Twisted Bonds (The Camorra Chronicles 4)

He sighed, running a hand through his usual impeccably styled dark hair. “The girl’s not being tortured.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, trying to sidestep Savio. He mirrored my move.

“I can’t let you go down there. Orders from Nino.”

Angry, I quickly ducked past Savio. His arm came around my waist and he lifted me off the ground. Tension shot through me and I sucked in a startled breath. Savio carried me a few steps then set me down and peered into my eyes. “Come on, no panic attack, all right? I touched your waist. No danger.”

I swallowed.

“Hit me again, if that helps.”

“What?” I asked, confused, and my panic subsided.

Savio gave me the cocky grin. “I know you enjoyed hitting me.”

I knew what he was trying, and under different circumstances I might have laughed.

“Let me pass,” I said.

“No,” he said. “If you try again, I’ll hold you.”

“I don’t care.” Once again I tried to walk past Savio and this time he grabbed my shoulders and pressed me against the wall, holding me fast. I squirmed, my body tightening, but he didn’t release me.

“Kiara, I won’t let you go down there. I gave Nino my word. Give up. I don’t want to have to restrain you.”

I shivered at his proximity.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

I looked up into his face, into brown eyes that had held wariness in the beginning but were softer now. I gave a sharp nod and began to relax in his hold.

He let go of me and stepped back, then ran a hand through his hair again. He looked at me. “I really wish I could have been there when Nino and Remo dismembered him.”

I knew who he meant and I was surprised by his admission. Savio and I had gotten off on the wrong foot, and I often still had the impression that he resented the new restrictions my presence had brought.

He leaned one shoulder against the wall beside the basement door. “Remo would never hurt an innocent woman like your uncle hurt you.”

There wasn’t the hint of doubt in his voice.

“How can you be sure?”

“I know Remo,” Savio said simply, for a moment again dropping his arrogant smirk.

Like Nino, he had unfailing trust in Remo. I huffed, wishing I could share their convictions. “I want to go into the kitchen, if that’s still allowed?”

Savio stepped back after a moment of hesitation. I walked past him toward the kitchen. He followed me like an annoying shadow.

I whirled on him. “Am I a captive in this house now too?”

Savio raised his palms. “This is Remo’s game, not mine. Talk to him, if you don’t like what’s going on.” He smiled in a way that suggested I wouldn’t. Maybe the arrogant smirk was his protection. They all wore different masks, Nino his lack of emotions. Remo his anger, and Savio his arrogance. I wasn’t quite sure about Adamo’s mask yet, but he was wearing one too, I was sure of it.

I turned on my heel and continued into the kitchen, wondering why these twisted Falcone men wormed their way into my heart a bit more every day.

After a quick breakfast, I moved into the library, pointedly ignoring Savio who leaned beside the basement door, typing on his phone. I wouldn’t spend all day in the bedroom while Remo played captor, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Serafina.

I was lounging on the couch when Nino came in. The moment I saw the haunted look in his eyes I knew something had gone horribly wrong. Dropping my book, I pushed to my feet and hurried over to him, trying to suppress my rising worry.

“Are you okay?”

Nino cupped my face and kissed me fiercely, catching me by surprise. My body sprang to life, answering to the need in his kiss until it became more, heated, too much. I tore away from him, shaking my head, even as my body throbbed with desire. “Tell me what happened.”

Nino’s gaze dropped to his forearm where his fingers traced the scars. He frowned, pain and sadness flashing in his eyes before emotionless calm wiped them away. “Remo recorded a live video for Cavallaro and Serafina’s family, but her choice wasn’t the one Remo had anticipated.” There was no emotion in his voice, only that terrifying calm.

I backed away. “Don’t tell me you gave Serafina that choice?”

My insides convulsed, twisting tighter and tighter. Nino continued to regard me with that quiet scrutiny. “Remo is playing mind games, but Serafina is strong-willed. She chose pain, forced his hand in front of Cavallaro.” His gaze flickered to the scars on his wrist. “She chose her wrist for the cut …she …”

“Remo cut her?” I took another step back then turned around. “I’m sick of it. I’ll have a word with him. Someone has to.”

I rushed toward the door to confront Remo. Nino slung his arm around my waist from behind and held me tight. First Savio, now him. Anger and frustration flooded me, and a worse feeling of helplessness. “Let me go.”