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My phone buzzes in my pocket, taking my mind off the small basement room we’ve found ourselves in.
I shiver when I look around, trying to hold back the bile in my throat at the sight of Arrow holding up his torture saws with glee.
Get a damn grip. You’re in the goddamn mafia. Feeling faint at the sight of blood and guts. It’s ridiculous. It’s something I have to cope with. I just sail away in my mind until I’m no longer standing in the room.
“First, I’ll take the fingers that entered her. No one can have anything with her pussy juice on it.”
Jericho groans at his dramatics but nods in agreement. So do I. No one can ever touch her without us knowing about it and taking action. Grabbing my buzzing phone, I check my messages.
Chief
Still good on our end. She’ll be here whenever you three are done. We’ll keep this just between us.
She hasn’t spoken a word, either… The detective is sniffing around. I’d hurry…
Me
Thanks, Chief. We owe you. We’ll be there to sign her out shortly.
The more secretive this is, the better off it will be. We’re moving forward with our long-awaited plans a few days prematurely. All for her. Our girl.
Turning back to the other two, I click my metal rings together, instantly gaining their attention. Shoving my phone into my pocket, I sign, ‘Chief texted.’
Police Chief Anderson has always been on the mafia side of things. Considering he’s a part of the Viotto Crime Family, it should come as no surprise. His alliance with us, though, would drive Gabriel cuckoo. He hasn’t a clue, which works in our favor. Anything we need, the chief is there to aid us on the sly.
“How is she?” Jericho asks, rolling up his sleeves and exposing his tattooed forearms.
I put my phone into my pocket. ‘They say she’s fine, not talking still, and she’ll be there… But that douchebag detective is sniffing around,’ I sign. ‘And it’s on the down low.’
Jericho’s grin grows in a Grinch-like smile. I swear if he weren’t my brother by bond, I’d run in the opposite direction. As it stands, he doesn’t scare me. Only his plans do. They fucking terrify every molecule in my body. But that’s what we’re supposed to do. Go against the status quo. Rise up and take over what rightfully belongs to us, reclaiming it from the tyrant king who only cares about himself.
That’s our job.
And now, we’re enacting it by taking Journey earlier than planned. To keep her safe and with us at all times.
“Did you really think she’d squeal?” Arrow asks, peeking over his shoulder and rummaging through the sterilized toolbox behind the chair. “I didn’t. My little Kitten would never tell them anything.” He grunts, rustling through the box, only stopping when he finds the perfect tool.
‘She never has before,’ I sign, raising a brow when Leighton moans, coming out of the drug that knocked him out.
“Wakey, wakey, Leighton LeMaster,” Jericho hums, slapping his cheeks repeatedly. “Finally.” He grins, stepping back with glee when Leighton’s beady eyes pop open. He looks around with heaving breaths, taking in the small room.
“What the fuck?” he slurs, pulling at the restraints that hold him to a chair that is bolted to the floor. “What the hell?” The sound of the metal cuffs clanking ricochets off the walls, just barely quieter than his incessant wailing.
Poor fucker. I can tell by the drop of his face, he’s about to shit his pants and beg us for a second chance. Not likely.
“We have a code, Leighton,” Jericho states, placing his hands behind his back. “A moral code within the family.” Leighton stiffens when Jericho leisurely stops in front of him, leaning down to bring himself to eye level. “You’re a part of the family, are you not?” He raises a brow when Leighton pales. “The Viotto Family takes their oaths and promises very seriously.”
Convenient, I want to say. Our promise to keep our dicks in our pants to focus on our future was obliterated at that party. Not that I’m complaining. The moment I entered my girl, I knew it was written in the stars. I wanted to keep her at my side. But I knew the consequences of Jericho’s father finding out we didn’t stay true to the rules—severe punishment.
“A code? Really? This is what we’re going with?” Leighton slurs again, darting his eyes all around the room, taking in the exposed brick and weapons hanging from hooks. “What is going on? Where the fuck am I?”
“What’s going on is you put your hands on and in someone that doesn’t belong to you. She never has.”
“She’s too fucking good for you,” Leighton hisses, spitting in Jericho’s face. “She should have been mine.”
“So disrespectful for a boy tied to a chair.” Jericho stands tall again, swiping the spit from his face and flicking it to the ground with disgust. “You’ve always walked the line, Leighton. Skated on thin ice. You swore my father wouldn’t do anything to you because your daddy gets you out of every little indiscretion you get into. But you’re in my house now.” Jericho grins, opening his arms wide.
“What? No! You can’t…” Leighton screams when Arrow pops up in front of his face, bringing his skull mask down and hiding his grin.
