All this time she thought Lucian was paranoid for wanting to keep her under lock and key. But now, maybe he should have.
“Look at me.” A rough hand grabbed her chin forcing her eyes to meet the ones belonging to this voice.
She didn’t recognize the man. He was a tall brute with graying hair and pale skin. Behind him stood another man, this one younger, maybe her age, with chestnut hair and toned muscles peaking from beneath a white undershirt that was spotted with blo
od.
Adelina immediately began to assess herself. Her hands raked down her body looking for cuts.
“It’s not yours.” The young one told her seeing the panic on her face. He tapped the bloody bat he was holding again the concrete floor.
“Wh-whos?” she choked out.
“The Italians following you.”
A wave of grief hit her.
Her enforcers.
They were put in the middle of this because of her.
“Girl,” the older one grabbed her face again. “You haven’t answered me.”
Adelina closed her eyes searching back, what was the question?
“Why did you do it?” he supplied for her.
Her mind danced with what he wanted to hear.
Why was she born into this famiglia? Why was she ever with Theo? Why was his son dead because of her?
Why did she lie?
That was what he really wanted to know. Why did she tell this lie that had caused a war between these families? A lie that had now killed countless men.
This war was her fault. This blood was on her hands. And now, she was going to pay for it.
“Tell me!” he shouted, this time kicking her in the abdomen.
She curled onto her side, protecting her sore abdomen. “I didn’t.” She responded. As if it was that simple.
But to Adelina, it was.
She never told a single person who beat her.
Who had kicked her repeatedly.
Told her she was worthless.
Cut her skin with a pocket knife.
Massimo told them.
???
The physical pain was nothing.
It was probably even deserved.