Chapter 30

ALESSIO

T he rumble of vehicles shattered the predawn calm.

I bolted upright on Cleo’s couch, eyes so tired, gritty under my lids.

Sleep had eluded me, my thoughts in a constant battle, my mind churning with worry. I’d struggled to stay rational and not give in to the impulse to rush out into the night and save Cleo.

Not even a shower at 2 a.m. had helped settle me down. I was jacked up, missing her, on the edge of losing my shit.

I mulled the idea of storming the neighboring property alone, my paranoia ratcheting at the thought of what the Contis and Franco, in particular, were doing to her.

Mayhem, murder, and malice twisted in my heart as I waited, my only thread to sanity being the thought of Lorenzo on his way .

Now, a voice called. The sound carried from down the drive at the gate. My spirit leaped in recognition.

I pushed up to my feet and powered to the door.

Tugging on my boots, I opened the cabin door and jogged toward Cleo’s front yard.

The sight that greeted me lifted my fucked up spirit.

With a jerk at the silhouettes inside the lead vehicle, I unlocked the entrance and shoved it open.

Tires crunched on the gravel as three SUVs rolled past me one by one, headlights cutting through the inky predawn darkness.

I prowled to the cars from which a dozen men were exiting.

I first tagged Lorenzo, my older brother, my mentor, my freakin’ ride-or-die.

‘Fratello?’

I pulled him in for a silent, extended hug.

‘Calma, piccolo leone,’ he murmured into my hair, using our childhood nickname for me.

Little Lion.

Not so little now.

He canted back and studied me in the weak light, patting my cheek.

‘We’re here now,’ he added.

His words had the desired effect, and a measure of my burden lifted.

‘Grazie mille.’

I gazed at the men who eased from the vehicles, stretching their arms and legs, silhouetted in the early morning mist.

Mauri and our finest capos. Mattia, Leonardo, Andrea, Francesco and Tommaso.

‘We’ve got weapons, ammo, and soldiers. We’re primed to go when you are,’ our consigliere announced.

‘I’m ready now,’ I growled.

‘Sì, non preoccuparti, fratello. Franco Conti won’t know what hit ‘em.’

I curled my lip. ‘We ride at dawn.’

‘Indeed.’

CLEO

A weak light falling on my face jerked me awake.

I shook my head, disoriented, as I stared at the unfamiliar room, the spare cot, and the sparse furnishings.

I glanced out the window at a soulless backyard and realized it was after daybreak. And that I’d spent the night in a tiny, ugly bedroom in the Conti compound.

The experiences of the night came rushing to mind, and I groaned.

I recalled how Franco and Rocco had dragged me out of the car and thrown me in here.

As I fell to the ground, Rocco exited with a smirk, leaving me with his lecherous father.

Franco had approached me, eyes shining with lust.

‘Finally mine.’

‘You’re out of your mind, delulu.’

His hands had pawed at me, and he’d tried to force his slobbering lips on me.

At the same time, he’d undone his trousers, releasing his shaft, groaning as he dry rutted against my thigh.

He’d heaved against me, about to shudder into his sordid release, when I’d bitten his flopping, wet lips, raised a knee, and slammed it into his groin.

Clutching his wounded jewels, he’d slipped to his knees, where he’d lain, crying out.

I’d taken the opportunity to kick his ribs, his yells for help filling me with a macabre triumph.

Rocco had rushed in and, with a snarl, slapped me, breaking my lip.

The cut on my mouth, the mark on my face, no doubt given the trail of crimson on my hand, had been worth it.

‘You won’t be able to fight me tomorrow,’ Franco promised, leaning on his son, attempting to cover up his embarrassment.

Both Conti scum had scowled at me before hurrying out of the room, locking me in.

It took a good hour of dry heaving and shaking on the tiny cot in the room before I shook off the disgust of the assault.

Through the night, I tossed and turned, mind racing, wondering when Alessio would come for me.

For I was certain he would. Thinking of my man’s unyielding, brawling spirit was like oxygen, giving me life and filling me with hope.

Hours later, footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond, and the lock on the door to my cell jiggled as a key was rotated.

I braced as the metal entryway was pushed open.

Franco stepped with a cold sneer on his face.

He fuckin’ made my blood boil, and I rushed him with a hook and sidekick, ready to hit the fucker once more.

Rocco, who’d eased in behind his father, ducked around Franco, encircling my waist .

I thrashed harder against the lean as a whip man, heedless of his blows and slaps.

‘You fucking bitch,’ he called out, slamming me onto the far wall.

I cried out as my head bounced off, stars exploding in my vision.

Rocco seized a fistful of my hair, wrenching my head back, eyes glittered with malice as he shoved me to my knees before him. ‘Not so tough now, are you, whore?’ he sneered.

Franco stepped in, lifting a hand. ‘Don’t call her that. Not when she’s about to be my bride.’

Rocco backed off with a scowl as I sliced my eyes away from the pair of them, blinking back tears of agony.

I would not let them fall, for they’d never see my pain.

‘The ceremony is at 8 a.m.’

‘Fuck off.’

Franco ignored my spirited response, instead tossing a package on the bed.

‘Dress, shoes, veil, wear them.’

He turned to leave.

I glared at him, then opened my mouth, needing answers. ‘Why? Why are you so obsessed with me? Why go into all this trouble? All these years?’

Franco laughed, the sinister light in his eyes fading to my surprise, revealing a desperate, almost love-sick expression.

He raked his strange, dark, glittering eyes over me in a mix of affection and viciousness that was downright creepy.

‘Cleo Michele, you’re the one female I’ve never stopped thinking about. Call it a wild attachment I’ve never been able to let go of. I knew we were meant to be since I first noticed you as a child. I’m obsessed with you. I craved your attention. I prayed for any glimpse of you. I even forgave you the previous two times you escaped from me and for your attack last night. Because I am convinced that with you in my life, I will be a better version of me and someone you will cherish.’

Silence fell as I regarded him, feeling my anger ebb a little, replaced by scorn for his loathsomeness.

‘Never, ever will I love a pedophile, a pervert, a kidnapper, and an outright sadist. One who’s fuckin out of his mind thinking he’s joined a pantheon of dad-bodded, middle-aged creeps and their lissome, millennial lovers. Who fantasizes and fetishizes about the glory and admiration that he imagines will be in my eyes when I look at him. To be real, I’d rather kill myself than be with you.’

Franco’s eyes dilated, his mouth contorting, before he lowered his voice into a feral whisper. ‘You’ve no choice, Cleo. The rings are set to be exchanged, and they’ll bind you to me and grant us the life I’ve always wanted. With you.’

His eyes glittered with madness as he swept aside his vest to show me his gun.

‘I also have ways to compel you to give me what I want,’ he crowed on. ‘So please be ready when Rocco comes for you.’

The older man’s fingers reached for mine, fumbling for my hand, the roughness of his skin scraping against mine before I snatched it away.

‘I can’t wait to kiss you, my bride,’ Franco intoned. ‘And breed you. Even if it means doing it with a gun to your head.’

I stared in scorn and horror at his dry and cracked lips and closed my eyes, wishing I could disappear, that this could all be a bad dream I would soon wake from.

But when I opened them, the reality was still there.

Franco smiled, a look of triumph in his eyes as if he had won something.

Maybe he had.

He saluted, as did Rocco, before exiting the room and leaving me to ruminate on my coming nightmare.