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“He showed you mercy today, Franco. I personally would love to see you suffer. Be the one to end your life for fucking mine up. You are only alive because he has deemed it. Make no mistake, if you don’t bleed out to death and for some stupid, fucking reason to ever show your face again… I won’t hesitate to torture you to death.” Dom says this with his gun under Franco’s chin, so he’s looking up at him, seeing the promised threat in his dark eyes.
To emphasize his point, Dom leans forward and placeshis fingers on the stab wound, digging his digits into Franco’s flesh as he sits there, grunting in agony.
“Son.” Franco gasps out and glances over to Logan with pleading eyes.
“You're already dead to me,” Logan says in a hollow voice with no emotion as he glances away from his father, whom he once looked up to.
“Let’s get out of here.” I wrap my arm around his waist, sticking to his side for support as we turn away and start to leave while Dom nods his head to go. He’ll follow along shortly, no doubt not done with threatening Franco, but the next words stop me in my tracks with the blood draining from my face.
“Cru-Cruz wants m-me to give you a-a mess-message,” Franco says between gasps.
I almost don’t twist around. I want to walk out the door and pretend I never heard him. But I can’t. No more running.
Logan turns with me, his posture stiff, and suddenly he’s the one having to hold me up.
“My pocke-t,” Franco stutters out with a cough and weakly pulls out something in his suit jacket with weak hands.
Dom quickly grabs it. His expression is worried, his brown eyes wide as he looks at the object in his grasp before peering over at me.
“What is it this time?” I choke out, my hands gripping Logan’s jacket as my heart starts pounding in dread.
“I don’t think—" Dom trails off and glances at Logan as they silently communicate over my head.
“Just show me,” I demand with a deep exhale and will my hands to stop shaking.
“Maybe this isn’t the right time, baby girl. Let’s go to thecompound and sit down,” Logan starts to say, but I glare up at him and lift my chin.
“I’m not weak or a damsel in distress. I can take it. Fucking show me,” I demand in a stern voice, not looking away from him until he lets out a sigh and nods towards Dom.
Swinging my gaze over, Dom hesitates and strides towards me with determined steps.
“I don’t know what this means, mama, but whatever it is, we’ll face it together,” Dom promises as he looks down at me with overprotectiveness in his eyes that’s slightly tender at the same time.
I hold my hand out, watching his one eye twitch as if he’s about to change his mind, except he sees the stubborn expression on my face. He gently places the object in my hand while holding my gaze, and I bite my lip, afraid to look down.
“You're safe. No one will hurt you,” Logan whispers in my ear, rubbing my back with soothing strokes.
“Son,” Franco whispers pleadingly behind us, his voice weak.
We ignore him as both Dom and Logan walk me out of the kitchen and into the hallway so we don’t have to listen to Franco shouting for his son to come back.
Gathering courage, I look down at my palm and blink rapidly, not believing what I’m seeing at first. It’s a finger—a male index finger, judging by the size and thickness. I stare in confusion, my heart racing as I try to understand what the message means.
Cruz sent me a finger.
My attention is drawn towards the shiny ring still on the digit. I hold it up to the light and feel my hand slacken its grip on the finger in shock.
“Baby girl?” Logan asks in concern, tightening his grip on me as I sway on my feet.
“Do you know who that belongs to?” Dom crouches down to my height as black dots blur my vision.
"Rig," I rasp just before passing out.
Franco
“Son.” I reach towards my only child, watching him turn his back on me. He doesn’t look back as I lay bleeding on the dining room floor.
Everything I knew was a complete lie.
