Ryder's Claim (Mafia Heirs 2)

"You can stay where you are," he barks at me. "I don't really have anything to say to you."

"Then why are you here?" I ask.

"To decide how to kill you," he says impassively, making my blood run cold. "Livia has suggested a public affair, but it might be easier to send a bullet through your head here and now."

I take a step back, but he doesn't reach for his gun, just glares at me darkly.

"Well, girl?" he finally demands. "Aren't you going to defend yourself?"

I don't know what to say. I've battled with my conscience for years and a part of me thinks I deserve to die. So, I stay silent and stare at the floor.

"You're worthless to the famiglia now," Bruno grunts. "And I'm not particularly keen on keeping a prisoner down here. So why don't you answer my question? Why shouldn't I kill you here and now?"

"I..." I'm rendered speechless as I hear someone else descending the stairs. It's not the click-clack of Livia's heels, either, it's the heavy thud of boots. And a moment later, Ryder appears in the hallway and all my emotions screech to a grinding halt when I see him. He looks tired, worn out, and I feel deeply guilty for all the hurt I've caused him.

"You're not going to kill her," Ryder hisses at his father without so much as throwing a glance my way. "She's a prisoner now, and that makes her my property."

"I suppose you're right," Bruno mutters. "I certainly have no use for her, but maybe you can find one."

Ryder nods and his father shrugs, leaving us alone in the dungeons. Ryder still won't look at me, but he does address the guards, saying, "Leave us."

"But, signore Bernardi, we're under instructions to –"

"I don't give a shit," Ryder hisses. "I want to be alone with the girl. Get the fuck out."

The two guards pale and disappear down the hallway. I can barely breathe, my heart hammering in my chest and threatening to rip right through my ribcage.

"Now," Ryder says, “it's time for me to use my property. After all, that's all you are now. No use holding back anymore."

My blood runs cold and I taste something sour in my mouth. "Ryder, please, I –"

"Shut the fuck up, Nicoletta," he hisses, then groans, rubbing his temples. "Let's start with the first goddamn question. What the fuck is your name?"

22

Ryder

"Aurora." The word leaves her lips in a soft whisper, like a secret, one she's almost managed to forget. "My real name is Aurora."

"Pretty," I spit out, finally looking into her eyes. "I'm not going to call you by your name, though. I know how much you liked being called a princess. Well, congratulations, because you've been promoted to principessa bugiarda."

Pursing her lips together, she glares at me. "If it makes you feel better to call me a liar, so be it. What else do you want?"

"What you stole from me," I growl. "Every-fucking-thing."

Pulling a set of keys from my pocket, I unlock the door of her cell. Nicoletta – Aurora – looks terrified at the sight of me, and she breathes, "Please, don't hurt me."

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think, liar?" I wrap a fist in her hair. "It'll only hurt more if you try to resist. Now come with me."

I half-drag, half-walk her out of the room and she whimpers with every step I make her take until we've reached the end of the hallway. I show her into a room that knocks the breath right out of her, and I laugh, pleased with what I've done.

"Are you scared yet, principessa?" I mutter in her ear. "This is where we torture our prisoners."

She takes in the room with all its torture devices with eyes wide open. I can tell how scared she is, the fear making her smell even headier.

"We have another room, too," I say next. "You want to see that?"

She shakes her head no, but I ignore it, dragging her to the next room and pushing her inside. She shrieks as I lock the door and turn on a light. Aurora takes in the room with a trembling expression. "What is this place?"

"A place for liars," I grit out. "A place to teach bad girls a lesson."

Her eyes are still fearfully devouring the sights of the room. The sex furniture, cages, whips, canes and so much more lining the walls. This isn't a room meant for pleasure, it's a room meant for pain.

"I'm sure once I use the crop on you, you'll open up soon enough," I smirk at her.

"What do you want me to say?" She wrestles free of my hold and crosses her arms defensively. "I didn't do those things – my papa did."

"But you went along with it."

"What was I supposed to do? I was just a kid."