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“Something funny?” Cassio demands, gripping the collar of my shirt and jerking me forward until I meet his eyes.
My vision pulses a little, his face jumping in front of me.
“Is it just me? Or are you guys getting a strong sense of deja vu?” I goad.
“Seems someone’s picked up a sense of humor,” Nicolo mocks.
My lips curl up in a wicked smile. “It’s always been there. I guess most of my jokes just go right over your oversized head.”
“Seriously, I’ve never wanted to start cutting a person up so badly in my life,” Cassio growls, pacing back toward his brothers before turning to face me again.
I take the opportunity to assess my surroundings. It’s not the club they dragged me to the first time they tried to intimidate me. It looks more like a warehouse. A large one with wooden crates lining the walls and filling a large portion of the space.
“You boys venturing into the drug trade?” I observe, taking note of the tightly wrapped kilos of white powder stacked on top of one crate.
“I think you might want to be a bit more concerned with your own well-being and less about where you are right now,” Cassio observes dryly.
“Oh? And why is that?” I turn to study him, glad to find my vision and thoughts are finally sharpening.
“Because you’re about to die,” Nicolo states flatly.
I can’t help but laugh.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” the Marchetti heir snaps, rising from his spot on the work table.
“Look, guys. You can’t pull the same tactic twice and expect it to work. I’ll admit, the first time you did this stunt, you might have had me going for a second. But seriously, same shit, different day. Can’t we just skip to the part where you warn me to keep my hands off your sister, and then you make me find my own way home? I actually had an important meeting that you’ve made me pretty fucking late for, so if you don’t mind, can we speed things up?”
I catch the glint of brass knuckles on Nicolo’s fist a moment before it collides with my jaw, and my head snaps violently to the right. Coppery liquid coats my tongue and lips, and I spit the excess onto the floor before turning to look up at him.
“We’re not here to deliver a warning today,” he says, his voice low and menacing.
His hazel eyes–shockingly similar to Silvia’s, enough so that they bring her face to my mind–glint with a hatred that unsettles me.
“I told you if you ever made my sister cry again, I would make you wish you’d never been born,” he hisses.
And this time, I can see all three of them are in agreement.
Fuck.
“You do this, and you’ll start a war,” I warn, turning serious.
“Better that than letting you touch our sister ever again, you demonic fuck,” Cassio snaps.
He steps up beside Nicolo, and Nicolo moves aside to reveal the crowbar in his brother’s grasp. Gritting my teeth, I tense, bracing myself for the impending blow.
Cassio swings the crowbar like an athlete, aiming low. And when it connects with my ribs, searing pain accompanies the sickening crunch. I snarl, almost unable to stay completely silent but unwilling to release the scream of agony clambering up my throat.
I glare up at him, baring my teeth as I fight through the pain, and I wonder if they might actually plan on killing me tonight.
Next comes Lucca, and from the set of his jaw, I know he’s not going to be the voice of reason this time. He twirls a knife in his hand, a dark smile spreading across his face.
“Don’t let him bleed out too quickly, Lucca. I want him to get the full experience,” Nicolo says.
“Agreed.”
Lucca slashes out, his movement so fast his hand almost blurs, and a line like fire lights across my chest.
It becomes a relentless cycle, one brother taking his turn before stepping aside for the next, leaving me no time to catch my breath or even anticipate the next blow. A punch to my temple sets my ears ringing, followed by a gut punch that chases the air from my lungs. And as I double over, straining against the rope that binds my arms to the back of my chair, another searing line of pain opens across my shoulder.
