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CHAPTERONE

DOM STARED DOWN at the flecks of red staining the sleeve of his elegantly pressed white shirt and scowled.

Fucking Fiore swine.

“I told you. I-I don’t know nothin’.”

Dom’s eyes shifted back to the man bound to the chair bruised and battered by his hand. The cut in his lip had split wider, and his voice was beginning to shake a little, but even this recent inductee to the enemy’s family knew better than to start spilling secrets.

But Dom wasn’t worried. They’d come out eventually, and the sooner this guy started talking, the more there’d be left of him.

“You mean you don’t knowanything?”

Confusion marred the man’s brow. “That’s what I said.”

“No.” Dom leaned down, gripping the halfwit’s tied wrists as he moved in so they were nose to nose. There it was—the smallest flicker of fear flashing in his eyes, but a blink later and the defiance had returned. “You said ‘nothin’.’ Is it your boss’s common practice to swipe you before you graduate, or are you all naturally this obtuse?”

The man opened his mouth to answer when Dom added, “Actually, don’t bother. You should probably save your breath instead.”

Lightning fast, he gripped the guy’s throat, digging his thumb and fingers in deep until the force of his hold had the chair canting back on its two rear legs.

“Oh, see, now that’s the smartest response you’ve given me all day.”

Fiore’s lackey narrowed his eyes, clearly confused, since he hadn’t said shit.

“Your flight response. It’s hammering at my fingertips.” Dom pressed his fingers a little harder against the guy’s racing pulse, the strength of his fingers making it increasingly difficult for the guy to breathe. “You know how this goes. You tell me what I want to know, or you never tell anyone anything again.”

Bulging eyes blinked up at him. The code of silence was often the most difficult oath to keep under these kinds of circumstances. But Dom had to give the guy credit—he hadn’t faltered…yet.

“There’s word the Fiores had a little family reunion the other day. Well, calling it a familyreunionmight be a bit of a stretch, considering two of the three family heads are”—Dom gave an almost maniacal grin—“dead.”

He cocked his head to the side, sizing up the man in his grasp. “Are you trying to tell me you weren’t invited? Because if you’re that unimportant then we have the wrong guy, and you know what that means.”

The guy squirmed under Dom’s penetrating stare, the fear from seconds ago flickering in his eyes again.

“What was your name again? Or should I send you back in a body bag with no note?”

He clenched his jaw but then spat out, “Ennio.”

“Ah, Ennio. Is that with two Ns?” When the man locked eyes with him, Dom smirked. “Just making sure that lack of education doesn’t affect your headstone.”

“Vaffanculo.”

Without warning, Dom released his hold, causing the chair to slam back down on four legs so hard that Ennio winced. Reaching down to the holster at his ankle, Dom slid out the knife he always carried and took pleasure at the way Ennio’s eyes latched on to the smooth, sharp steel.

“Ennio,” he said, letting the word roll around on his tongue as he slid his finger along the flat of the knife. “A good, strong Italian name for such a coward.” He let that sink in as he began to slowly pace the length of the basement. So dark, so quiet, so hidden in the bowels of the glitzy high-rise casino in the middle of Manhattan. Down here, no one could hear you scream.

Which was about to come in handy.

Once again, Dom’s eyes caught on the blood staining the sleeve of his shirt. It was custom-made Versace, the only kind he deigned to wear, and the fact that a Fiore had been the one to spoil such a masterpiece made his blood boil. If the man didn’t prove useful, Dom was going to especially enjoy this.

Still pacing, Dom flipped the knife up in the air, easily catching the handle.

“Ennio, I’m afraid my patience is running out. But I’m a reasonable man. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what I want to know.”

“For the last time, I don’t know noth—” Ennio’s lies cut off with a scream that echoed off the walls as Dom stabbed the knife into his right hand, so deep that the steel anchored itself to the chair, pinning Ennio in place as he wailed.

But that wasn’t the only weapon Dom carried on him, and as he reached down for another knife, he thought of all the ways he’d make this piece of shit suffer. He was taking a step toward Ennio, about to go to work, when the door to the basement slammed open. Dom turned his head to see who dared interrupt him.

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