Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

The other guy had his back turned to me and was shaking the cage door, wanting out.

“No one’s going to open that door. If you want out of this cage, you’ll have to kill me.”

Big Guy turned, face swollen and bloody. He tried his best. Soon I had him in a choke hold, and then I smashed his face against the cage. Once. Twice, and then over and over again. I couldn’t fucking stop. I needed to crush something.

“Remo.”

Smash.

“Remo!”

Smash.

A hand gripped my shoulder and ripped me backward. I released the bloody pulp and stared at Nino. His face was splattered with small red dots. Blood.

I glanced down at myself then at the floor. It was silent in the arena and everyone was staring at me in open horror.

“I won,” I muttered.

Nino shook his head. “Come.”

I followed him out of the cage and toward the changing room. The crowd parted even wider. The stench of vomit hung heavy in the air. Griffin was pressing a fucking tissue over his mouth.

Inside the changing room, I stripped off my drenched fight shorts, leaving a red trail on the ground as I stepped inside the shower. The hot water remained red for a long while, and Nino watched me the entire time from his spot on the bench, his elbows propped up on his thighs.

“Like what you see?”

He didn’t say anything, and it was starting to piss me off.

Grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. “Say what you’ve got to say.”

Nino regarded me with a small frown. “Is this because of Serafina? Do I have to worry?”

My lips pulled wide. “I don’t have a heart that can be broken, Nino. Stop the fucking hovering.”

“She won’t come back to you, Remo. She’ll try to find her way back into the Outfit where she thinks she belongs. If you wait for her to come to you freely, you’ll be met with disappointment.”

I bent low, meeting his eyes. “I don’t care if she comes back or not. There are whores to fuck, Outfit bastards to kill, and the fucking Bratva to piss off.”

I got dressed in the pants Nino handed me. Then we left. Part of the crowd had already left, the others were whispering quietly. Nino led me toward the booth, but only Savio was there, and he regarded me like I had risen straight from Hell. “Where is everyone?”

“Well,” Savio muttered. “Kiara and Adamo are probably busy throwing up, and Fabiano and Leona went outside with them to keep watch.”

Nino’s frown deepened at the mentioning of Kiara. We headed outside and found them all in the parking lot beside our cars. Adamo sat on the hood of Nino’s car, smoking. Kiara was bent over behind the trunk, heaving, and Fabiano had his arm wrapped around Leona’s shoulder, who looked a little faint.

Nino went over to his wife and rubbed her back.

Fabiano shook his head. “What the hell, Remo?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve seen me do worse. We tortured together.” And after what he’d done to his father, he really had no business being shocked by me losing control.

Savio snorted. “We’ve all seen you torture, but you never lost control like that. Take a look at the video footage and if your expression doesn’t scare even you shitless then I don’t know what to say.” He went over to Adamo and took the cigarette from him, taking a deep pull.

“You don’t smoke,” Adamo grumbled.

“I need to get rid of the vomit taste in my mouth.”

“Don’t tell me you threw up as well,” I said.

Savio cocked his eyebrow. “No. But when people around me started ejecting their food, I could practically taste it in my mouth.”

I felt Fabiano’s eyes on me and met his gaze, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Adamo couldn’t meet my eyes, and I didn’t have the necessary patience tonight to deal with him. Maybe tomorrow. Nino finally managed to calm Kiara, who leaned into him, pale and sweaty. She locked eyes with me. It wasn’t disgust or fear I saw in her gaze but compassion and understanding, and it sent a new wave of rage through me.

“Keys,” I ordered, holding out my hands to Nino.

He shook his head. “You’re not driving anywhere right now.”

“Give me the fucking keys,” I growled.

“No.”

“I can drive you,” Adamo quipped.

I slanted a look at him. Of course he’d come with his new car, and of course he wasn’t sitting on its hood. Nino nodded, as if I needed his fucking permission to get into Adamo’s car.

“Then let’s go, kiddo,” I muttered.

Adamo hopped off Nino’s car, threw away his stub, and got into his Mustang. The moment I sank down into the passenger seat and closed the door, Adamo shot out of the parking lot. “Where do you want to go?”

I rubbed my temple. “I want to kill and maim but now that I have you to keep an eye on, that won’t fucking happen.”