Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"You really think Scar is all that stands between you and freedom? You have no car. The only exit from the property is guarded, and there is a guard on each door of the house itself. You no longer go anywhere without my permission, Cara mia." His voice dropped low, dancing over my skin like a caress.

"You can't do this!" I yelled, tears welling in my eyes. I'd expected Matteo to break my heart, but I never would have thought he'd do it like this.

Never like this.

"Ah, my love, I believe it is already done." Matteo turned and strode for his office, leaving me floundering in the middle of the foyer with an audience.

"Ms. Torres?" Donatello asked, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Do you have any specific requests for where you want things in the kitchen? I'll see to that personally. Normally the kitchen is my domain, but I very much look forward to having company."

I shook my head, feeling the first tear fall as he patted me on the head and stepped away. I turned, eyes connecting with Scar's where he stood at the door.

"You knew," I whispered, betrayal making my heart clench. I meant it when I said I'd miss the sullen man who had come to mean something to me.

And he'd brought me to a prison.

His face contorted briefly, as though the sight of my tears bothered him.

But it didn't.

None of them gave the first shit about me.

"He'll keep you safe," he whispered, and each word was like a blow to my gut.

"Ivory," a vaguely familiar voice whispered next to me, and I turned my head to look up into Lino's familiar brown eyes.

"Lino?" I asked stupidly, wincing when he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's sit you down."

He guided me to the living room, settling me on the couch next to him. Donatello delivered a glass of wine a moment later, giving me a sad smile and eying me warily.

"How are you?" I asked Lino after chugging the contents of my glass. Donatello took it, refilling it in front of me and handing it back.

"Better than you at the moment, I expect." The sheepish smile he turned my way was a welcome sight, and I even returned it.

"Samara?"

He winced. "Going through a rough divorce."

I nodded. It had been years since I'd seen her, but the man she'd gotten herself hitched to had never been a good man. "I'm surprised it took so long."

"You know her, she's stubborn." I nodded. "Like you," he added.

I glared at him. "I just want to go home."

"You are home," he said, tucking me into his chest when fresh tears welled in my eyes.

???

Lino had long since gone back to Matteo's office, doing whatever it was the two of them called work where Matteo's employees were completely content to watch me cry over being trapped in his house. Staff moved around me, unpacking my things without regard for what I might want. They didn't even ask me where I wanted everything to go—the only person who had bothered with that being Donatello.

I suspected they knew I'd say to keep everything in boxes.

Locking myself in the bathroom, I thought over my options.

I only had two.

Let it happen.