Savage Queen (The Dark Elite 3)

No.

I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be. But ignoring the truth won’t change it, and the only way we’re all going to get out of this alive is if we arm ourselves with as much knowledge as possible about our new enemy.

Drawing back, I nod. “Yes.”

2

Zaid

We’ve been working on Leland for ten hours now, and even though he’s slowly breaking, I can sense Ciro growing impatient with the fucker. Knowing what Camilla’s capable of gives us all a sense of urgency. And we also know that if Leland is gone for too long without communicating with her, she’ll grow suspicious. Which means we don’t have a lot of time.

It also means we need to be careful not to fuck him up too obviously. Well, not any more than Ciro already has anyway.

My gaze jerks up at the sound of the door opening behind me, followed by Grace and Hale. He leads her in with a brush of his hand against her lower back, and the smallest twinge of jealousy flares inside of me. I push it aside.

I’m actually thankful to see Grace, if thankfulness is even an emotion you can feel in a torture chamber.

When she went upstairs earlier, we all decided to give her a bit of time to work through shit. Didn’t mean I didn’t want to charge up there and demand to know if she was okay, promise to take care of her, and threaten to kill anyone who hurt her—but I knew that wasn’t what she needed. She needed time, and we gave it to her. As much as we could, at least, before none of us could stand it anymore. Hale left the room a little while ago to go check on her.

She looks a little rough around the edges, just like the rest of us, but she walks into the room with a determined expression on her face, and I know she’s worked hard to pull herself together, to function through the shock and pain.

She’s carrying her head high like the badass bitch she is.

“How long have you been working with Camilla?” Ciro asks, taking a step away from Leland.

Tied to the chair, the middle-aged man sucks in a breath, breathing hard. “A couple years,” he says, swallowing. “She had shit on me that could’ve put me in jail for life. Blackmail. She threatened my family. I was only trying to protect my family, she was going to kill them—”

Hale growls, stalking over to Leland. He doesn’t even have to raise a hand and the guy flinches.

I always knew Leland was a fucking pussy.

“You cowardly son of a bitch.” Hale’s lip curls. “You thought that by bending to her will, you wouldn’t end up hurting people? You thought she was only going to ask a small task of you? One little thing and then it would be over, no fucking harm done? You thought you were keeping your family safe?”

We all take a personal offense to that last lame-ass excuse. Each and every one of us.

It would’ve been like a slap in the face for Damian to hear one of his highest-ranked captains say those words.

Because when you join the Novak syndicate, we become your family. Your own family becomes our family, and our full protection is extended to them.

In the mafia, we value those connections. We take care of our women. Take care of our kids. Leland knows that as well as anyone. If he hadn’t been such a slimy little cocksucker, if he’d been loyal to the organization he swore his life to, his family actually would have been safer. We would’ve done everything in our power to protect them from Camilla’s wrath.

Now? He’s basically hung them out to dry. Painted a target on their backs that she’ll be happy to aim for.

“You had my father’s trust.” Hale’s voice is low, but I can feel his anger rising. “Of all the things you could’ve chosen to do when Camilla threatened you, you chose the one that would bring the most damage to everything and everyone you should’ve cared about. You’re exactly what my father despised.”

Leland flinches at the verbal blow as if it were an actual punch. Honestly, I don’t know if it’s better or worse that Hale’s words obviously hit a sore spot. In some ways, it just makes his actions worse. Even though he was a traitor in the end, Leland still looked up to Hale’s father. Respected him. Loved him.

And yet, he chose to betray him.

“The choices you have made have put your family in more danger,” Hale continues. “The choices you have made put everyone in our syndicate in more danger. I don’t know what the fuck you told yourself so you could sleep at night, but you may as well have pulled the trigger yourself.”

With that, Hale backs off and turns to pace the room, unable to say anything else to the traitor.

I watch Leland closely, observing the way his jaw twitches, his bloodshot eyes staring at the concrete wall behind me with an absent intensity. Ciro’s good. He’s well-versed enough in torture to have pushed Leland right to the edge of his breaking point—and the man’s guilt only pushes him further down that path.

But it’s a fine line we’re walking. In only a few minutes, if we don’t keep him from doing it, he’s going to collapse in on himself, his body and mind shutting down. He’ll go to a mental place far, far away from here.

We have to keep him with us. Keep him talking.