A Thousand Cuts (Underworld Kings)

The pressure at my neck reached a crescendo and I gritted my teeth against the pain until he finally loosened his grip.

“Whoever it was killed every single guard,” Cristian said, voice losing its controlled structure now. I could hear the cracks in his façade. Fucking felt myself falling through them.

“Then, they killed Isabella,” he rasped, her name broken as it exited his mouth. “Not before they brutally raped her.”

My breath caught, even though it didn’t come as a complete surprise. She was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the underworld. Whoever killed her did it to send some kind of message, to attempt to destroy the Catalano family. Men looking to destroy women always went to rape. They wanted to tear us apart from the inside out. Ruin our lives even if we survived.

“Lorenzo was hiding in a cabinet. Saw the whole thing,” Cristian said, moving his hand back down my spine to grip my hip.

I blinked. That was a piece of information that gave an explanation for how Lorenzo turned into what he was. Not an excuse. There was no excuse for that, but that was his villain origin story. Watching his sister raped and murdered.

That would do it.

And that was also why Sofia had been so furious with her son. Why Vincentius couldn’t face him.

“Lorenzo let that chase him through life,” Cristian said through gritted teeth. “He let it define him in all the wrong ways. Let it turn him into a coward.” He sucked in a breath. I could feel his frustration, and also, his love for Lorenzo.

That was why he didn’t kill him. Because he cared for him. Still. Somewhere deep down. In that part of him that was still human. He couldn’t kill Isabella’s brother.

“I let it turn me into something else entirely,” he finished quietly.

My heart was a roar in my ears as this all settled. I moved my hand up to trail Cristian’s jaw, his profile barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was rough underneath my fingers, his body still underneath me.

“Why the tattoo?” I asked, prepared to push the limits so I could finally get some answers. So I could get more pieces to the puzzle that was this man.

Cristian sighed, long and hard. I heard every fucking year of his life in that sound.

“I don’t believe in god,” he said. “The one unforgivable sin in this family full of Catholics.” His fingers ghosted over my hips. The touch gentle. Barely there. “But I believed Isabella was an angel.” He laughed, the sound humorless and unsettling. “Surrounded by devils. Tortured and killed. I wear her death on my back.”

His fingers bit into my hip, pressing into the bone.

I struggled under the weight of everything Cristian was giving me. I struggled to fit it into the narrative I had for him. How could I convince myself he was a monster when he was showing me his humanity?

Cristian was not content marinating in the silence that came after his words. He made this known by lifting me off his chest, getting out of bed and switching on the lamp.

“Come with me,” Cristian said, extending his hand.

I blinked against the light, it was harsh and it took my eyes a second to adjust. My eyes found focus on the ridges of his naked body, his abs carved out of fucking marble, dark hair snaking downward to his cock.

Without hesitation, I took his hand, willing to let him lead me anywhere.

Even to the depths of fucking hell.

It turned out we were going to the depths of hell.

Inside this house, at least.

I’d slipped on a silk robe to cover my nakedness, my feet were bare. Cristian had pulled on a pair of pajama pants, something that shouldn’t look as sexy as they did, low slung on his hips. We went down into the basement, but instead of turning left toward the gym we went right. There was a bathroom there, a shower, I thought I’d explored it all. A wine cellar further in. The walls were stone, smelling of damp. I’d explored all of this the day I took the documents out of Cristian’s office. Despite it being opulent and impressive, I didn’t think there was anything sinister down here.

Not until Cristian walked right to the corner of the room and pulled at a sconce on the wall. Just like that a door opened up. A secret fucking door in the stone wall.

I didn’t say anything to Cristian, just raised my brow. His expression didn’t change, it was grave, guarded.

My heart pounded as I walked through the narrow and dimly lit corridor, the ground cold and hard beneath my bare feet. Cristian didn’t tell me where we were going, and I didn’t ask.

The air seemed to get thicker as we walked. A coppery smell mixing with stone and Cristian’s scent.