Chapter 34

34

Zara

M y head rocks to the side as if something struck me during my sleep. I try to lift my palm to cup my throbbing cheek but can’t. That’s when I remember where I am and what’s happening to me.

I blink my heavy eyelids open to find I’m still restrained to the workbench. Emilio’s smug face stares down at me.

“Last chance to confess that Creed Ferraro killed my son before I put you through even worse hell. This table saw goes right through bone, you know. It’s so messy, though.”

However long I’ve been here, Emilio has carved his son’s name in my skin, slowly burned every line of each letter, and broken several of my fingers and toes. Oh, and how could I forget when he covered my mouth and held my nose for several minutes over and over again until I was certain my lungs would explode, and I’d never take a deep breath again .

Now, simply breathing is agonizing. Every part of my body hurts, and I just want to go back to sleep.

But torturing me is no fun for him if I can’t stay awake. And threatening to use the table saw…I don’t even want to know what he plans to do to me with that damn thing.

I thought I was ready to die, to never see my daughter again, or Creed.

But there’s still a part of my soul kicking and screaming, yelling at me not to give up. Not yet. That if I hold on a little longer, Creed will burst into the room, killing Emilio and his men to save me.

Only, there’s no fucking way Creed will find me in time.

And there’s no point in dragging him down with me.

“Just kill me…and get it over with,” I tell Emilio.

“Kill you?” Emilio laughs. “Why would you think I want you dead? This is just the beginning of your long, drawn-out punishment. One where you will never see Oriana again.” He runs a finger down my nose, over my lips, and lower between my breasts, right through the burnt lettering, making me whimper. “I enjoy fucking you too much to ever get rid of you, though. It’ll be even better when I don’t have to worry about knocking you up. I have a surgeon who owes me a favor. He’ll tie your tubes to avoid any more accidents, since Izaiah’s no longer around to take the fall. I don’t want to have to share you with Saint to cover another mistake.”

There are some things worse than death.

And this is definitely one of them.

Leaning his scowling face over mine, he grabs my chin. “You don’t like that idea, do you? Too fucking bad. You can’t do anything about it now. Why don’t you just admit Creed Ferraro killed Izaiah, so you can keep all your limbs intact?”

“I killed Izaiah. And I don’t regret it.”

“Why are you protecting him?!” he shouts .

“I’m not protecting anyone.”

“You lying cunt! There’s only one reason you’d lie for that son of a bitch. And he did go to an awful amount of trouble for you…How long have you been fucking him, huh? Was it before or after he killed Izaiah?”

I don’t like where his thoughts are going. He’s already rightly assumed it was Creed who killed his son and guards. And if he didn’t know for certain about Oriana, I’m sure the nannies will fill him in, since they don’t owe any loyalty to Creed. Hell, maybe they already have while I was passed out.

And the nannies may also tell Emilio Creed is my husband.

“It was just sex. We had an agreement — he wouldn’t kill me for setting him up, getting his brother killed, if I let him fuck me. I hate him,” I lie.

“Creed wouldn’t kidnap my daughter and kill my men for pussy. Do you think my guys didn’t notice you slip something into your pocket on the ride over?”

Reaching his hand down into my jean pocket, he pulls out my huge diamond and my wedding band. “You married him, didn’t you, you stupid whore?”

He sounds jealous, even more so than when he’d find out Izaiah had visited me on the same day as him. It was always more painful on those days.

When I don’t respond, Emilio smirks. “Let’s find out if I’m right, shall we?” His phone is in his hand a moment later.

Fuck.

If he’s going to make me call Creed and beg him to find me or some shit, I should at least try to get something useful out of him first.

“We may be married, but Creed doesn’t give a shit about me,” I assure Emilio. “He threatened to kill me if I didn’t say the vows and sign the application. So, whatever you’re plotting will just blow up in your face when he kills you. Creed still has more allies than you in the other families, who will come after you if you kill him to take his place.”

“Who are his allies? Those slum pirates, the Marinos?” I shrug in response but he just huffs, “I already knew that, you dumb bitch.”

“And the Bertellis,” I add, hoping that revealing this information won’t bite any of them in the ass.

“Now that’s not necessarily true,” Emilio immediately replies. He squeezes my jaw, and it feels like he could crush the bones with his bare hands. I close my eyes to fight the pain and nearly miss the vital information in his next statement. “How do you think I knew to be looking for you at that exact place and time, huh?”

How did he…

Oh fuck.

Weston Bertelli betrayed Creed?

This is the information I wanted Emilio to spill before he calls Creed. I need to tell him. I have to warn him about Bertelli before I never get to talk to him again. It’s also been driving Creed insane that he can’t find evidence Emilio was behind the club raid that killed his brother.

“Was it... did you set up the raid at the nightclub…with Izaiah?” I ask Emilio, figuring there’s no reason I shouldn’t try to get the mouthy asshole to keep spilling his secrets.

“No. That was all Izaiah’s idiotic idea,” he says, his outrage obvious in his tone. “He was trying to take Creed and Carmine out. He wanted to prove to me I should make him my heir after I told him he had to get clean, or I would pass him over for Saint.”

Well then, it wasn’t Emilio after all.

“He had a little help but not enough,” Emilio continues ranting. “Too bad it failed, or Izaiah would still be alive. Fucking Bowen Bertelli.” He practically growls the man’s name. “If he had the balls to hire one of his father’s men, it would’ve gone off without a hitch. But Bowen is a fucking pussy. ”

So, it wasn’t the head of the Bertelli family, but the son, Bowen, who was stupidly working with Emilio.

“My son did his part perfectly,” Emilio says. “Bertelli is the one who fucked everything up. Izaiah was on the right track. He was finally getting clean.”

No, he wasn’t.

I don’t say that to Emilio because it will only anger him. But I knew Izaiah, and he never would have given up the drugs. Not as long as he had access to his family’s fortune.

I’m surprised he didn’t overdose before Creed killed him.

The fucking cretino was so braindead he died still absolutely certain he was Oriana’s father.

And Bowen Bertelli must be a gigantic idiot as well, to not only go against Creed, but his own damn father.

I need to give Creed all of this information, so he’ll finally know who was responsible for Carmine’s death and make them pay.

For weeks, he’s felt like it was his fault his brother died. That’s why he was so determined to find who was behind it, to have someone else to hurt and blame.

I only need one last thing from Emilio.

“What are you going to do to Creed?”

“I’m going to convince him to put a gun to his own head and pull the trigger,” he says simply. “Just like Izaiah did to those two cops.”

Over my dead body, I think before it occurs to me that’s exactly what Emilio is going to use to convince Creed to do it — my life for his.