31. Lana

31

LANA

I can't breathe. The snap of the belt, the sting of it on my back feels like fire on my skin. I'm still in shock at the level of brutality by these men who were sworn to serve and protect.

I'd worked to mentally prepare myself for sexual assault. Instead, Detective Hartley ripped my shirt and is using his belt to flog me. I've never felt more physical pain in my life.

"You think you're so tough, D'Amato?" Hartley hisses as his heavy leather belt snaps across my back again.

I tried to be strong, to not let them see the fear and pain, but I can't hide this. Tears of agony and humiliation stream down my face as his henchmen laugh. But even in this situation, I'm determined to fight. Or at least be defiant. I have to hold on to hope that someone will save me. Elio? Except maybe he's already dead like Lazaro. Henry? After the phone call, I don't know if Henry is with them or not.

Snap . The searing pain against my skin feels like it's tearing me apart. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn't help. I cry out. Hot tears stream down my face. I struggle against the cuffs that bind my wrists over my head, but they only seem to tighten around me.

I blink through the haze of pain, my vision blurring as a familiar figure walks into the room. Is that… Henry? Or am I hallucinating?

No… it's him. Henry's here. Relief washes over me, momentarily dulling the agony of my wounds. He's come to save me. Of course he has. I knew I could trust him.

"Henry," I croak, my voice barely above a whisper.

But something's not right. Henry's not rushing to my aid. He's not even looking at me. Instead, he's casually chatting with Hartley and the other cops, a relaxed smile on his face.

"Glad you could make it, partner," Hartley says, clapping Henry on the back. "We were just getting started with our little D'Amato problem here."

Henry nods, his eyes finally meeting mine. There's no warmth there, no concern. Just cold indifference.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. He's not here to rescue me. He's here to join them.

I can't believe I was so stupid. I should have known better. How could I have fallen for this man? He played me perfectly. All those tender moments, the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, his promises to help find Lazaro. In reality, he was gathering intel, worming his way into my life, my heart. And now, here he is, ready to watch me suffer alongside the very men who've been tormenting me.

The worst part is, he even told me his plans. He admitted that he initially approached me to get information. But I was so caught up in my feelings, so desperate to believe that someone could actually care for me, that I brushed it off.

God, I'm such a fool. I let my guard down, allowed myself to be vulnerable with him. I even considered telling Elio about us. The thought makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

The physical pain is excruciating, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my chest at Henry's betrayal. I trusted him. I opened up to him in ways I never have with anyone else. And he used it all against me.

I should have trusted my instincts from the start. I knew better than to get involved with a cop. But Henry made me believe in love, in us. Now I'm paying the price for my naivety.

For a moment, I feel all my strength, my will to fight, dissipate.

Henry walks closer, his eyes cold and unfamiliar. "Can I have a turn?"

A part of me dies.

"Why not?" Hartley hands him the belt.

Henry waves it away. "You're not thinking out of the box. A woman like this can endure your pain. She's strong, aren't you?"

"Fuck you." The words have no oomph.

All the men laugh.

"You know, I wasn't sure about you, Henry," Hartley says. "You always seemed like such a by-the-book kinda guy."

Henry scoffs, shaking his head. "That's your problem. You're all too obvious. You know you nearly ruined everything with your heavy-handed tactics."

"What do you mean?" Peter asks, his brow furrowed.

"I mean that your little stunt at her office could have blown the whole operation. You said it yourself, Peter. We have to uphold the image of serving and protecting, an appearance of being honest and squeaky clean. You numb nuts reeked of dirty cops during that search. You're lucky I was there to smooth things over."

He's more corrupt than the rest. And then it hits me. He wasn't really looking into Lazaro's disappearance. He was a part of it. And every time Henry intervened, every moment he seemed to be protecting me, it was all part of his act. He wasn't trying to help me. He was maintaining his cover.

I feel sick to my stomach. At that moment, I give up. I give in to the darkness threatening to consume me. There's nothing left for me here. My family is gone. My love is a lie.

"If you really want to torture her, there's a much more effective way," Henry says, taking my chin in his hand. I wish I had the strength to jerk it away, but I don't.

He forces me to look into the eyes I once thought held warmth and affection.

"I hate you," I hiss, mustering every ounce of venom I can. "Even if you kill all the D'Amatos, you'll never get away with it."

Hartley's laughter echoes through the room. "Big talk from someone in your position. The police won't care about another dead D'Amato."

I steel myself, trying to look strong and defiant despite the fear coursing through me. "No, but others will care. We have friends. Allies. I wonder how long before each one of you disappears, one by one." I lock eyes with each of them in turn. "I wonder if they'll ever find your bodies? I know one family that has a morbid fascination with dismemberment. They usually start cutting while you're alive. I'll hate to miss your castration."

The two cops exchange uneasy glances. Good. I want them to spend the rest of their lives wondering if a friend of the D'Amato family will torture and kill them.

"You should hold your breath each time you turn on your car," I say. " Boom ."

"Shut up!" Peter snarls, but I can hear the fear in his voice.

I turn my gaze back to Henry, summoning every ounce of hatred I can muster. "And you… I'll kill you myself. Some way. Somehow."

Henry's smirk sends chills down my spine. His eyes, once so warm and comforting, now gleam with a coldness that makes my blood run cold. "That'll be very hard when you're dead."

I try to maintain my defiant glare, but inside, I'm crumbling. How did I not see his darkness? His deception?

"Don't kill her yet. She hasn't given me my blow job," Dickhead says.

Henry's expression hardens as he turns to face the other cop. "I wouldn't recommend that. You stick your dick in her mouth and she'll bite it off."

"That's if it fits. I can tell you have a tiny dick. Men like you always have tiny dicks." I'm assuring my death now, but I'm dead, anyway. Might as well get a few of my own blows in.

Dickhead's hand moves too fast for me to prepare for the slap. My body jerks from the impact, the cuffs digging deeper into my wrists.

Henry shakes his head. "Here's another lesson, fellas. Don't let your victim bait you. It makes you look weak."

Dickhead sneers at me.

"But I can't blame you for wanting her. She's a beauty, isn't she?" Henry's gaze rakes over me in a way that makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. I wonder how long it will be before he gives them a play-by-play of all the ways I allowed him to touch me.

I spit on him, my saliva landing on his smug face. It's a small victory, but it's all I have left.

Henry combs his fingers into my hair and jerks my head to the side as he leans in close to me. "Hold on, baby. This will be over soon." For a moment, I see a flicker of warmth in his eyes. Apparently, in my weakened state, I still hope this is all a nightmare, that Henry is here to save me.

I try to pull away from him, but he holds me in place, his grip tightening in my hair.

"Let me go," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I try to appear defiant, but my eyes fill with tears. I close them, not wanting him to see me cry. I won't give him that satisfaction. I force myself to laugh. "Look at you. Four men to take down little ol' me? You're weak and pathetic. You act tough because deep down, you're all insignificant and you know it. You wish you were men enough to be mobsters, but you're just a bunch of fucking losers."

Henry watches me, and I almost feel like he's proud of me while also wishing I'd shut up. "That's the spirit, Lana. Keep fighting."

I want to scream. I close my eyes, unable to bear the sight of Henry's cold, mocking gaze any longer. The darkness behind my eyelids offers no comfort.

I can't let this break me. I won't. I open my eyes, staring into his eyes so he knows that I will fight. As I hang here, battered and bleeding, I vow that they won't break me. Maybe I'll survive this. And if I do, I'll make them all pay—especially Henry.