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“So, you waited almost thirty years to come here just to see me take her out?” This causes him to glance my way. I should kill the fucker, but I have so many questions, and he has all the answers.
“Well, Arthur cared for you, and from the looks of it, made sure you’re a good man.” He rises, taking a few steps toward me, walking around the body on the floor. “I knew you were safe. All these years, I knew my son would follow in my footsteps.”
“What are you talking about?”
As soon as I ask him, he flicks his fingers, and I’m jabbed in the neck by a needle. The warmth trickling through me causes me to mumble something incoherent before I feel the fight draining from my body. I pull the trigger one last time, but I’m weakening, and soon, my eyes flutter closed.
* * *
“Wakey, wakey.” The voice cuts through the throbbing in my head. I groan when I blink once, twice, and by the third time, my eyes are open, and I’m looking at something blurry. “There he is.”
“W-w-where a-am I?” I stammer out, my voice croaky and my throat burning from the words grazing their way up my throat.
“Arthur thinks he can best me,” the man who claims to be my father spits out, and I notice he’s perched on a desk. “Sending my son to kill me is a new one. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
Confusion settles in my head, not helping to clear the fog already from being drugged. I want to speak, but I can’t. The words are stuck in the dryness of my throat.
“You know,” the man says, rising as he rounds the desk. “At first, I knew he’d send someone for me after I stole his seat with the Cartel after you’d gone and killed Sergio,” he informs me. “And when he told me he was going to make me pay, I didn’t know I would get the chance to thank you, son.”
“L-like I-I s-said, my f-father is d-d-dead,” I sputter out the words, but they don’t come out as venomous as I want them to.
He chuckles, waving his hand, and that’s when two large goons round on me, and I feel the pain, but I no longer have a way of getting free. So, I let them pummel me. Fists fly toward my mouth, my eyes, and my stomach. Every inch of me is in pain. And I taste blood.
When I close my eyes, I see her. I focus on Giuliana and the promise I made. She loves me, and she’s waiting for me. I need to get back to her. I can’t give up, but I’m in no condition to fight back. Not at this moment.
Give me time, fucker.
I’ll kill you. I will slice you open slowly, bask in your screams, and revel in your blood. It will be brutal, but it will also be oh so beautiful.
Lance
It’s been a week.
I think.
No, it couldn’t be. Arthur said he’d see me tomorrow. But is that today?
My mind is awash with agony. I can’t form coherent thoughts, and I don’t know why. Last night, I spewed my guts into the bucket in the corner of the room. I’m weak, and the fight that burns through my veins is slowly diminishing. I was meant to be back with Giuliana days ago. I think?
I only know time has passed because each time the door opens, a man walks in dressed in different clothes. Pushing to my feet, I focus on the glass of water beside the bed. I pick it up and take a sip, then another, and another.
The man who’s trying to convince me he’s my father hasn’t returned, and I wonder what his plans for me are. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. He wants revenge on Arthur for what I did to Sergio. Once I’ve emptied the glass, I feel better, but I haven’t eaten in days. I can’t remember the last time I had anything in my stomach.
My body trembles, and it feels as if there’s a fire in my veins. Confusion settles once more, and the room is spinning. I can’t make it stop, so I push to my feet in the hopes of centering myself.
Placing both palms against the wall, I focus on Giuliana. Her voice and her smile, they haunt me daily. I should’ve been out of here, back in her arms. But because of her father, I’m locked up in this shithole.
Breathing deeply, I attempt to calm my racing heartbeat. With my eyes closed, the spinning stops, and I can feel my limbs tingle. They must’ve drugged me. I’ve never touched the stuff because I saw what it did to my mother. I know I can fight it. I can push through this niggling that I need more. As if I’m addicted to the feeling that’s so foreign to me.
The clinking of locks alerts me that someone is coming. I don’t turn around when the metal door grates along the floor. Heavy footsteps thud into the room, and a tray is placed on the bed.
“Eat. He wants you to finish this tonight,” the gruff voice informs me.
“Finish what?” I glance over my shoulder, taking in the hulk of a man. He reminds me of Bors. We used to spar on the grounds of the Tabella mansion. I miss the asshole.
“You’ll see.” His smirk is devious, and I have a feeling I don’t want to know. The door is shut once more, and I’m left alone with a plate of food. I can’t eat too fast, even though my body is raging for it.
When the door opens again a few hours later, I’m met with the eyes of my so-called father. He steps into the room, holding out his hand, offering me my gun.
