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Turning my back on him, I set my eyes on my next target—Ethan. I’m not going to do to him what I’ve done to Federico. I’m not even going to touch Bianca. That’s up to Christian and Leo to decide. I already know from what Nicolo informed me of the fact she was the informant and sent those pictures to Blake the day she was kidnapped.
Diego steps out from in front of the unlocked cell door he’d been guarding. No one speaks, well, besides the two within the cell begging for their lives.
Opening the door, I stalk toward Ethan like the prey he is. The bastard eyes me and steps backward until he’s pressed against the cell wall. Then he does something I should’ve known he’d do because of the fact he’s a pussy. He pisses his pants.
“Plea—Please. I’m sorry, don’t kill me,” Ethan whimpers pathetically.
“Did my woman beg you to stop?” I snap, reaching out and snatching him by the back of his head. I step sideways and throw him to the floor. Without giving him a chance to scamper backward, I’m on him, lifting him up by his throat.
Ethan opens his mouth, trying to suck air in, looking like a fish out of water. His eyes bug out, and I give him a sadistic grin. Without releasing him, I drag him to the far wall, and with Nicolo and Tizio’s help, we chain him the way he had Blake chained.
Releasing my grasp on his throat, I spin on my heel and step over to my table and pick up the butane torch. “Since I don’t have a branding iron, this will have to do,” I state, switching it on. With my free hand, I take the top off the dry ice. I use a pair of tongs to pick up a cube.
Satisfied, I envision exactly where the bastard branded Blake. Taking my time, I drag the torch along his skin, following behind with the dry ice.
I don’t know how long I use the flame against Ethan’s skin before finally switching to something else. I decide to go with the whip, laying into his skin, savoring the way he screams in agony at each slow crack of it sailing through the air then landing against his flesh—tearing into it like it were butter.
Time passes, and I grow bored with Ethan and his pathetic whimpers. I drop the handle to the whip and pull out my gun, closing the distance between the two of us. I press the muzzle against the side of his head.
“Before I end your miserable life, tell me who else helped you,” I demand cocking the gun.
Ethan weakly lifts his head and meets my eyes. “Go to hell,” he rasps, spitting blood.
“You first,” I sneer and pull the trigger. Ethan’s brain splatters against the wall, splashing everywhere it can touch. I know Blake will tell me. I’m positive that she knows who else helped them. It’s why I’m not bothered by him not answering.
Breathing a harsh breath, I glance between Federico’s body hanging there and Ethan’s against the wall. Done with this shit, I pivot to face Leo and Christian. “You need me. I’ll be at the hospital,” I announce gruffly.
“Might want to shower first,” Christian states pointing at my shirt. “You got Ethan’s brains splattered on your shirt.”
I shrug and look down. This is nothing new. I’m not afraid of getting messy, hence the reason for the locker room we’ve got off to the opposite side of the cells. It’s a door that leads to a room with showers and space for us to store extra clothes for times like this. “Call me if you need me for anything else.”
With my parting words, I head to the locker room. The sooner I get cleaned up, the sooner I get back to Blake.
ChapterFifteen
BLAKE
Two Weeks Later . . .
I wake up shooting into a sitting position, gasping for breath.
“Snowflake?” Theo calls my name with a sleep-filled tone as he sits up and pulls me into his arms.
Tears spill down my cheeks, and I’m unable to control them.
“Shh, baby, I’ve got you. It’s just a nightmare.” But it wasn’t. It’s memories of everything I endured at the hands of Ethan and my parents.
I’ve been home from the hospital for a few weeks now, and the nightmares don’t seem to be getting better. My casted hand moves to rest on my small bump that’s now starting to show. After everything, we’re lucky we didn’t lose the baby I knew nothing about until the doctor and Theo told me.
Theo pulls me deeper into his warmth, and I remember when I woke up to find him there sitting in a chair—head angled in a wonky position.
* * *
Beeping sounds fill my ears, giving me a headache. I wish someone could do something about the sound. Make it go away. Prying my eyes open, I roll my head on the pillow and stop when I spot Theo. God, even sleeping in an uncomfortable position, he’s still the most beautiful sight to see first thing.
I reluctantly stop staring at Theo and move to glance around the room, finding we’re alone. Then I glance down and gasp. One of my hands has an IV running through it. The other has a cast. Further down, I notice my leg is also in a cast. It’s then I remember Ethan snapping my wrist as punishment for not agreeing to him first, and he took a crowbar against my leg.
Panic starts seeping in, and tears well in my eyes. I reach my casted hand up to pull the IV out of the back of my hand. My only thoughts are on escaping.
