Page 38 of The Arrangement

Viviana was definitely in trouble.

It was only then that she realized she could faintly hear the dial tone of the ended call inside her pocket. Viviana fumbled frantically to hit the end button, but Vito was already looking straight at her.

“Stop moving and get your hand out of your pocket, right now.”

She froze. His voice was cold and calculating. The stare he leveled on Viviana felt like it belonged to a predator.

“Don’t fucking look at me,” he hissed.

“Vi—”

“Don’t say my name, either. Don’t beg. I want you to get up, Viviana, and begin walking down the path. Keep walking. Call your stupid mutt and make sure he follows close by. Do you have a weapon?”

Viviana knew better than to lie. “Yeah, it’s in my purse.”

“Toss the bag when you’re inside the pathway and hidden from view. Do you understand?”

“There are three—”

“I know,” he snapped quietly, his brown eyes flashing with warning. “I’m not a fucking idiot and this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been watching you for a couple of days. The two in the car will stay while the one on foot will give you a three to five minute head start. You haven’t walked the mutt today, so let’s take him for one.”

“They’ll see you follow behind.”

A quick movement from behind the bench caught her gaze momentarily, but Vito didn’t seem to take notice of her distraction.

“I just need a head start to get this done. By the time they realize I got up to follow you, it’s already going to be too late. One is at the other side of the pond, the other two are—”

“Right behind you,” Viviana whispered.

Thank you, Anton, she thought as the barrel of a gun was pressed into the back of Vito’s neck.

“Get up and walk, you piece of shit,” Rory ordered.

• • •

The metal door banged open under Anton’s hand. From his head to his feet, the Bratva prince shook. Anyone who looked him in the eye wouldn’t like the sight that stared back.

Blackness, like his eyes had drained of color and life.

Coldness, because his emotions had checked out of the equation an hour ago.

Readiness, as his fingers were already fisting tight before he was close enough to hit.

Death, blood, rage, and hunger.

He was so fucking hungry for those things, now.

“Boss,” Boris greeted quietly.

Anton nodded his hello, eyeing the squirming man tied to the metal chair. In two quick steps he was in front of Vito. Without warning, Anton slammed his white knuckle fist into the already bloody face of the Italian scum that had failed to hurt his Viviana earlier. Just as quickly, he ripped the gag out of the man’s mouth and watched the blood pour as teeth were coughed out.

“Scream,” Anton said coldly. “No one will hear you. No one will care. These men want to hear your pain. They like it. This is going to hurt, but it’ll be quicker if you talk.”

“Like fuck.”

Anton landed a solid punch to the man’s abdomen. More red spewed from Vito’s mouth at the hit as the man fell into a groaning, coughing fit. “Oh, you’ll talk before I’m done. And then I’m going to cut out your tongue and let you drown in your own blood.”

The three other men in the room said nothing as Anton tugged off the T-shirt he wore and tossed it to the side. Shaking the ache out of his fist, he noticed Vito’s flinch at the thought of being hit again.