Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Alessio

My unwanted attraction to Dario ruins all my fun at having him captive in the cabin's cellar. But then, if I hadn't been hugely drawn to him in the first place, I'd never have let him fuck me. I still have no idea why I did that. Sure, I was horny, but even so, having sex with my mark was dumb. Risky. Still, even down in the cellar just now, his scent did something weird to me. I was twice as mean to him because of how he affects me. It pisses me off. I don't want to be attracted to Dario. He's just a card to be played. A tool to be used.

And I'd love to use him and use him some more.

I shiver and then curse under my breath as I tromp up the stairs to the kitchen. As I enter the room, Enzo glances at me uneasily, his yellowish eyes glitter in the dim light. "Did you have a nice chat?" he asks.

I pull out a chair at the oak table and plop down, setting the cattle prod on the table top. "He's an asshole." The kitchen is small. Dated. It has oak cupboards, yellow Formica countertops, and old green appliances. But dated or not, it's cozy.

"Is that supposed to be news?" Enzo laughs. "All of the Black Knives guys are pricks. They think their shit doesn't stink."

"I'm gonna enjoy torturing that jerk." I get up and head to the coffeemaker. I pour myself a cup of coffee, still seething at how arrogant Dario is. He didn't even seem the least bit scared. That pisses me off. He should be peeing himself by now, like most "visitors" who've had the pleasure of staying here have. Instead, he made me feel like he had the upper hand. Which is fucking ridiculous.

"I remember that guy's face." Enzo sips his coffee, looking thoughtful. "The day your dad took Nico, that guy kind of saved my life."

I scowl. "Excuse me?"

"It's true. After Roberto stabbed me, that guy put pressure on the wound and drove me to the hospital."

I narrow my eyes and grate out, "What the fuck are you saying? You feel loyal to him or something?"

"Hell no. I'm not saying I feel like I owe him or anything." Sweat breaks out on Enzo's face as I stare him down. "I just appreciate he didn't let me bleed out, that's all. I don't think he even remembers me."

I pour cream into my coffee giving a hard laugh. "Sounds to me like you feel beholden to Dario."

"Absolutely not. Not even one bit." He swallows hard.

"How sweet that you were reunited with your savior. Maybe I should fire you and Valentino can give you a job. Then you could work side by side with your hero."

"Boss," Enzo sounds nervous, "I'm just saying that I recognized him. I mean, he saved my life and I'm glad to be alive. But my loyalty is to you. To the Abella syndicate. You must know that."

I lean against the counter, watching him as I take a sip of coffee. Enzo has worked for my family since he was a boy. He's probably loyal to us, but you never fucking know in this business. People can smile in your face, promising undying loyalty, while slipping a blade between your ribs. It's hard to trust anyone when you're in the mafia, and yet trust and loyalty are what can keep you alive too.

It's a complicated life.

When I don't respond, he frowns. "You trust me, right?" His eyes gleam as he holds my gaze. "I'd die for you, boss. You know that."

I'm happy to hear him say that since I've always felt Enzo was trustworthy. But it's best to keep him on edge. I don't want him feeling too sure of his place beside me. "I guess we'll see. When I start torturing your pal, how you react will tell me a lot."

He sighs. "He's not my pal and I'll happily help you cut his balls off, okay?"

I wince inwardly at that imagery, but say, "That's more like it."

"I mean it too. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. I have no qualms killing Dario. Not one." He lifts his chin, eyes glittering with determination.

"I'm glad to hear it. There's a reason you're the only man I brought with me on this little revenge tour. You're the only one of my dad's men I truly trust. Hopefully, you won't disappoint me."

"I won't," Enzo says quickly. "I'm a hundred percent loyal to you."

I give a sharp nod and he relaxes. We stay silent for a few minutes, then I say, "It's been a day and a half. Have you heard any chatter about whether or not Valentino knows Dario is missing yet?"

"There's some talk, yeah. But so far Valentino isn't saying anything publicly." He smirks. "I'll bet he's rattled his main man isn't around to help him figure out his next step."

I frown. "I don't think Valentino is weak or vulnerable just because I have Dario."

"No. No. You're right." Enzo nods agreeably. "But he's probably not at his best since his right-hand man is gone."

"Or he's ten times more dangerous because he's pissed," I murmur.

"True." Enzo shudders.

I clear my throat. "But that isn't a surprise. I knew Valentino would be upset if Dario went missing. That was the entire point of this. I want him flustered. Then maybe he'll make mistakes."

"What's next?" Enzo rises and goes to the sink to rinse his cup. "Are you actually going to kill Dario, or just torture him up to that line?"

"We'll have to kill him. No way that fucker won't want revenge after I off his boss." I fight the uneasiness that seeps into me at the thought of murdering Dario. His death was always in play. I'm not sure why I now find the idea so distasteful. Is it because we had sex? It wasn't exactly a loving, bonding experience. It was fast and dirty.

But so fucking good.

I bite my tongue against the wave of lust that washes through me. I'd love another rough fuck with Dario, but I realize that's never gonna happen. That ship has sailed, and it's now time to look at him as what he is: bait. That's all he was ever supposed to be; leverage to lure Valentino here.

"Do you think Valentino will really come for him?" Enzo asks.

"I absolutely do."

"When do we let Valentino know we have him?"

I laugh. "We don't. We will continue to drop breadcrumbs. Valentino needs to think he found Dario on his own. He can't know this is a setup. It's imperative he not realize he's being played."

"He's smart though. He might know he's being played."

"Maybe, but trickling out clues is still the best strategy for us." I glance at Enzo, taking in the nervous tick in his cheek. "You still up for this?"

"Of course."

"You seem edgy."

He frowns. "If you're going up against the head of the Black Knives and you're not edgy, you're a fucking fool."

My face warms. "Are you calling me a fool?"

He winces. "No, I'm saying of course I'm nervous. Valentino Syracuse is a fucking beast. He's ruthless. We need to be sure we kill him fast or we're toast."

"We will." I lift my chin, but inside I'm quaking. Despite what Enzo might think, I'm not a fool. I know perfectly well going against Valentino will probably get me killed. But I've made peace with that. I never thought getting out of this alive was guaranteed. But I don't care if I die so long as that fucker goes too. I must avenge my father's shame and subsequent death. I have no choice. In my world, there's nothing more important than your loyalty to family.

"If something were to happen to you," Enzo begins hesitantly, "Your older cousin, Carlo would take your place, right?"

"That's right." Unlike me, Carlo has always chomped at the bit to be the head of the Abella Syndicate. I was never power hungry. I'd have preferred a quieter, less violent life. But I was born the son of Joseph Abella and my fate was sealed. Because of that I was trained from a young boy to one day be my father's successor.

"We need to be sure nothing bad does happen to you," Enzo says gruffly. "I'd hate to think of Carlo taking over your father's syndicate."

"Me too. Mostly because that would mean I was dead." I smirk and finish off my coffee.

Enzo shifts to face me. "We could just kill Dario now. He'd be less of a threat then and he's dying either way. Makes me nervous having him loose and wandering around down in the cellar."

"I don't want to kill him yet. I want him to suffer." I grit my teeth. "He helped Valentino destroy Father. He needs to suffer before I kill him."

"Copy that." Enzo nods. "What's our next move?"

"I want you to go into town. Go to The Golden Ring and start some rumors. Say you heard from someone in one of the other syndicates that Dario is being held in the mountains. Be vague. Give just enough detail for Valentino to start narrowing his search."

"Okay."

I give him a grim look. "But don't hang around long. Just have a drink, talk a bit, and get your ass back here. You stay too long and Valentino might grab you and torture you for more info."

Enzo swallows loudly. "Got it." He moves toward the door.

"And Enzo," I call out.

He stops and faces me. "Yeah?"

"If you do get caught by Valentino, you won't talk, right?"

He scowls, looking insulted. "Fuck no."

I narrow my eyes. "Even if he cuts off your fingers or your dick?" Few men hold out long when being brutally tortured. Even if they have good intentions, the agony makes silence impossible. Loyal or not, slice off a few choice body parts, and most men start spilling their guts.

Enzo looks sickened by my question. "I won't rat you out."

"Everyone says that."

He grimaces. "Okay, well, if… if it comes to that, I… I'll hold out as long as possible. If I don't get back here quickly, I guess assume the worse and get out of here? I won't cave easy, but I guess if they cut off my dick, I might."

I appreciate his honesty and I smile grimly. "If you're not back in two hours, I'll disappear."

He gives a curt nod and leaves.

I hear the engine of the car start and then it fades into the distance. The cabin is deadly quiet once he's gone. The silence makes sense. The cabin is tucked away in a remote area of the mountains a few hours out of the city of Los Demonios. Father bought the place forty years ago, but not as a vacation home. He purchased the cabin because it was so remote, he could torture people to death and conveniently dump the bodies on the mountain, never to be found.

I shiver, thinking of all the people who've been murdered in this cabin. Glancing around, it's hard not to feel creeped out. Are the spirits of the dead here now? Are they watching me and wishing they could get their revenge? I laugh gruffly, the hairs on the back of my neck stiffening. I stand, shooting an uneasy glance around the small kitchen. I decide to give Dario another visit. It's better to be around a flesh and blood man who hates me, than a vengeful ghost who hates me, right?

I open one of the kitchen drawers and pull out a pair of oversized handcuffs. I planned ahead about how to restrain Dario. He's a big guy and I knew his wrists would be too big for regular cuffs. I tuck the key into my back pocket. Next, I grab my flashlight, the cattle prod, and I go down to the cellar. I haven't been to the cabin in years. As I move down the steps, the stench makes me gag a little. I hadn't noticed the smell before because I'd been so focused on Dario, but the cellar fucking stinks. The small area is damp, and it reeks of urine and blood. I almost pity Dario for having to sit down here for days.

Almost.

Dario sits up when he hears me coming down the stairs. His size is intimidating as he gets to his feet. He's much bulkier and muscular than me. I remember the feel of that big body pressed up against my back when we had sex. I hate how my mind swirls with memories of that moment. I'd love to put it behind me, but I find it hard not to think about the rough way he entered me. I shiver at the memory of how he just took what he wanted. There was no negotiating. He took me how he wanted, and it was fucking hot. I enjoyed the hell out of being manhandled by this brute of an alpha. In fact, even now, my dick hardens at the thought of it. But I clench my teeth and push the lusty memories from my brain.

"Back so soon?" he says gruffly.

"I figured why wait?" I smirk. "You deserve to suffer, and I look forward to being the one to make that happen."

He doesn't come back with a snappy retort, which surprises me. He's generally pretty mouthy. He just stands there quietly, the dark shadows giving his angular face a sinister appearance.

"Turn and face the cot," I command.

He hesitates. "Why?"

"So I can cuff you."

He wrinkles his brow. "Maybe I don't want to be cuffed."

"This isn't a democracy." I lift the cattle prod. "You'll regret it if you're stubborn."

He takes a step toward me, leaning in. His masculine power radiates off of him, and I get a whiff of faded cologne, sweat, and wool. "If you're going to torture me either way," he says softly, "Why should I let you cuff me? What's in it for me if I'm agreeable?"

I shiver, instinctively inhaling his alpha scent. I can't help my physical reaction to him, and it's annoying. I'm embarrassed by how much he turns me on. I'm not usually attracted to big alpha thug types, but Dario makes me hard. I find myself drawn to how rough and base he seems. He's so different from me. From anyone I've ever allowed to touch me. He's a hoodlum but I want more of him..

I need to get a fucking grip.

I clear my throat, desperately trying to get control of my perplexing lust. "If you play nice, I'll be nicer too."

"Meaning what? You're still using a cattle prod on me. You still plan on torturing me either way."

"Yes," I say harshly. "But if you cooperate, I'll avoid your balls for now."

He swallows loudly. "How about you avoid them all together?"

"Sorry. We both know you're not gonna want to talk. You know the score. I'm sure you've tortured hundreds of men over the years. You know as well as I do that threatening a man's junk is a fabulous ice breaker."

"I'm not going to tell you anything that would harm Valentino or his family. You can zap my balls all the live long day. I'm not talking."

"We'll see," I grate. "Now turn around so I can cuff you, or else."

A muscle works in his cheek and he looks obstinate. But then, after a moment, he turns.

I do my best not to show it, but I'm relieved he's complied. Regardless of my cocky attitude, going head to head with Dario is intimidating. I tuck the prod under my arm, and drop the flashlight near my feet. Then I move forward quickly and cuff him. As suspected, his wrists are thick and I'm glad I thought ahead about the cuffs. Regular cuffs would never have fit. Then I step back and he turns to face me. The flashlight's yellow light bounces off the walls, and I'm able to see the outline of a hardon through his slacks.

The knowledge he's got an erection does very weird things to me. I'm not sure what to feel. I'm vaguely flattered that just being near me turns him on, but pissed that I too am sporting a woody. Apparently we're both kinky fucks. I want to pretend he's the only one being affected by our weird connection, but I'd be lying. Truth is, I have to control my need to move closer to him. I want his full lips on mine again. I want his tongue in my mouth and his cock in my ass. I feel shaky and hot with need, which is humiliating. Bewildering. Why the hell are we so aroused by each other? We have been since the second we met. I've never experienced anything like this.

Is this some primitive alpha omega thing?

Whatever it is, I resent the hell out of it. Frustrated with my own arousal, I jab the prod into his stomach. He's not expecting it and he cries out and falls to his knees. Breathing hard, he coughs and pants, head down. Still angry at the way he affects me, I jab him again in his shoulder. This time he doesn't cry out. He wasn't taken off guard this time around. He grunts and his entire body shudders, but he doesn't show any weakness.

His stoicism pisses me off even more, so I shock him half a dozen more times. I don't stop until he lying on the ground like a broken doll. He groans and tries to roll onto his stomach, but I stop him with my foot. Because his hands are cuffed behind his back, I feel fairly safe getting really close. I think I surprise us both when I straddle his thighs. His body is trembling, and his eyes are shut.

"I love seeing you in pain," I murmur. "Bringing you to your knees is exhilarating."

He opens his eyes. "You're a sick little punk."

"I know," I smirk. "It's part of my charm."

"Fuck you. Fuck you and the entire Abella Syndicate."

"Oh, yeah?" I jab the prod under his arm and he roars angrily. His entire body is shaking and his thigh muscles are tensed as hard as steel. My dick is still stiff and his is tenting his slacks. Does he like this shit? Is he getting off on the pain?

He's breathing hard as our eyes lock. "Valentino was too lenient with your family," he growls. "Screw you and your thieving father."

Furious he mentioned my father, I jab him with the prod again and he groans in obvious agony. "You like this? Keep talking about my father. Just keep fucking talking. I can do this all day, Dario."

When I stick him again he arches his back. With his head thrown back, veins bulge in his thick throat. My mouth waters and I'd love to lick and suck the skin of his throat. I must be a fucking nutcase. The more pain he's in, the harder I get. I'm mystified by my reaction to him. I've never been into BDSM shit, but having him squirming under me is definitely a turn on. I can't help myself, and I rub my hand down over his raised crotch.

He shudders, and rumbles, "I thought you weren't going to go near my balls."

"Well, they're right there." I leer.

I startle when he suddenly jolts his hips up, and I fall onto his broad chest. Since I've fallen forward, he's able to clamp his legs around my calves. I'm tilted forward, balancing on my knees, so that our faces are mere inches apart. I'm horrified, yet also excited by the new position. As I look into his dark eyes, the lust and danger I see swirling is exhilarating. I need to do something quick because in this position, he could turn me over and I'd be at his mercy.

"Get your legs off mine, Dario," I demand in a cold voice, gripping the cattle prod tight. He looks so smug, it worries me. Why does he look so freaking calm when I'm the one with the weapon?

He swallows hard, his dark eyes glittering. "You gonna pretend you don't want me?"

I'm sure the position we're in makes it impossible for him to not feel my erection. Still, my pride dictates I deny my desires.

Deny. Deny. Deny.

I say hoarsely, "All I want is for you to let me go."

His upper lip curls in a derisive smile. "Liar." An embarrassing whimper escapes my lips when he thrusts against me slowly, his movements are sensual. Seductive. "Undo my pants and ride me," he whispers, eyes glittering with lust.

Shocked by how much I want to do as he says, I clench my teeth. I'm sickened by how much I'd love to take him up on his offer. The asshole is my prisoner. He's cuffed and on his back in my cellar. Yet the smile he gives me is cocky. Assured. The bastard seriously thinks he has the upper hand, and he's not even completely wrong. I am tempted to give him what we both want.

The only protection I have from the bewildering lust eating away at me is cruelty. So I swiftly jab the prod against the side of his throat, and when he roars in pain and his legs release me, I scramble off of him and retreat toward the cellar stairs. Without looking back, I escape up the steps. Only when I've slammed the big door closed, locking him in the cellar, do I calm down.

Heart pounding, I lean on the door, covered in sweat and breathing hard. There's something weird going on between us. If I'm not very, very careful, Dario will get the upper hand. If I let my guard down again, he'll likely be the one running the show.

I can't let that happen. I owe it to my father's memory to destroy the Black Knives Syndicate. The first step in doing that will be to spill Dario's blood in front of Valentino. Then I'll brutally murder Valentino Syracuse and reclaim all the things that were taken from the Abella Syndicate. I don't just want the ports, as my father wanted. I want it all. I want to run this town and erase the name of Syracuse from people's memories.