Chapter 26

TWENTY-SIX

Chains drape from the ceiling of the long, darkened hall the four of us–including Nada–walk through in silence. Adrenaline ignites within my veins, still reeling from the unexpected high, Colson and I rode together – that we were interrupted from – as we approach the end of the hallway. Now that I know where this place is, the coffin shape of the steel door in front of us makes sense–it matches the doors to the private rooms upstairs.

“Carmine, what is this place?” I ask, his back still facing us as he places his hand on the door handle, but of course he doesn’t answer. Instead, he lowers his hand to Nada, who is perched up, standing on his hind legs.

“Primo!” I fume, not bothering to diminish an ounce of exasperation in my tone. “What the fuck is this? Why did you bring us here?”

“Calm down, prima. You’re alive, aren’t you?” he asks, scratching behind Nada’s head before standing again, now reaching and lowering the handle too slowly for my liking. “Aren’t you?” he repeats.

The hinges of the metal door before us groan as he pushes it open. The silence from before is a distant memory as a cacophony of noises berate our eardrums, though none of them are what I expect. I anticipated screaming, or Brett pleading for his life, since–last I checked–he was tied up. But none of that sounds.

With the door fully open, the crimson hue of the walls and the lighting strikes me, as do the moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls. The music playing in the background is sultry and calm, but it’s merely a backdrop to the scene before me. Masked men and women are everywhere. Some are naked, others are clothed and dancing. There’s alcohol being served at the bar that’s across from the stage centered amongst the feral chaos. The stage looks like it should house a few stripper poles, but as we walk towards it, I can see it’s a runway that people appear to be taking turns running down, with different masked suitors chasing them and pinning them against the wall. Whatever this place is, it looks like heaven compared to the side me and Colson had to go through to get here.

The song that’s playing ends and in its place is Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” booming through the speakers. Heat runs rampant through my face, thinking back to how this exact song –which is one of my favorites– was playing as Colson pinned me to the axe wall. Fuck, that was so hot. Well, all of it was.

Carmine turns around, cupping his hand in front of his mouth. “This way,” he shouts, competing with the music.

We both nod as we follow him away from what looks like a horror sex club. Though as we continue to walk, I can’t help but notice that Colson hasn’t taken his eyes off me. Not even when the bombshell with the Jason mask walked past him, eyeing him up and down. He continues to keep his gaze on me the entire time we make our way out of the crowded room, until we reach a dead end through yet another long, dimly lit hall.

“This place is a fucking maze,” I huff out.

“Yep, it is, but this–” Carmine stops, his voice singsongs as he reaches into his pocket and retrieving a dog bone, he tosses it to Nada, whose tail wags happily, snatching the treat in his jaw before scurrying away back into the crowd.

“Um, Car, is he going to be, okay?” I ask, already losing sight of Nada in the crowd.

Carmine places his hand on the wall and a square light appears beneath it. The scanner starts to trace the outline of his hand before flashing green and unlocking the concealed door. “Yep, he’ll be fine.” His voice drifts as he pushes the door open. “The regulars are used to him being here, they’ll take care of him. Plus, I don’t want him to be here for this.”

“For what?” I ask stupidly, as if I don’t already know what’s awaiting us.

“This,” Sienna’s feminine voice breaks the silence. She slinks towards Colson and me, ripping off the black skeleton mask on her face and tossing it to the floor, the stitched pattern of ink that scatters all over her body now visible from her wardrobe change. No longer in the all-black one piece with gloves, she extends her hand for Colson to shake.

“Welcome,” she says so nonchalantly it’s almost laughable. As if she wasn’t the one orchestrating her jigsaw-esque games. “You two are something, you know that? When we opened this place, I could have only hoped for a pair with this much chemistry to come through these walls. I mean, we did have one throuple. God, they were so hot together. The girl had these long black braids that her motorcycle club boyfriends both used as reins. Fuck, it was a sight, but you two really gave them a run for their money,” she says with ample glee.

“Sienna, respectfully, what the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, bursting her bubble.

She sighs, spinning on her heel to face the wall of computer screens that are surveilling every inch of this place. Her heels tap against the cement floor, echoing with each step as she makes her way closer to the elephant in the room…good ol’ Brett.

“You see, when your cousin suggested using the square footage, we had below Satan’s to expand the more legitimate parts of our business, I was on board. I mean, times are tough, even for us, so I’m all for anything to add a little extra revenue. We obviously wanted to keep the same theme as we have upstairs and at The Sandy Claws in the city. We wanted it to be sexy, gothic, and unapologetically dark, but…” she trails off, circling Brett’s chair. Lifting her hand to his mouth, she teases him by pulling at the filthy fabric sandwiched between his teeth, “that just didn’t feel like it’d be enough. I mean yes, this place has given me ample inspiration for my writing. Let me tell you, the things people are willing to do – to be – when anonymity and discretion are up for grabs, it’s a romance author’s dream. Or wet dream,” she pauses to laugh.

“Mi Reina, please,” Carmine urges her, but he too is trying to stifle a laugh.

A long-winded sigh cuts her laughter as Sienna clears her throat to continue. “But we have soundproof walls down here and a list of enemies that could benefit from having the shit scared out of them before they meet their maker. That’s where this fuck comes in.” She yanks the cloth from Brett’s mouth. Immediately, he gasps for air, practically signaling Carmine to charge him with a ready fist to the jaw.

Blood splatters from Brett’s mouth as Carmine winds up again for another blow.

I turn to Colson, expecting him to protest against Carmine beating his brother, but instead he stands there, emotionless.

“Is it true?” Colson seethes, his question addressed to both Carmine and Sienna. They exchange a quick glance, speaking in silent code to one another as Carmine lays one more punch into Brett’s cheek for good measure.

“Which part?” he asks, now fixing his shifted shirt to answer Colson.

“All of it,” Colson deadpans through a tense jaw.

“Wait,” Sienna calls out as her heels click, this time towards the small table beneath the projector. A small stack of papers in hand, she walks them over to Colson. “Here,” she says, inching back to meet Carmine, lacing her arm through his. Colson’s jaw tightens and, even through the scruff on his cheek, I see how wound up he physically is. In silence, he studies each of the pages, his gaze scanning every inch of the writing on them repeatedly.

“I don’t get it,” Colson glowers, keeping his fiery stare on the documents.

“Of course, you don’t,” Brett interjects, his voice barely audible. The swelling on his face has traveled from his eyes to his cut nose and busted lips. “It’s her…her…fault,” he adds, stammering.

The papers crumple in Colson’s grip. Tossing the ball of scrunched paper to the ground, he stalks toward Brett.

“No, brother,” Colson drags with condescending emphasis. “What I don’t understand is how we share DNA. It may not be from the same two parents, but mom was your mom just as much as she was mine, and yet you let your father fill your head with delusions. You allowed him to poison you with his ruthless crusade against our mother. You know just as well as I do that he treated her like shit. He was an abusive, drunken monster, but he had something that you dreamed about.” Colson lifts one of the documents. A laugh emerges from deep in his throat. “The money, the power, all of it, except there was one problem. In all your years of being his little protégé, you somehow surpassed his level of maliciousness, because when you found out that half the Cromwell fortune belongs to me, you couldn’t accept it. So, tell me brother, the hitman that you hired for Raiden, was that before or after you paid for the hit on me? Did you figure you’d have her die first so you could test me and see how I would suffer only to slip the rug out from beneath my feet and kill me too?” He spits right on Brett’s bloodied face as he adheres a vicious grip on either side of the chair, rocking it back and forth. “Answer me, you pathetic fuck!” he demands.

“Yes,” Brett cries, “but it’s still not too late, you know.” He whimpers, and it’s astonishing how even in circumstances like this, he still has a delusional arrogance that turns my stomach. Not that Colson isn’t arrogant, but when you’re hung the way he is and fuck like he does, you get a pass, at least in my book. But the same can’t be said for Brett.

I join Colson because I recognize that look in his eye. That’s the look a person gets when they’ve surpassed the level of caring that’s needed to do what society wants. To turn the other cheek, to give an undeserving fool another chance. Those things may work for some, but they don’t solve anything. They also don’t bring back the ones you’ve lost either. Forgiveness is so fleeting, and severely overrated. It’s just an emotional band-aid for those who can’t seek vengeance. But here, in this soundproof oasis, vengeance isn’t just accepted, it’s encouraged.

My hand skims over Colson’s arm, caressing it with light strokes up and down the protruding muscle, signaling to him that I support him and, if anything, I want to help. I’ve dreamed of having Brett suffer so many times that I’ll be damned if I miss a moment of his death or let it not be at my own hands.

Colson’s throat clears, giving way to that delicious rasp of his. “Is that why you didn’t cry?” he asks cryptically. This isn’t about me anymore. This is about the betrayal between two brothers.

Brett’s head hangs low, shame riddling his expression, though he doesn’t answer.

The chair skids against the floor as Colson yanks it forward only to push it back again. “I asked you a fucking question, pendejo,” he spits.

Oh my god, look at my pendejo using the word correctly, and aggressively. I could come again just from the way his Spanish sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. Ha, I’ll make sure he learns more, so once we’re out of here he can practice on me all he needs, just as long as he’s flicking that tongue between my thighs. He’s a Demonio after all; our language, the culture, all of it, is in him, it was simply overshadowed by the incubus that is the Cromwell name.

Unexpectedly Brett laughs. “Why would I cry for a woman that meant nothing to me?” he spews like the ungrateful prick he is.

“Take it back,” Colson roars, tossing Brett and the chair he’s practically glued to on the floor.

But Brett being his usual douchebag self doesn’t, he only piles on the vile things he says just so he can get under Colson’s skin.

“Mom hated me, she loved you. Of course, her death didn’t make me cry, if anything I felt relieved.”

Standing over him, Colson stomps on Brett’s leg before kicking him. Brett screeches in pain, while Colson inflicts the same treatment onto Brett’s other leg. “She didn’t hate you. She just saw how much you were like your father and she was afraid of you.” Colson spews, anger laced within his every word.

“You’re lying,” Brett whines. “You fucking hypocrite. Why didn’t you cry when you found out dad died in jail?” His words are shakier with each syllable, but he’s persistent and continues. “But her, that stupid fucking cunt over there, that’s who you care about. I should have killed her myself. It would have spared us all of this.” His pathetic words end when Colson slams his foot down on Brett’s jaw. Since the beatings he’s gotten so far haven’t done jack shit to shut him up, perhaps a nice broken jaw will do the trick. Colson leaves his foot on the shattered bone, which crunches beneath his weight.

I watch Colson stand over his sobbing brother. Justice and relief flood his every pore, and I swear he’s never looked hotter. I could fucking lick him right now, but given that we’ve put on enough of a free show, and that Carmine is now next to him, I refrain.

Axe in one hand, Carmine taps on Colson’s shoulder. “It won’t bring your mother back, but it might make you feel better,” Carmine says, offering Colson the axe.

I watch Colson’s grip tighten around the handle. He wants to swing it, but it’s obvious that he’s never killed before, let alone killed a family member, even if they deserve it.

“Ay dios mío,” I mutter, shaking my head at Carmine. “You can’t just hand him a fucking axe like it has magical powers that will automatically give him the ability to kill.”

Sienna giggles. “Yeah, papi. Big boy over there only knows how to tease her with it, that doesn’t make him a killer,” she teases Carmine. I love how she loves to mess with him just as much as I do.

“Yeah, Carmie. I’d be careful if I were you, who knows where I’ll have him stick the axe next,” I wink, feeding off Sienna’s playful energy.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Carmine tosses his hands up in the air. “Even now, at the most inappropriate of times, you two have to make crude jokes,” he huffs, shaking his head.

“It helps lighten the mood,” I mumble, reaching for the axe in Colson’s hand, but his grip only tightens.

I tug it, pulling it toward me, but he yanks it closer to him. “Colson,” I drag, “You don’t have to do this. You can still have the money, the house, all of it, just let me do it.”

A raw groan like I’ve never witnessed before sounds, echoing against the concrete walls as he seizes the axe in his hand and tosses it to the ground.

Startled, I step back, but Colson reaches for me, twirling me around and into him. “Fuck the house, the money, fuck all of it. I’m just so fucking tired.” His voice cracks, but his stern expression does not falter. Inhaling a long breath, he continues. “I am just so fucking tired of men like my brother and his father using what they have to destroy people’s lives. It’s that greed that killed my mother’s spirit long before she was sent to an early grave, and it was that same malicious ignorance that cost my biological father and yours their lives for trying to do the right thing.” He takes another ragged breath before slowly releasing his air in my face. “And to top it all off, he was going to have you killed. Just another thing that I–”

I stop him, placing my finger on his lips. “Don’t say love,” I correct him. “This,” I move my other hand between us, “is not love. It’s–”

He moves my finger from his lips and glides it over to my own to shush me. “It’s not love, you’re right. I don’t know you enough to say I love you. If anything, what we have is far more complicated than that. I mean, I love the way you can’t help yourself and always find ways to say the most off-the-cuff, bratty things no matter the situation. I also love the way that you think you need to take on every battle on your own because you’re used to being strong. And yes, I also love the way that—” a grin spreads on his face as he moves his stare from where he holds me hostage, over to Carmine and Sienna. “Um, you two might want to cover your ears for this one.” He winks.

Carmine looks at Sienna, already cupping his hands at his ears. “Yes, please. Unlike my wife, I’d rather not hear whatever fucked up thing you’re about to say about my cousin. Which by the way, buddy, after this is over and I offer you a job—which you will accept—we need to talk about this degrading shit you’re into. I guess your stand-in father never taught you how to praise a lover, huh?”

Sienna cackles. “Oh please, you grump. Praise is your thing, it’s obviously not Raiden’s, and, if I remember correctly, your stand-in father didn’t help you out on that front either. You just learned what I liked on your own. So let them have their moment,” she jokes, motioning for him to step outside the room. “We’ll be on the other side of the door, just call when you need us.” She winks at me.

“Wait,” Colson calls out. “What do you mean job?”

“I mean that both of your father’s wanted to form an alliance, right? That way when you two got together and Alistair and Brett died the way they had originally planned everything would go to you both. Alistair’s already dead as we all know, but the will has remained the same, only obstacle in your way Colson, is him. So, if you are willing to do what needs to be done to end the vile chapter that is the Cromwell’s existence, I figure what better way to honor both of your father’s then to have you work with us. Victor was my uncle after all,” Carmine subtly winces after the mention of my father. Dad treated him like a son since his own dad was an absolute piece of shit.

“But you’re a Moretti?” Colson blurts.

Carmine chuckles softly, “Yes, you’re correct. My father’s last name was Moretti. But my loyalty and my heart belongs to my mother’s side of the family. See, Colson, even if the blood of our makers runs through us, we still have the right to deny one or both parties, if our heart does not align with the DNA they contributed. Trust me, I learned that the hard way. Seeing how well you both work together, maybe your fathers were onto something. Or maybe it was fate, who knows. But I think having you on the team will be good for all of us,” Carmine gaze now skating both me and Colson. “We can discuss more after,” he ends his speech with a nod, as he and Sienna exit the room.

Once the door slams, Colson drops the axe before bending to re-gag a half-conscious Brett before turning back to me. His large palm skates across my chin, caressing it with rough, soothing strokes that ignite a spark within me, something his brother, or anyone else for that matter, could never do.

“You were saying,” I nudge him to continue.

His hand moves from my chin to a tendril of hair that escaped being tucked behind my ear. “I love how I feel inside you. I love how angry and turned on you can make me at the same time. There’s a lot I love about you, but there’s so much more I want—and need—to learn about you so that this lust that exists between us, that pushes us to challenge and please the other, can turn into the one thing that means more to me than the fortune that awaits me: knowing what it feels like to be loved by the beautiful, feisty, and maddening Raiden Gabriella Ramos. So please, let me do this…for you.”

He drops my hair, already halfway to picking up the axe, but I stop him. My heart is racing a mile a minute from his words, and I know he means them, but I don’t think he’s prepared to kill someone.

“Wait,” I yell out, reaching for the axe in his possession.

“Raiden,” he urges.

“I can do it. I want to,” I offer, literally wanting nothing more than to sever the fucking head of the asshole I had to pretend to tolerate for months.

Colson clicks his tongue. “He deserves what’s coming to him. He chose his father over our mother, and he was willing to pay for both of us to be killed. I want to do this.”

“I know, but death is something that stays with you. Even if the person deserves it, the aftermath is all the same. Guilt runs in the blood. It will stain your hands and, eventually, it will begin to stain who you are as a person,” I choke out, not realizing how much my own words are affecting me. “You’re such a good man,” I continue, “I don’t want to see you lose what makes you who you are, not over something that I can do for you.”

“Raiden, another thing I love about you is your stubbornness, but if you think for a fucking second that I wouldn’t kill my own flesh and blood for even threatening to hurt you, then you don’t know me at all. And if for whatever reason you don’t think you’re worth that sacrifice, then you don’t know your own worth.” His words drive as deep as a knife to my heart because I know he means every word he said.

I blush, defaulting to my playful sarcasm as I usually do when I’m trying to deflect having to actually feel emotions. “Such a romantic,” I coo, fanning myself, but seriously…that is the most romantic thing that’s ever been said to me–ever.

“Boo,” a voice shouts, disrupting our moment as the door bursts open to reveal none other than Blair and Delilah. Delilah’s blue hair shakes as she tries to stop Blair from coming inside the room.

“What are you two doing here?” I ask, although considering we’re standing below Satan’s I already know the answer.

“Working, duh. When I heard Maddox and the DJ brought you two here, I had to come down and join in on the fun,” Blair winks.

“Blair,” Delilah playfully scolds, “get the fuck over here!”

Ignoring Delilah, Blair saunters over to Colson. Her all-black bodysuit the same as the one the masked woman wore from before, which means she was one of the henchmen as Sienna put it. Of course, don’t tempt Blair with a good time, if kidnapping and torture are on the menu.

Standing in front of him, she runs her manicured hand from his sternum up to his chin. “Come on, pretty boy, if you don’t do it, I’ll gladly kill him for you. No skin off my back, I always have my clean-up crew on deck,” she looks at me, winking.

“Trust me girl,” I interrupt, “we all know. Now, hands off him,” I grin teasingly. “I have this handled,” I reassure her, but stubborn Blair remains, heels planted on the ground, assessing the room.

“Ugh fine,” she sighs in dramatic defeat. She pivots halfway before she stops. “Oh, Colson. I have a message for you. She clears her throat, lowering her tone in a mocking baritone. “You kick a man in the balls, you better prepare for what’s next,” she stops to laugh, “sincerely, Madness. I would channel his rasp again but my throat hurts,” she winks, obviously referring to her curse of a man, Maddox. Blair reaches in her pocket and a second later, tosses Colson’s vape his way. Relief spreads over Colson’s entire body as he catches it, immediately pressing the heat setting button so he can rip a hit. “Also, he said you’re probably missing this,” she laughs, now walking to meet Delilah standing in the doorway.

“He’s cute,” Delilah chimes in, “no wonder you named your vibrator after him.” Of course, she had to add that, as if the video footage wasn’t proof of that enough.

“D!” I shout at her, my face turning bright red.

“Oh my god, girl, chill it’s fine. You see the way he smirked when I said that?” she teases before clapping her hands to get Blair’s attention. “Let’s go, mama.” Delilah motions to Blair as they stubbornly walk back out the door, their hands interlaced.

“Sorry,” I giggle, “my family and friends are nuts. Well, fuck that, a lot nuts–” my words are clipped by his lips on mine. He kisses me, tossing the axe down, making Brett whine as it slams on the ground. “You changed your mind, I see?” I ask, breaking our kiss, but my question is ignored as he swoops me up into his arms. My thighs clench around his body as he squeezes me.

“Nope, that motherfucker is as good as dead. But I have a better way for him to go,” he winks before diving his tongue into my ready mouth, sealing his words with a passionate kiss.

“What do you have in mind then?” I murmur against his lips.

“I think I’d kill better with one more,” he groans, looking past me to the looking glass where we can’t see Sienna and Carmine but know they’re watching. Colson nudges his head to the back wall and like fucking magic, another door opens.

With me locked in his hold, he walks us through the doorway. The cold bites at my skin, just like it did when we were first dragged here. “One more what?” I ask, with brows arched and an eager grin.

“Chase,” he deadpans, placing me down on the ground. “I’ll give you a head start. Lead us to the maze that gives way to the axe throwing wall again.”

“Fine,” I playfully scoff, anticipation rattling my every sense as I stare at my devil, who’s ready to chase and pin me once more.

“You better run, because when I get you-”

“You’re going to trap me?” I squeal excitedly, already jogging.

“Yes, and never let you go.”