged him.
While I slowly walked toward him, I flicked the pad of my thumb across the blade. It stung. It burned. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was giving this man what he so much deserved.
The closer I came to him, the more he struggled against his bounds. The ropes around his arms and legs were cutting into his flesh, smears of blood coating his raw skin.
It happened so fast, the swing of my arm and the flick of my wrist. And then blood oozing from a gaping cut in his cheek.
The sounds that came out of his mouth were both horrifying and satisfying. Without a tongue, he couldn’t scream. It was only grunting sounds of pain that came from the back of his throat, tears streaming down his face.
“Did you look her in the eye?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Did you look my mother in the eye when you sliced her throat?”
The only answer I got was the look of fear in his green eyes. My mind was still stuck in the past, still reliving that night. And while I remembered the blood, and the fear, and the utter horror of that ten-year-old girl, I circled Renato, watching while tears streamed down his face. His cheeks were sunken, his naked shoulders bony. It was obvious that he had been starved while Antonio and Lucio kept him here.
Good.
As I passed behind him, I dragged the blade from his right shoulder blade all the way to the left. Blood oozed out of his skin, escaping like teardrops down his back. It was poetic, actually, his body sobbing with tears of blood.
I had forgotten about Antonio and Lucio being there. In my mind, it was just me and the devil who took my mother away from me.
I stilled in front of him and watched as the blood from his cheek dripped onto his naked chest. It was fucking liberating.
“Look at me,” I ordered, but he kept shaking his head. The hate inside me took over, and I launched forward, reaching out, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back, forcing him to look at me.
With the tip of my blade pressed beneath his ear, I leaned closer, wanting to smell the scent of his blood. “I want you to look me in the eye while I dig my blade into your skin, slicing your throat from ear to fucking ear.”
Slowly, and with fucking precision, I started to carve the sharp edge of my blade through his flesh. I was moving so slowly, I could practically feel the way his skin tore apart, all the while I held his panicked gaze.
Inch by inch. Little by little, I took from him what he had taken from both me and my mother.
Life.
He gurgled, his breath heavy as he tried to force out his voice. I leaned forward, trying to hear what he was saying. But without a tongue, and my hand continuing to tear through his flesh, I could hardly hear a thing…until I did. I heard it. I heard the word he tried to spit out. It was unclear, almost inaudible. If I hadn’t heard the word before, I never would have been able to make it out.
Mancuso.