Dominic (Benedetti Brothers 2)

Gia moved toward me and then stopped.

“Go lay down,” I told her.

She’d be out soon. The dosage was probably too high. She was a little thing. I’d guess maybe 115 pounds soaking wet.

“Please let me go,” she managed.

I took her by the arm and walked her to the bed, picked her up, and placed her on top of it.

She pulled her knees into her chest, and my eyes fell again on the scab that had formed on her hip. Something about that worried me. I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what I found once the wound fully healed.

I met her gaze again. Our eyes locked, hers searching, uncertain.

She reached for the blanket, pulling it toward her. Her fingertips touched mine when I took hold of it and dragged it away.

Warmth was a privilege earned, and she had in no way earned it.

She shivered. “Please. I’m so cold.”

I looked at her and shook my head.

“Don’t fight me, Gia,” I whispered. “You won’t win.”2GiaI drifted in and out of sleep. There were moments of lucidity, and it seemed I’d just be gone for a while, as if I’d stepped away from the conversation, then picked it up again like it hadn’t happened at all, like I hadn’t just nodded off. How long did this go on?

I recalled my last night with Victor. I’d sworn to myself that I would not be a victim. I wouldn’t allow him to make me one. The memory of it made me shudder.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Did they think I couldn’t hear them? Did they think I couldn’t hear the fucking fire crackling?

Mateo had fucked up. God, he’d fucked up so big, and he’d paid. He’d paid big. He was gone. And he’d saved me—he’d made sure I’d live.

They’d made me watch. Victor, fucking Victor, had made me watch. I glared at him sitting there now, all smug, in his perfect three-piece suit, adjusting his perfect cuffs, turning the gold links, that smirk on his face, the one I wanted to permanently wipe off. His hands were the bloodiest of all, even if he never raised a freaking finger to do the actual work of killing.

“Ready, boss,” one of his masked soldiers said. I never did see their faces.

A whimper escaped me. I didn’t want to make a sound. I didn’t want to scream. To give him the satisfaction. But I pulled as far back as I could even though the chains made it impossible to move more than a few inches.

Victor stood.

“Last chance, Gia.”

I glanced at the steaming branding iron—I wouldn’t let my gaze linger, wouldn’t let fear paralyze me. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. But the orange glow, the smell, the heat—it scared the fuck out of me.

I turned frantic eyes on Victor. Could I pass out first? Could I piss them off enough that they’d hit me? Knock me out before they did it?

“What do you say?” Victor asked, standing close enough now to lift my face to his.

“Last chance to fuck you?” I asked, a slight tremor to my voice as the man holding the iron came so close I could smell it. And I could imagine the scent of flesh burned away by it. My flesh.

I would be strong. For Mateo. He’d been strong right up until the end.

Victor squatted down beside me and wrapped a tendril of hair around his finger, tugging. “What do you say?” His tone teased. He loved this. The fucking bastard lived for this.

“What do I say?”

He waited.

I looked him straight in the face, knowing I sealed my own fate but drawing all of my courage anyway. I spat. I spat right on his smug killer’s face.

“I say, no, thanks. You’ll kill me either way.”

The back of his hand slammed across my face so hard, stars danced before my eyes, but it wasn’t hard enough to render me unconscious.

He stood. “Stupid, arrogant bitch.” He nodded to the man holding the iron, and two other sets of hands turned me onto my side.

White-hot pain burned through me, and I opened my mouth and let out a bloodcurdling scream. The sound of the iron sizzling, the scent of charring flesh, were too much to bear.

I never did pass out, not during, not after, not once until Victor slapped me again.

“I’ll see you on your knees, Gia. God help me.”

The mad grin on his face was the last thing I saw, his words a mystery as I processed pain like I’d never felt before, welcoming the blackness the back of Victor’s hand across my cheek finally, thankfully, delivered.

I’d been sure Victor would kill me. Why hadn’t he? Did I still have Angus Scava’s protection? Angus Scava was the boss of the Scava family. I’d been engaged to his son. I may not have been his first choice for a daughter-in-law, but he’d accepted me, been kind to me even, for his son.