Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

I almost agreed because the idea of shoving my knife over and over into the cold fish was too fucking enticing. Fighting Dante would have been a highlight. Since cutting Luca into bite-sized pieces was out of the question for now, Dante was the opponent I longed for. There was only one thing I wanted more than killing Dante: having Serafina in every way possible and destroy the Outfit through her.

“We will have to postpone our duel to a later point, Dante. For now, I have demands I want you to fulfill if you want to have your niece returned to her family in one piece.”

“I won’t negotiate with you, Remo. You won’t get an inch of my territory. Now say what you really want. We both know what it is.”

I doubted he knew what I really wanted. Maybe only Nino did. “And what do I want?”

“You want my Consigliere. Fabiano is your Enforcer and I assume the deal you struck with Vitiello entailed your promise to deliver Scuderi so you can all have him dismembered together.”

“I doubt Luca will be part of Scuderi’s disembodiment. He’d rather chop you into pieces, Dante.”

“Vitiello isn’t the ally you think he is. His Famiglia is prone to betrayal. It’s unwise of you to make me your enemy.”

“Dante, we’ve been enemies from the moment I claimed power. And the moment your fucking soldiers breached my territory, it got personal. I don’t need Luca as an ally as long as I know his hatred for you trumps his hatred for me.”

“One day his and your rashness will be your downfall.”

“Very likely,” I growled. “But until that happens, your conscience will have to live with Serafina’s gradual downfall.”

I hung up. With every day that Serafina was in my hands, my position got stronger.

CHAPTER 12

SERAFINA

The next few days after my attempt at running away, I fell into a strange routine. Remo picked me up for a run in the morning. Sometimes I wondered if he wanted me to risk escaping again because the chase gave him a thrill, but I didn’t waste my energy on it. Remo was too strong and fast. I had to beat him with wit. Unfortunately, he was as intelligent as he was cruel. He could twist my words faster than I thought possible, and I occasionally caught myself enjoying our strange debates.

I didn’t have to hold back when I was around Remo. I didn’t try to present my best side to him like I had done with Danilo because I didn’t care about his approval. I was myself, unfiltered, careless, and strangely enough Remo seemed to get a sick kick out of it. The Capo was a mystery to me. He hadn’t tried to torture me or force himself on me like I’d expected, and I couldn’t help but be wary because Remo’s motives were cruel.

“Once I set you free, you’ll return to Danilo like a well-trained carrier pigeon.” Remo said as we jogged along the canyon trail one day.

“Your bird analogies are starting to get old,” I muttered. I was glad Remo didn’t know Dad called me dove. He’d only use it to his advantage.

“But they are so very fitting, Angel.”

I slanted a look at him. He had a strange smile on his face. His shirt clung to his body with sweat and showed the outline of his muscles and his gun holsters. “What are you in your ornithology scheme? The vulture waiting for the poor pigeon to drop out of the sky so you can tear into her?”

Remo let out a deep chuckle, which sent a shocking shiver down my spine. I sped up, trying to force my body into submission. “I don’t think you’ll ever fall from the sky. I’ll have to snatch you out of the air like an eagle.”

I snorted, not caring if it was an undignified sound. “You are insane.”

He fell silent, easily following my faster pace. Remo was fit to the point of admiration, I had to give him that.

After we returned to the car, we shared a bottle of water. “Why are you doing this?”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Giving you water?”

“Treating me decently.”

He smiled darkly. “Why do you sound almost disappointed?”

Part of me was because I knew the man in front of me was ruthless and cruel to the very core. More monster than man. The weaker part was relieved and didn’t want to question his motives. “When will the torture begin?”

Remo propped his arm up against the roof of the car and stared down at me. “Who says the torture hasn’t already begun? Just because I’m not torturing you doesn’t mean I’m not torturing others through you.”

I flinched. My family. They were suffering because they imagined the horrors I was going through, horrors that weren’t taking place—yet.

“You are a monster,” I bit out.

Remo leaned even closer, radiating heat and power, the scent of fresh sweat and his own forbidden aroma wrapping around me. I returned his gaze. Dark eyes. Monster eyes, but God help me, they always kept me frozen with their intensity.