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I’m no match for the cartel.
Who is?
If my family would’ve got to me first, I may have survived.
But the cartel? If there’s anyone worse out there than the Amatos, it’s them. And I’m in no position to try to go against them alone—even with Remi, we’ll be outnumbered every damn time.
I need Dante to find us. He’s my only hope for survival. My only chance to break free from the cartel and regain the life I started. I feel in my bones that if anyone can do it, it’s him. And I’m sure he knows by now…and I can only imagine the complete and total rage-induced terror he’s in.
I check on Remi again, and a slight twinge of comfort consoles me as I see the steady rise and fall of her chest.
She’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.
There’s nothing in this storage space aside from the lights and the two of us. A door stands on the north side, tucked in the corner that butts up against the east side of the unit. The cold cement underneath my ass causes me a slight ache, but nowhere near as bad as my face. My stomach and lungs each have throbbing sensations from earlier, and if my hands were untied and I could lift my shirt, I’m sure I’d see a pretty gnarly bruise.
I inch a bit closer to Remi, trying to scoot toward her with bound ankles and wrists less than gracefully.
I search the room with my eyes since I can’t move but there’s nothing. I’m not sure why I think if I keep looking, a knife or gun or magical fucking sword will pop out of the ceiling and into my hands.
Nothing. No weapons. The closest thing is the electrical cord with the light bulb dangling from it, or the light bulb itself, if I could manage to break it and use it against one of the men.
But then what? A dozen more will come to stand in his place.
The squeak of the door pulls me from all thoughts of survival and leaves nothing but terror in the forefront of my mind. I place my elbow on the ground and scoot closer to Remi.
In walks Enzo.
Traitor.
My mind screams obscenities as my skin grows clammy. I do my best to screw on my best sneer and straighten my spine as much as possible to act unaffected. I don’t know if I’m doing a piss-poor job or if Enzo is just that cocky.
He walks over in jeans and a T-shirt, a stark contrast to the beautiful, polished look he was sporting at family dinner. The suit he had on made him look like a young Marlon Brando, but now he just looks like another scrub off the street on the wrong side of the city.
“Didn’t anybody ever teach you manners? You should say hello when someone walks into a room, Ms. Amato.” Enzo grins like the Cheshire cat and waltzes over to me.
“Didn’t anybody ever teach you that being a lying, traitorous, sociopathic bastard wasn’t in your job description?” I tilt my head and give him a look that sayscome at me.
I’m doing my best to match his demeanor, to show him that I refuse to go down without a fucking fight.
The smile falls from Enzo’s face, and he comes within only inches of mine before bending down to eye level with me.
“Being a worthless cunt will only get you offed sooner,” he seethes.
I shake my head, wishing I didn’t have these zip ties on my wrists. He smells of cigarettes and liquor, and it doesn’t surprise me he’s been drinking. He’s probably had to self-medicate in some way in order to keep up his double life.
“I knew the moment I met you that you weren’t somebody anyone should trust. I once read a study about liars. Dishonest, disloyal, filthy fucking fools who thought they could one-up the people they told their lies to,” I tell him. “People used to think you could tell by eye movement, but that’s wrong. You have a different tell—”
“Save it, bitch.” Enzo runs his tongue across his lips. “Do you think it was a coincidence that I let you work at Evelina’s store? Kept it from the DeSantis crew because I needed to keep you close in case your father went rogue. In case he tried to turn on me and go to Romeo DeSantis and let my secret out and tell him I was working for both families.” He shakes his head as he lets out a slow laugh. “Everything builds on something else, Giana. You need to realize that. There’s a greater reason for everything that’s happened. Thatwillhappen.”
Enzo stands and looks down at me, those eyes boring into me as I try to wrap my mind around what any of it means—if it means anything at all. Maybe he’s just a shitty person who went against his family, and he’s trying to make it out to be something it isn’t.
“Anyway, any second now, you’ll be dead, and I’ll continue on my mission for your father and for Roberto Martínez, and the DeSantis fuckers will be none the wiser.” He holds his hands up in an “oh well” movement.
“There.” I smile, and a shooting pain runs through my cheek and up to my temple.
He looks like a confused idiot as he widens his eyes, so I elaborate.
“It’s now believed that liars use hand movements and gestures after they speak as opposed to while speaking. Your feeble little brains are so intent on your lies and making sure people don’t pick up on your deceit…so your gestures come late.” I sigh. “You did it at Mr. and Mrs. DeSantis’s house when I met you. And I knew then something was up with you. You wanna know what I can’t figure out, though? I know you from somewhere. And I can’t figure out where. Care to share?”
