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He covered me with the blanket. Then leaned down again.
“Don’t mistake caring for your basic needs for anything else. You’re my captive. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ve put up with your antics and backtalk thus far. But I have no problem chaining you to the bed and gagging you again.”
He skimmed his thumb over my jaw, then over my lips, and let his eyes roam over my body. “You should fear me instead of constantly testing me, little one. Because if I want to, I can become your worst nightmare.”
His words left me unsure and shaking.
“Now close your eyes and go to sleep.”
As if I could sleep. But for once, I followed his order.
I closed my eyes and listened to him roaming around before the door to the bedroom fell into place with a silent click.
And I was alone.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Istopped in the doorway to our command center, taking in the sight of my brothers bickering like an old married couple.
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Alessandro paced the length of the room, his hands balled into fists.
They hadn’t noticed my presence yet, and I took a silent step back into the dark corridor and pressed my back against the wall. This way, I could see without being seen.
Because whatever they were talking about—I wanted to hear.
“How the hell did they get past our security? This is unacceptable!” Alessandro said.
Cristo’s chair squeaked. He was probably leaning back, propping his boots up on the desk—a move so typical-Cristo, I could still—more than a decade later—easily pull up the picture. “Calm down. Getting your panties in a twist isn’t going to help anything,” he said.
I inched closer to the door—until I could see both my brothers.
They were both talking in English—one line of defense we’d used growing up to not be overheard and understood by just anyone—at least not instantly.
Alessandro whipped around, eyes blazing. “Don’t tell me to calm down! If I wanted to hear your opinion, I’d tell you.”
Cristo barked out a laugh. “Still sore that Pap left everything to Gabe, huh? Get over it already.”
Alessandro surged forward, his hands reaching for Cristo’s throat. Cristo moved faster, dropped down on the floor, performed an expertly executed foot sweep, then tackled Alessandro and pinned him to the floor, forearm pressed against his windpipe.
“Enough!” I snapped, my fists clenched when I entered the room.
They crawled apart, identical looks of anger and guilt on their faces. After all these years, they still couldn’t get their act together. I stifled a laugh, and a spike of longing tightened my chest.
I’d missed them.
“How did they get in? And what have you done to fix it?”
“Relax, Gabe.” Cristo tried to soothe my anger, keeping one eye on Alessandro. “We’re working on it.”
“Working on it isn’t good enough! They targeted me, got into my room. This can’t happen again.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t waltz in here like a bull in a china shop,” Alessandro retorted, his eyes narrowing. “You never know who you might piss off by doing that.”
“Is that a threat?” I demanded, stepping closer to him, my voice low and dangerous. The tension between me and Alessandro was palpable—I loved him; we’d stuck together growing up since he’d been much closer to me in age than Cristo. But right this moment, trust was another matter entirely.
“Of course not,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just a friendly observation.”
