Twisted Pride: Chapter 20

“If they don’t arrive soon, I’ll start without them. I don’t give a fuck if it offends Luca fucking Vitiello or not,” Fabiano growled as he stood over his father, who lay on his side on the ground, mouth taped, arms and legs bound together. He stared up at his son with terror-widened eyes.

“They’ll be here any second,” I muttered.

I could tell Fabiano was barely listening. He was too focused on his father. He’d waited a long time for this moment. Fuck, I got it. I’d do anything for a chance to torture my father to death. I still remembered the fucking day I found out my traitorous half-brother had killed the asshole, something I’d dreamed of since I understood our father wasn’t the invincible god he made himself out to be. That he could, in fact, be killed. Since I was a fucking kid, I’d dreamed of erasing our father from our lives …

If there were a Hell, I’d walk straight down into it to make a deal with the Devil so he’d give me the chance to kill the man just once. Maybe twice.

“Not the scrawny boy you can torture for your own amusement anymore, am I?” Fabiano murmured as he crouched in front of the other man. I prided myself on my scary smile, but Fabiano’s expression surpassed everything. He’d enjoy today.

The door creaked open, and Fabiano straightened. Nino came in, followed by Matteo and Romero. I had been surprised when Luca had told me he’d send them but not come himself. I supposed he had less reason to tear into Scuderi than the others. He had been gifted Aria because Scuderi sold his daughters off like cattle, and anyone could admit Aria was a very nice gift. An image of another woman with blond hair and blue eyes entered my mind, uninvited. I shoved it down.

I’d set her free.

“Nothing better than bonding over shared torture,” Matteo said with a grin as he sauntered into the cell in the basement of the Sugar Trap. That asshole always looked as if he’d walked straight out of a photo shoot for a fashion magazine. One day I’d fuck up his pretty face. Romero gave me and Fabiano a curt nod before his eyes, too, fell on Scuderi.

I pushed off the wall and extended my hand to Matteo, who took it after a moment.

“I still can’t stand your fucking face, Remo,” he said with a smirk. “But for this I might hesitate a millisecond before cutting your throat once we’re back to being enemies.”

“That millisecond will be the moment I’ll cut your head off, Matteo,” I said with a twisted smile of my own.

He released my hand. “May the craziest fucker win.”

My smile widened and I caught Nino’s gaze across the room. We both knew who that would be because when it came to crazy fuckery I was the undisputed master.

I turned to Romero, who didn’t display the careless attitude of Vitiello. He obviously was wary about being in a basement in Vegas. I didn’t have the slightest intention to attack either of them today. War with the Famiglia would have to wait until the Outfit was crushed and its territory split between us.

He briefly shook my hand. “Your methods are dishonorable,” he said tersely.

“You disapprove of them and yet here you are … benefiting from them.”

Romero pulled his hand away, his brown eyes returning to Scuderi and his expression filling with hate.

I went over to Scuderi and smiled down at him. His eyes flickered with terror. “I must say you’ve gathered many enemies over time, and we’ve all come together to tear you apart.”

I reached down and ripped the tape from his face then straightened and returned to my spot at the wall. Maybe his agonized screams would drown out the voice of regret in my head.

Serafina walking away in that fucking white dress and that last look she gave me. Fuck it all.

Fabiano circled his father. “Father, I’ve been waiting for this chance for a very long time, and I have every intention of making it last for as long as possible. Lucky for me, Nino is a master at prolonging torture. With a little luck we can keep you alive for two or three days. That way we can all get the fun we deserve.”

Scuderi tried to push himself into a sitting position but failed. His expression became pleading. If he thought that would warm Fabiano’s heart, he didn’t understand what Fabiano did on a daily basis as my Enforcer. “I’m your father, Fabi. You already lost your mother. Do you want to lose me as well?”

Fabiano lunged, smashing his fist into the man’s face. Bones crunched. I watched from my spot against the wall. This wasn’t my moment. Despite my need to maim and kill, I’d hold back. Matteo, Fabiano, and Romero had more reason to spill Scuderi’s blood.

“Shut up,” Fabiano snarled.

Matteo had begun twisting a Karambit knife in his fingers, an eager gleam in his eyes I knew all too well.

“I’ve got small kids who need me,” Scuderi tried in a hoarse voice.

Fabiano lifted him by the collar and jerked him up against the wall, getting in his face. “They’ll be better off without you. My sisters and I would have that’s for sure.”

Nino put a chair down in the center of the room, and Matteo helped Fabiano drag Scuderi over to it. They tied him up despite his struggling.

His beady eyes found me. “Remo, you are Capo. I could be of use to you. I know everything about the Outfit and Dante. If you let me live, I’ll tell you everything.”

Fabiano scoffed as he pulled his knife from the holster around his chest.

I smiled cruelly at the disgusting bastard before me. “You will reveal everything I want to know. I know you’re in very capable hands that will coerce every truth out of you.”

“Oh we will,” Matteo said with his fucking shark grin. He stepped up to Fabiano, and they exchanged a look. Then Matteo leaned over Scuderi and brought the knife down on his chest. “Gianna sends her regards. I told her I’d let you suffer, and I will.”

Matteo left a long cut across Scuderi’s chest, making the bastard scream like a fucking coward.

Romero moved up to Scuderi after that. He wasn’t holding a knife in his hand. He smashed his fist into Scuderi side twice then into his stomach. Some men preferred to dish out pain with their fists, others with a cold blade. I enjoyed either, depending on my mood and what my opponent feared more.

“You gave Lily to a fucking old bastard so you could get a child bride for yourself. You’re a disgrace of a father.” He punched the man again.

Fabiano took over. “I hope you will spend your last hours considering that not a fucking soul on this planet will be sorry you’re gone. If you find time for sane thoughts between the agony.” He inflicted a long cut on the man’s arm. The sight of the red rivulets trailing enticingly over bare skin made my body hum with excitement. Fuck, I wanted to spill blood, dish out agony. I wanted to fucking destroy someone.

Nino leaned beside me. It wasn’t time for him to help yet, and his attention was on me, not the scene in the center of the cell.

“Stop the assessment,” I said in a low voice.

Nino narrowed his eyes slightly but complied and finally turned toward the torture. Matteo, Romero, and Fabiano took turns beating and cutting Scuderi until his screams and begging filled the cell.

After a few hours, Fabiano, covered in blood and sweat, indicated for Nino to get involved. My brother rolled up his sleeves and after another lingering glance at me, he moved toward the medical kit that would ensure Scuderi didn’t die too soon.

Romero leaned against the wall. Matteo and Fabiano had taken turns torturing Scuderi over the last hour, and I had a feeling they’d be the ones to deal with him in the remaining hours of his life. My own body hummed with the need to destroy, the need to give pain and feel pain, to fill the fucking void in my chest.

My body screamed for sleep, but except for a few toilet breaks, I stayed in the cell while Fabiano dealt with his bastard of a father. It wouldn’t be much longer.

Fabiano’s shoulders heaved as he stared down at his father. The man was breathing shallowly.

Fabiano turned to me, blood splatters dotting his face. His naked chest was completely coated with it. Our eyes met. “Remo…will you…?” His voice was hoarse.

I pushed away from the wall and walked up to him, not sure what he was asking of me. Fabiano clutched the bloody knife in a death grip, the look in his eyes reminding me of the boy I’d found in Bratva territory many years ago— a boy desperate for death because his father had taken everything from him.

Nino motioned for Matteo and Romero to leave, and with a last look at me, he closed the door. Fabiano swallowed before he held out his forearm with the Camorra tattoo. “You gave me a home. A purpose. You treated me like a brother…” He glanced down at his father. “Like family. I know you wanted nothing more than to kill your father and had that taken from you. I know it’s not the same, but…will you help me kill my father?”

I linked arms with Fabiano, clutching his forearm tightly. “We aren’t blood but we are brothers, Fabiano. I’ll walk through fire for you.” I stared down at the fucker who’d wanted his own son dead then back up to Fabiano. “And there’s nothing I’d rather do than kill him with you. It’s an honor.”

Fabiano nodded, then got down on his knees beside his father. I did the same. Fabiano raised the knife above his father’s chest then looked at me. I closed my fingers over his and together we jabbed the blade down, right into Scuderi’s fucking heart.

Fabiano’s shoulders sagged and he released a harsh breath as if the man’s death finally set him free. I wondered if anything would ever do the same for Nino and me?

SERAFINA

Outside of Las Vegas we traded in the car for the private jet belonging to the Outfit. I huddled in my seat, my cheek pressed to the window, watching the city grow smaller in the distance. Dad sat across from me, looking and not looking at me, caught somewhere between utter relief and hopeless despair.

I knew what a pitiful sight I was. Bloody and torn dress. Bite marks all over my throat. Dante was talking quietly on the phone, but he, too, slanted the occasional look at me. The only one who hadn’t looked at me after I flinched from his touch was Danilo. He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

Guilt and a flicker of sadness washed over me. For him. For us. For what could have been and never would.

I swallowed and looked away. I met Dad’s gaze. He forced a small smile and reached for me as if to touch my legs over the tulle of my dress, but then he hesitated as if he was worried about my reaction. I snatched his hand and squeezed. His eyes were still glassy and haunted. I’m a sinner, Dad. Don’t cry for me.

He lifted his other hand with the phone. “Do you want to call Samuel? I sent him a message that we got you.”

I nodded fiercely, my throat clogging. Dad’s eyes darted to my throat once more, and the hint of something cruel and harsh flared in them. Something he had never showed at home. He gave me his phone, and I hit speed dial with shaking fingers.

“Yes?”

For a second, hearing Samuel’s voice immobilized me. “Sam,” I croaked.

There was silence. “Fina?”

The word was a broken exclamation that splintered me apart. Tears trailed down my cheeks, and I could feel all eyes on me. I closed my own. “I’m sorry.”

Samuel sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t … don’t apologize. Not ever again, Fina.”

I couldn’t promise that. One day I’d have to deliver the apology that would make Sam hate me. A higher voice rang out in the background. “It’s okay, Mom,” Samuel soothed. “I’ll give her to you.” He addressed me again. “I’ll give you Mom now. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, Fina.”

I sniffled. “Me too.”

“Fina,” Mom said softly, trying but failing at sounding composed and not like she was sobbing.

So many broken hearts. So much pain and despair.

Remo Falcone was indeed the cruelest man I knew, and I had to be the coldest bitch on this planet, because even still my stupid heart thudded faster when I thought of him.

“I’ll be home soon,” I whispered.

“Yes … yes,” Mom agreed. We hung up eventually because it got to be too much, the silence of suppressed crying and the distance we couldn’t bridge.

“Where are we going?” I hadn’t asked before because I’d just assumed we’d go back to Minneapolis … but I was as good as Danilo’s wife. Would they take me to Indianapolis? Or maybe to Chicago because Dante needed to question me about every little detail of my captivity?

Dad leaned forward and cupped my cheek. “Home, Fina. Home.”

I nodded. My eyes found Danilo, who was watching me. Our gazes locked briefly, but then guilt forced me to look away. I’d have to face him eventually. I wasn’t sure what to tell him.

The rest of the plane ride passed in utter silence. I knew they all had so many questions to ask but held back for my sake, and I was glad because I still wasn’t sure what to say to any of them.

With every second that passed, my skin crawled more and more trapped in my wedding dress. It felt so utterly wrong, like being wrapped in lies and deceit.

Mom and Samuel waited in front of our house when we pulled up with the car. I didn’t see Sofia anywhere, probably to protect her from the sight, and I was glad. She didn’t need to see me like this.

I trembled when Dad helped me out of the car, his fingers tight around my forearm as if he worried I might faint. Dante and Danilo stayed back as we walked toward the house. Samuel staggered toward me. My twin. My confidante. My partner in crime.

He froze when his eyes registered my state, the marks on my throat, and his expression became one I’d seen the first time shortly after he’d become a Made Man five years ago. Cold, cruel, out for blood. He caught himself, bridged the remaining distance between us, and hugged me to his body, lifting me off the ground in a crushing embrace. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, shivering.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he rasped.

I wasn’t the person he knew. She was gone. If he knew what I’d become, if they all knew, they’d hate me. And rightfully so.

Can you un-lose yourself?

I clung to Samuel for a long time, just breathing in his comforting scent, relishing in the feel of him. Eventually, he set me down and my eyes fell on Mom, who stood behind Samuel, her hand covering her mouth, tears running down her face. Dad had wrapped his arm around her, steadying her. Their anguish cut me deeply.

They thought Remo had raped me. I looked like I had been raped with my ripped and bloody dress. Mom rushed forward and embraced me so tightly I could barely breathe and she sobbed into my hair, and my heart … it just broke hearing it. And not for the first time, I wished Remo had done what everyone thought so I could cry rightfully with my mother and with all of them.

I should have told her the truth, but the words didn’t pass my lips. Soon. Dad and Samuel joined us, and I sighed, because right then I allowed myself a moment of contentment being united with them. Samuel wrapped his arm around my shoulders as he led me inside our home.

“Where’s Sofia?” I asked.

“She’s with Valentina and the kids in a safe house close by. They’ll come over soon,” Dante explained from behind me.

I nodded.

“I need to shower,” I said and regretted my words when I saw the look my family exchanged. I quickly moved away and headed upstairs into my room, starting to tear at my dress, but the thing clung to me. Angry, desperate tears gathered in my eyes.

“Sam!” I called, and in a blink he was there. “Can you … can you help me with the dress?”

He nodded and pushed my hair to the side to reach the zipper. He froze, releasing a shuddering breath. I knew what he saw: the bite mark on the nape of my neck. He leaned forward, burying his face in my hair. I allowed him a moment to gather himself even as my own heart broke and broke and broke. “I will kill him.”

A threat. A promise. Not my salvation as he hoped it could be.

He pulled down the zipper. I stumbled into the bathroom, not looking at him, and closed the door. The warm water didn’t wash away my shame and guilt. How could I remain among the people I had betrayed? How could I look into their faces knowing they had suffered more than I had?

I closed my eyes. They were happy to have me back. I had to focus on that. But why, why wasn’t I happy? I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, then wrapped a towel around my body. I stepped back out to grab clothes.

Samuel perched on the edge of my bed, his expression tight. His eyes flitted to my throat then to my thighs. My gaze followed his and I saw the hand-shaped bruises on my inner thighs where Remo had held me in place when he’d buried his face in my lap.

I felt the color drain from my face, grabbed some clothes, and returned to the bathroom. Shaking, I quickly dressed in a soft dress and tights. With a deep breath, I emerged and approached Samuel hesitantly. He was staring down at his hand on the bed, tightly curled into a fist.

I sat beside him, curling my legs under my body. Samuel raised his eyes and the look in them was like a wrecking ball of guilt. His gaze darted to my throat again, to Remo’s marks, and utter despair filled his face.

“Oh, Fina,” he said in a broken murmur. “I won’t ever forgive myself. I failed you. I should have protected you. These last two months I almost went crazy. I can’t stop thinking that I had to sit back while you went through hell. That I’m the reason why you suffered worse.” He swallowed. “When Remo sent us those sheets …” His voice broke.

I threw myself at Samuel, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my nose against his neck. “Don’t. Please don’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong.”

I did. I wronged you all.

His arms came around me, and he shuddered. “You were supposed to be protected, to be safe from the horrors of our life. I never wanted you to find out how cruel the mafia could be. No one will ever touch you again, Fina. I won’t leave your side. And one day Dad and I will get our hands on Remo, and then we’ll show him that we can be as cruel and merciless as the Camorra. He will be begging for mercy.”

“It’s over,” I whispered. “It’s over, Sam. Let’s not talk about it ever again. Please.” I knew Remo better than he did, and nothing they could do would make Remo beg for mercy.

He nodded against me, and we stayed like that for a while. “When I heard your screams in the basement, I thought I’d go insane,” he said darkly.

I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, not able to look at him when I delivered the truth. “Remo didn’t torture me. He wanted you to believe he did. He wanted me to make you believe you hurt me so you’d suffer. I … I … only wanted to save you.”

Samuel cupped my head and pulled back, his eyes softer than before. “It was my job to save you and I couldn’t. Even if those screams weren’t real, I can see what he did to you …” Samuel swallowed, his eyes lowering to the bite marks once more. “You were meant to be treated like a princess, cared for and cherished … not … not …” He shook his head and buried his face in his palms. “I can’t get the image of those sheets out of my head, can’t forget Mom’s sobs or the way she fell to her knees in front of Dante and begged him to save you, or how Danilo destroyed Dad’s entire office. I can’t forget Dad crying. He’s never cried, Fina. Dad and I have done and seen so much, but we both fucking cried like fucking babies that day. I swear by my honor, by everything I love, that I won’t rest until I’ve rammed my fucking knife into Remo Falcone.”

I kissed the top of his head and held him because despite being the one who had been kidnapped, Remo hadn’t broken me, and I realized it had never been his intention. He’d done worse.

“Sam,” I said, gathering my courage because I needed to save him, needed to save them all with the truth even if it ruined me. “I didn’t suffer like you all think. Remo didn’t rape me, he didn’t torture me.”

Samuel pulled back and I braced myself for the inevitable, for the disgust and hatred, resigned myself to it, but his eyes held pity and sadness.

He stroked my throat then touched the faded cut on my forearm. Something dark swirled in the depth of his blue eyes when they locked on mine. “You were innocent. You’ve never been alone with a man and then you were at the mercy of a monster like Remo Falcone. You had nothing to protect yourself. You did what you had to, to survive. The brain is a powerful tool. It can survive the cruelest horrors by creating alternative realities.”

I shook my head. He didn’t understand. “Sam,” I tried again. “I wasn’t raped.”

Sam swallowed and kissed my forehead as if I was a small kid. “You’ll realize it eventually, Fina. Once you’ve healed, once the brainwashing ceases, you’ll see the truth. I’ll be there for you when that happens. I won’t ever leave your side again.”

And I realized then that he’d never believe the truth because he couldn’t. The sister he knew and loved wouldn’t have slept with Remo, and if I wanted to return to him, to my family, I needed to become her again.

I wasn’t sure if she was still inside of me somewhere or if Remo had ripped her from me, just like he did my innocence, and kept her for himself.