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“Yes, boss,” Tony nodded and exited.
I took a deep breath as Arianna pulled herself off the floor and huddled up to Matteo.
This was not how this night was supposed to go. It was an understatement of epic proportions but it wouldn’t stop playing on rerun in my head. Flashes of Becka’s terrified face assaulted my mind. Then the image of her fighting for her freedom and her head smacking the floor physically hurt my chest. My hands bunched into fists in my pockets.
Everything about this night was none of her fault but she was going to suffer the most because of it. Then I cursed my sick depraved soul for feeling a faint hint of eagerness for what was going to happen next.
You’re a sick bastard.
Noises came from the corridor outside.
“LET GO OF ME!” Her high pitched scream came screeching through the air. Becka. My stomach rolled at the desperate tone in her voice.
I shot up from the windowsill I was leaning against. The last time I saw her she was still unconscious in the back of Matteo’s car. I’d been expecting her to be carried in and needing to be woken up. Not hardly.
The double doors to the office crashed open to Becka thrashing in Nico and Mark’s grips. They were on either side, each constricting one wrist. Mark had her hair fisted in one of his huge hands trying to subdue her, causing her face to pinch in pain.
I could barely stand to watch. They were hurting her, making me fume with rage. Everything inside me screamed to go to her, to tell them to take their fucking hands off her.
But I held firm. Any show of emotion would be seen as a weakness to the one person in the room you did not show your weakness too. Weakness was not tolerated.
She is not going to be my weakness.
