Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
He stands, and they both turn their full attention to me. Something gives and a tidal wave of emotion overwhelms me. A keening like that of an animal comes from deep inside my chest, and I think I’m going to choke on it. This thing that won’t let me breathe, that’s been inside me so long it’s a part of me. It’s all of it. Everything that’s happened. Tonight. The nights before. My father’s death. The funeral. That book and what it accuses my brother of. Amadeo and Bastian.
The nightmares of another basement. Another violent night.
A jacket is draped over me, and I smell a familiar aftershave. It’s warm. He just took it off. A hand closes on the back of my head, cupping it tenderly. But it’s that gentle touch that brings out the animal inside me. It’s then I find my voice and scream and scream. I spin as I scream bloody murder grabbing hold of a shard of glass because I will dig it into his eye even if it cuts me through. Even if they kill me for it. But I won’t let them touch me. I won’t let any of them touch me.
“Fuck!” Glass crunches under Bastian’s shoes. He catches my arm and squeezes my wrist, forcing me to drop the glass to the floor. “You’re safe. Vittoria. Look at me.” I shove against him, and he releases my wrist. The jacket slips from me as I try to scramble away through this carpet of broken bottles.
“Vittoria. Look at me.” It’s Amadeo’s voice now. I’m backed into a corner, the wall cold against my bare skin. “Vittoria.”
I claw around me for a weapon. More glass. A gun. Anything. And when he puts his hands on me and gives me a shake, I attack, clawing at his face and arms and screaming like an animal until he slaps me, stunning me.
My head jerks to the side, and I’d fall over if he didn’t catch me. Pulling me to him, he presses my face into his chest. My cheek stings from where he hit me, but it has its desired effect. I’m not screaming. Clawing. Attacking like some beast.
“Shh. Quiet now. You’re safe.” I can’t tell if it’s Bastian or Amadeo’s voice. My arms are behind me, wrists held tight by one brother while the other cradles the back of my head and whispers that I’m safe, I’m all right. I’m safe.
But I’m not all right. I haven’t been all right for a very long time. And I’ve never been safe.
“We need to get her upstairs and out of here,” Bastian says. “Away from these men. This place.”
Amadeo straightens and lifts me up, cradling me against him. I wrap my arm around his neck and bury my face against him. I taste blood.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, princess.
I feel my resistance giving way. Hot tears stream down my face as I cry ugly and loud. The smell of the room, of basement and beer and whiskey and violence, is too much, and when that cry is over, I’m so exhausted. Empty. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I am so fucking tired, and this emotion has drained the last of my energy. I can’t fight anymore. I can’t.
Amadeo must feel me yield because he tucks me closer and tells me it’ll be all right. He looks down at me, and I meet his eyes for an instant before turning my face back into his chest and burying it there.
“Get them all in the back of the truck,” Bastian says. “You know where to take them. No one touches them without my order. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” a soldier answers.
Amadeo begins the climb up the stairs. I open my eyes briefly to see Bastian following, eyes locked on me, so I close mine again, breath heaving as years-old tears stream like never before.
2
AMADEO
“I’ll get the kit,” Bastian says as I carry Vittoria through the dark house, past the open door of her bedroom and to my own. Adrenaline sends blood pounding through me.
We knew something was wrong the minute we drove through the still-guarded gates of the Naples house. Bastian commented on how dark the house was as the thought formed in my own mind. I’d been thinking about Sonny’s strange mention of one of our houses being attacked. About rats. Was it his warning? Had he already ordered the attack while we were at the Ravello house talking? While he was visiting and making nice with mom? When we walked through the front doors, we saw right away that less soldiers were inside than should have been. The house was dark. Too dark. And the stink of cigarettes, aggression, and fear permeated from the basement.
But those soldiers down there, they were ours.
We were attacked from within, and Vittoria was their target. I failed to protect her as I promised I would.