Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles Book 2)
Twisted Emotions: Chapter 6

KIARA

“Bed her, bed her!” The chanting began before I’d managed to mentally prepare myself. Perhaps I was stupid for thinking I could prepare for it.

My husband’s brothers, Remo and Savio, shouted the loudest, but most of the other men were almost as loud. The youngest brother, Adamo, remained in his seat, lips pressed together in a firm line. He hadn’t talked to me or danced with me or anyone else.

“Bed her, bed her!” the cries grew louder.

I sought Nino’s gaze. He nodded at me, got up, and held out a hand. I took it because I could not refuse him with everyone watching us. Forcing down my fear, I stood and followed him past the rows of guests who had lined up to see us out. The men clapped Nino’s shoulders; the women caught my gaze with pity and sympathy in their eyes. Giulia was pressed up against her husband, worry filling her expression. I quickly looked away.

“On to unchartered grounds!”

“We want to see the sheets!”

There were more comments like that, and they turned my stomach into solid rock.

Nino’s face didn’t betray his reaction to the shouts. His fingers pressed against my wrist tightly, and I was glad because they grounded me, kept me from faltering, from drifting off to the past.

Remo and Savio were close by as we went down the long corridor—a corridor that held many childhood memories, few of them good and tonight worse memories would be added to the list.

We arrived in front of the dark wooden door to the master bedroom, dozens of men behind us.

“No fucking your virgin bride up against the wall, remember?” Remo said with a laugh.

I jerked, my pulse doubling. Nino’s fingers tightened against my wrist.

“Remo,” he growled in a voice that sent fear into every fiber of my being.

“Have fun!” Savio shouted with a grin.

The Falcones were going to feel cheated. A sacrificial virgin was to be given to the monsters in Las Vegas for a promise of peace. I was never given the chance to be a virgin. That choice had been taken from me. Painfully ripped from me.

Fear, acute and raw, clawed at my chest as my husband led me into our room for the night and closed the door to the grinning faces of his brothers. Nino released me, and I quickly created distance between us, moving toward the bed.

Six years had passed, but the memories still woke me at night. I was scared of being close to a man, to any man, especially this man – my husband.

Standing a few steps in front of the bed, my eyes swept over the white sheets—sheets my family expected to the see stained with my blood in the morning.

Blood that wouldn’t be there.

I crept closer to the bed. There had been blood the first time, the second time, and even the third time. Lots of blood, pain, terror, and begging. There had been no presentation of the sheets back then. Our maid, who had never come to my aid, cleaned them.

I wouldn’t beg tonight. It hadn’t stopped my abuser many years ago.

It wouldn’t stop my husband.

I knew the stories. I had seen him in the cage.

My only consolation was that I doubted he could break me more than I already had been all those years ago.

I couldn’t take my eyes off those perfect white sheets—as white as my dress. A sign of purity, but I wasn’t pure.

“They are your traditions, not ours,” Nino said calmly but loud enough to tear me from my thoughts.

I schooled my face into placidness. “Then why follow them?” I asked as I turned. My voice had betrayed me. Too hushed, laced with a terror that I hoped he mistook for virginal fear.

He wasn’t as close as I’d expected. He wasn’t even looking at me. Standing beside the desk, he read the note my aunt had written congratulating us on the nuptials. He put it back down then looked up at me. There was nothing on his face that gave me a sense of hope. No kindness, no pity. It was a blank canvas. Beautifully cold with empty gray eyes, an immaculate short beard, and combed back hair.

As he shook his head, he destroyed what little hope I’d had. “The Famiglia wants blood, they get it.”

He was right. It was what my family expected, what I was supposed to deliver, but they wouldn’t get blood. And my husband would realize his prize was faulty. The Camorra would cancel the truce. My husband would rebuke the marriage, and I’d be left to live as a pariah.

It would be my ruin. My family would shun me. Nobody would ever want to marry me after that, and an unmarried woman in our world was doomed.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, calmly, precisely. Finally he shrugged it off, revealing scars and tattoos—so many, so disturbing—and steely muscles. I turned away, my pulse galloping in my veins. Terror, similar to that which I’d felt many years ago, clawed at my insides. I needed to rein it in, figure a way out of this mess. I needed to save myself, not from him claiming my body but from me losing my honor.

I reached into my purse, which dangled over my forearm, and freed a pill from the packet. My throat was tight, and I wasn’t sure if I’d manage to swallow it without water, but walking into the bathroom seemed impossible in my current state. I wasn’t sure I would make it without breaking down.

With shaking fingers, I brought the white pill to my lips. A hand curled around my wrist, stopping me. My eyes flew up to stare into Nino’s narrowed eyes. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

“What is that?” he asked forcefully.

I didn’t say anything, too terrified for words. With his free hand, he reached into my purse and pulled out the packet. His eyes scanned the description. He threw it away before his gray eyes met mine, and he held out his hand. “Give me that pill.”

“Please,” I whispered.

Not a flicker of emotion on his beautiful, cold face. “Kiara, give me that pill.”

I dropped it into his palm, and he threw it away as well. I could have cried. How was I supposed to rein in my terror, keep the memories at bay without something to calm myself?

His thumb brushed my wrist, and he murmured, “I won’t have you drugged.” He released me. I stepped back and turned around to face the bed, sucking in a deep breath. He was watching me.

I reached behind me for the buttons on the back of my dress. I would be the one to open them. That would give me a sense of control, unlike last time when my clothes had been ripped from me against my will, my body too weak to fight against it.

I swallowed the bile. My fingers shook too much to close around the tiny buttons.

“Let me,” came the cool drawl from my husband who was close behind.

No! I wanted to scream, but I forced the sound down. “I want to do it myself,” I managed in an almost calm voice.

He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t dare look at his face. I fumbled with the buttons, and one after the other gave way. It took an excruciatingly long time. He waited silently. His calm breathing and my ragged breaths filled the room.

Then I remembered that the groom was supposed to cut the bride out of her gown with his knife. Nino must have forgotten—after all, that wasn’t his tradition either. I didn’t have the courage to remind him or to button my dress again so he could cut me out. I’d lose it completely.

I pulled my dress down and it pooled at my feet. Now only my strapless bra and panties remained. I discarded my bra but didn’t have the courage to remove my panties yet.

Nino’s cold gray eyes scanned the length of me. “Your hair ornaments need to be removed as well. They will be uncomfortable against your skull.”

I choked back a desperate laugh but tried to loosen the fine gold string from my hair. My shaking fingers didn’t allow it. Nino moved closer, and I recoiled. His gray eyes locked on mine. “I will remove it.”

Dropping my arms, I nodded.

His long fingers untangled the adornments from my curls quickly. Then he stepped back again.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

I forced myself toward the bed and lay down flat on my back, my fingers splayed out against the smooth fabric of the blankets.

Nino regarded me coolly. He stepped up to the bed. Tall and muscled and deadly cold, he didn’t look like this affected him in any way. He reached for his belt and unbuckled it. Terror clogged my throat. I looked away, fighting weak tears. From the corner of my eye, I saw him remove his boxers, and then he climbed on the bed, naked and determined. I trembled. I couldn’t stop myself.

His hand touched my waist then slid up slowly. The touch was light. I jerked away. “Don’t touch me.”

His eyes were hard and cold as he looked down at me. “You know I can’t. I won’t give your family any cause to take Las Vegas as weak.” It wasn’t said in a cruel way. He stated facts.

“I know,” I whispered. “Just don’t touch me. Just do what you must.” If there was any leading up to what was to come, I wouldn’t be able to contain my terror.

“If I don’t prepare you, it will be very painful.” He sounded like he didn’t care either way. “It would be better if we got you to relax.”

That wasn’t going to happen. “Just do it,” I said. Pain was okay. I could deal with it.

He regarded me for a couple of moments more. Then he pulled back his hand from my ribcage and sat up. His fingers hooked under the hem of my panties, and he slid them down. A low whimper wedged itself in my throat.

He moved one knee between my legs, parting them, his gray eyes on me. He was moving slowly, and I wished he wouldn’t, wished he would stop looking at me. Panic began to claw its way out of my chest, and I tried to force it back. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block what was happening. When he knelt between my legs completely, I seized up with complete terror.

“If you don’t relax, you will tear.”

My eyes shot open, and a few tears slid out. He supported himself on one arm, hovering over me. Tall and strong. No. No. No. No.

“Try to relax.” He was so clinical about it. His gaze followed the trail my tears left on my cheeks and throat. They didn’t affect him. I tried to loosen up, but it was completely impossible. My muscles were frozen with fear. He gave a small shake of his head, almost disapproving. “This isn’t working,” he said. “I will have to use a lot of force to get past your tensed up muscles and all the way into you.”

I could taste the bitterness of bile in my throat as memories from long ago slithered through my mind.

And something in me just … broke. Something dark and scared and deeply buried. There was no way for me to hold it in.

A bone-shattering sob ripped from my throat, and it hurt because of the memories that it brought up. I pressed my palms against my face hard then curled my hands to fists and pressed my knuckles against my closed eyes. Wanting the memories out of my head, I tried to claw them out like I’d clawed at my uncle many years ago, but just like in the past, there was no escaping.

I couldn’t breathe. Could. Not. Breathe.

And I wanted to die. I needed the hurt gone. I didn’t want to live through that horror again, and I didn’t want new nightmares.

Strong hands curled around my wrists, pulling, and I resisted, struggling, but they were relentless and kept pulling until my hands came away from my face. My eyes snapped open, my vision blurry with tears. And through the fog, two intense gray eyes slowly came into focus, and then they were all I saw, all I could see, all that mattered.

So calm. Clinical. Cold.

Just what I needed. It was a cool flood against this terror-filled inferno. Blissfully emotionless. I stared into his eyes, stared for a long time, and he let me, until I brought the first breath of oxygen into my lungs.

I could breathe again, and the face of my husband came into focus, his narrowed eyes all too knowing.

Lowering my gaze to his chin, I tugged at his hold on my wrists. He released me, and I placed my hands into my lap. My naked lap. He, too, was completely naked, kneeling across from me. He must have pulled me into a sitting position some time during my panic attack.

This was it. He knew something was utterly wrong with me. I pulled my legs against my chest, swallowing.

I wished he’d kill me now. I’d often wished for death after my uncle had broken me.

“What happened to you?” His voice was emotionless.

I considered lying, but I had lied for too long. And I had a feeling he knew. “I was thirteen,” I said, but then I couldn’t say more. I began shaking again, and he put a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t flinch this time. The touch was too clinical to elicit any terror.

“Someone raped you.”

The word made me feel small and dirty and worthless. I gave a nod.

“Your father?”

I shook my head. He was already dead by then, and he would have never done that. He knew I would have been ruined. He hit me and screamed at me, but he never touched me like that. Maybe he would have later on if Luca hadn’t killed him.

“Someone from your extended family, then. Girls like you are protected. It must have been someone you were related to.”

I nodded.

“Who was it?” he asked firmly. “Your uncle who raised you?”

I licked my lips. “My other uncle.”

“For how long?”

I lifted four fingers.

“Four years?”

I shook my head.

“Four times?”

Only four nights, yet every day since.

Ever since.

“I dream about it every night,” I choked out. That admittance felt good. I was doomed anyway. I had sealed my fate. Nothing mattered anymore.

I didn’t dare look up to see his disgust, his anger at having been given someone tainted. “You know,” I said quietly. “A kind man would spare me the humiliation of having to face my family, living in shame, and just kill me.”

“A kind man might,” he said in a low voice.

I raised my eyes, resigned.

A terrifying smile played across Nino’s face. It didn’t reach his eyes. “But I will replace the man who did this to you and make him feel the same terror you did that night and pain unlike anything he thought possible. And eventually, when he has been begging for it for a long time and when he’s given up hope, I’ll grant him death.”

My breath caught in my throat. I stared. I could do nothing else. He was calm about it, but in the depth of his eyes there was something dark and dangerous. Not directed at me. And I didn’t dare hope that this could really be the truth.

“And what will you do to me? I’m not what was promised. I’m not a virgin.”

He looked at me almost as if I’d said something stupid. “I don’t care if you are a virgin. It’s a small piece of flesh that’s completely useless. But I’m aware of the importance it holds in the minds of so many people, even yours.”

“Then why are you furious if it’s not because someone stole what you wanted for yourself?”

“Because someone stole what you weren’t willing to give,” he murmured.

I looked away because stupid tears gathered in my eyes. I didn’t understand his reaction or him for that matter. I’d heard the rumors about Vegas, about how they dealt with women who didn’t pay their debts or displeased Remo Falcone in some other way.

I gestured at the sheets. “It’s tradition. My family expects to see blood.” I swallowed. “If you take me with force, will I bleed?”

He nodded, his expression impassive. “It’s been years for you and you only had sex a few times, so if I use enough force, you will most definitely bleed. Your vaginal muscles are very tense from fear, and you will tear when I force myself into you all the way.”

My stomach constricted. He sounded like a doctor explaining the physical effects of his actions. My lips fought to form the words that rationality wanted to say. “Then do it so my family and the Famiglia get the blood they expect.”

He leaned forward, his beautiful, cold face so close I could see the dark specks in his gray eyes. “They will get blood, don’t worry.”

I nodded and moved to lay back, but he stood from the bed and put on his briefs. Confusion filled me. “I thought you would …?”

He got into his pants and buckled his belt. He didn’t say anything until he was dressed in his black wedding suit again and had strapped on his knives. “I will replace the man who raped you and slaughter him like a pig on these sheets. Do you think that will be enough blood for your family?”

I choked, sliding off the bed, clutching the blankets against my nakedness. “That means war. Luca will kill us all.”

Nino didn’t say anything, but he moved closer. I tensed but didn’t back off. He raised his hand, and I flinched. I hadn’t been hit in years, not since my father—and later Uncle Durant—but my body still expected it.

“I won’t hit you.” I opened my eyes and stared at his white shirt. He put a single finger under my chin and lifted my gaze. His cold face peered down at me, almost curiously as if I was something he needed to understand. “Do you want your uncle to live?”

“No,” I admitted.

And that sealed all our fates.

NINO

I dropped my hand and walked over to the desk to pick up my mobile then raised it to my ear.

Remo picked up after the second ring. “Shouldn’t you be busy?”

“I need you to come over.”

“I assume it’s not because you want me to help you fuck your wife.”

“No, that’s not it.”

Silence. “Two minutes. This better be good. I chose a waitress to fuck.”

He hung up, and as promised he knocked two minutes later. I opened the door, and his dark eyes went to something past me. I stepped back and he entered. Kiara backed away, the sheets still clutched to her naked body, her face tearstained.

Remo turned to me with raised eyebrows. “That was quick. You realize you can’t give her back once you’ve opened her, right?”

“I’m going to kill someone. And I wanted to give you fair warning.”

His twisted grin slipped right off his face. Remo tilted his head. “So you aren’t asking for my permission.”

“No, not this time. I will kill that man and nothing will stop me.”

Remo looked at Kiara, and she flushed, trying to make herself even smaller. Her shoulders rounded in, her arms wrapping the sheets tighter around her body.

“Someone got her before you could? You want to cancel everything?”

“Someone raped her when she was a child.” I paused, regarding my wife, who now stared at the ground, shaking. “And she will come to Las Vegas with me.”

She raised her widened eyes.

“Her rapist is among the guests. He’s the husband of Luca’s Aunt Criminella, Underboss of Pittsburgh,” I said. Remo needed to know the extent of our problems.

“I know.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You knew?”

He shrugged then cracked his neck, stretching out his hands. “Then I better sharpen my knives and load my guns.”

“We could prevent war if we gave Luca a warning.”

“Ask him for permission to deal out revenge on someone who attacked your property?” he snarled. “He gave us less than was promised and you think we owe him anything?”

“Not ask but warn him,” I said. I turned to Kiara, who had pressed herself against the wall at Remo’s outburst. “Get dressed.”

Her gaze flickered between Remo and the bathroom door he stood beside.

Remo understood her expression before I did. He walked over to me, away from the bathroom door. Kiara grabbed her bag and quickly rushed into the bathroom.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“She was scared to walk past me,” Remo said with a shrug.

“She’s fearful.”

“Aren’t they all?” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Fabiano. Savio better stay with Adamo before the kid gets himself killed.”

“Come on,” I said and led him out into the corridor. It was deserted.

Fabiano arrived a few minutes later, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you killed the girl.”

I raised one eyebrow. “I’m not prone to emotional outbursts like Remo.”

“Perhaps you faked your emotions too well,” Fabiano muttered.

“I didn’t. Kiara is alive and well, considering her circumstances.”

Fabiano threw a glance at Remo. “Nino wants to spill the blood of her uncle. Fucked her when she was a kid,” my brother said.

Fabiano grimaced in what I assumed was disgust. “Killing off Luca’s family won’t go over well.”

“Luca would kill him if he weren’t family. I saw the look he gave the old fucker. And the guy isn’t even Luca’s blood. He’s married to Luca’s aunt.”

“It’s one of his men. He will insist on dishing out punishment himself.”

“No,” I said. “He punished Aria’s cousin for leering at her on Outfit territory. He will understand that I need to kill his uncle myself.”

Fabiano considered my words. “Maybe. But it’s not a good start to this union.” He regarded me. “But I see that you will do it no matter what I say, so I will go looking for Luca and attempt damage control. Maybe he hasn’t left for his own mansion yet.” Fabiano paused. “Where will you take the asshole?”

“I will tend to him on my wedding sheets,” I said, and my mouth pulled into a smile.

Fabiano sighed then turned on his heel and went in search of the Famiglia Capo.

“Ready to pick up your date for the night?” Remo said with a laugh.

I tried to figure out what he meant with it.

“I assume you are going to fuck him with your knife.” I stared down at the blade in my holster.

I nodded slowly. “I’m going to take my time breaking him, body and mind.”

“I hope you let me in on the fun.”

I inclined my head. It would be unreasonable to prevent Remo from participating. I knew every spot on a body that brought agony, but Remo knew how to break them with mind games. Both were more effective if applied in combination.

“Let’s go,” I said, and Remo let me lead the way because this was my crusade.

Keeping to the shadows, we found Durant in the gardens with his wife, laughing loudly and clutching a wine glass in his hand. “I hope he’s not drunk,” Remo muttered. “Don’t want him to miss the night of his life.”

“We will get him sober,” I said quietly as I regarded him. He was a tall man, wide shoulders but had a paunch that told me it had been a while since he’d really fought. Not that it mattered.

Remo sneered. “Fucking a kid. That gives even me the creeps. I hope he isn’t one of those that passes out quickly.”

“We will make sure he stays awake.” I wanted him to enjoy every second of his last hours.

Fabiano stood over to the side, beside the buffet, with Luca. It wasn’t difficult to read the Capo’s emotions. He was furious.

“Come on,” I said to Remo. “Let’s grab Durant.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement. I gripped my bowie knife, fingers curling around the smooth wood handle, as Remo and I moved along the fringes of the party. Most people still around were shit-faced. The moment Durant spotted me and my brother, his eyes widened. He dropped the glass and turned, fleeing the party and leaving his wife standing there with a dumbfounded expression.

Remo sighed. “Why do they always think they can escape?”

I began jogging and spotted Durant stumbling down the slope leading to the water. Maybe he hoped he could reach one of the boats and escape. When I reached a good spot, I stopped and flung my knife. The Damascus blade gleamed magnificently in the moonlight before it impaled itself in Durant’s calf. His ear-piercing scream was a good start to the night. No cries of pleasure tonight. Only agony.

Durant fell to his knees, clutching at his calf.

“Nice,” Remo acknowledged as he came to a stop beside me. We walked down the hill slowly as Durant pushed to his feet and tried to hobble toward the nearest boat, but he couldn’t put any pressure on his injured leg. He should have pulled the knife out; it either would have helped him move faster or it would have made him bleed out quickly. Both would have been better outcomes than what awaited him under Remo’s and my hands.

We reached him and Remo walked around to face him. “Why are you leaving? The fun is about to start.”

Durant took a step back. I kicked away his legs so he fell to his knees. I reached for the knife and twisted it. He screamed, his eyes flying up to meet mine. “Whatever she said, the little whore lied.”

“How do you know this is about Kiara?” Remo asked quietly. “Perhaps I can’t stand your face. Nino and I have killed for less.”

Durant’s gaze flitted between my brother and me, his breathing picking up. Terror started to fill his veins like poison. I knew the telltale signs. This was only the beginning.

I leaned down, my mouth curling. “You will admit to it soon enough, and before the sun rises, you will beg Kiara for forgiveness, trust me.”

Twisting the knife again, I left it in his leg. I gave Remo a sign, and we hoisted Durant to his feet, gripping his arms.

As we dragged him back toward the house, Luca and Fabiano stepped in our way. Luca regarded his uncle without any emotion. “This is my territory, and Durant is part of the Famiglia.”

I met his gaze. “That’s true, but I will be the one to tear him apart. Or are you telling me you would have acted differently if someone had dishonored Aria before her wedding night?”

Luca smirked. “I would have killed everyone who would have stopped me from dishing out punishment.” Then his expression hardened. “I need to see Kiara before I can allow you to begin…” his eyes darted to the knife in Durant’s calf “…or to continue.”

“Luca,” Durant began, but Remo jerked his arm, causing the words to die in a scream.

“We will continue, Luca, but of course you can have a quick word with my wife if she agrees.”

Luca’s mouth tightened, but he gave a sharp nod. He followed us as we dragged Durant toward the mansion. A few people caught sight of the scene and stared openly. Matteo jogged over to us, but Romero stayed back with the Scuderi sisters.

“I knew this day would end in a fucking bloody wedding,” Matteo muttered after Luca had filled him in on the details. “Of course, I’d hoped it would give me the chance to stick my knife into one of you fuckers.”

“Ditto,” Remo said with a dangerous grin.

We didn’t stop and as we passed the patio, Giulia caught sight of us. She ripped away from her husband Cassio and stormed toward us as we stepped into the foyer.

“You should leave,” Luca told her firmly.

She stepped in our way and glared at Durant. “Tonight you will finally get what you deserve for what you did to Kiara.” She met my gaze. “Make him pay.”

“Oh, I will.”

Cassio arrived and pulled his wife back. He looked at Luca, resting his hand on his gun. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Luca said. “This is a Camorra matter.”

I inclined my head, surprised by his answer. When we entered the master bedroom, Kiara stood in front of the window, dressed in pants and a thick sweater. She paled when she spotted her uncle and backed away, bumping against the wall.

Remo and I dropped her uncle on the floor.

“What did you tell them, you traitorous whore?” he snarled.

I yanked the knife out of his calf with a sharp twist as I bent over him and rammed my fist into his throat to silence him. He sputtered and fell forward.

Kiara watched the scene with wide eyes.

Luca took a few steps toward Kiara, but she flinched, still crippled by her terror. I barred his way. “Unfortunately, I can’t allow you to go any closer to my wife.”

Luca frowned but nodded. “She is yours.” Then he spoke to Kiara. “I can only allow Nino to punish Durant if I know he deserves it.”

Kiara wrapped her arms around her chest, swallowing hard as she glanced at her uncle then looked away. For a while she didn’t say anything but she began shaking. “I was thirteen,” she whispered then released a broken sob. Her dark eyes met Luca’s, and whatever he saw on her face convinced him because his expression turned to stone as he leveled his gaze on Durant. “You are subject to the Camorra’s judgment, Uncle.” His lips pulled into a smile not unlike the ones Remo was notorious for. “I’d tell you to hope for mercy, but we know you won’t receive any from Nino and Remo.”

Mercy? No.

Durant coughed, still trying to get his voice back after my throat punch. “Luca, I’m your family.”

Luca sneered. “You are a child fucker. You aren’t family.” Luca looked from Kiara to Durant then to me. “Don’t get blood on the ceiling and the walls. It’s a pain in the ass to paint them.”

“Luca! You can’t do that!” Durant begged. He fell forward and clutched Luca’s feet. “I beg you.”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “Let me go.” When Durant didn’t, Luca grabbed him by the collar and threw him away from himself. Durant clambered to his feet with a wince, and I stepped in his way.

Matteo came in and held out rope for Remo, who took it with a twisted smile. Then the Famiglia Consigliere left.

Luca walked out as well, but before he closed the door, he said, “Don’t disturb the neighbors with his screams and don’t feed him his dick. I want to present it with the sheets in the morning to get a message to my men.”

“There are enough other parts of his body we can feed him, don’t worry,” Remo said. “His balls might work well.”

Luca closed the door.

Durant glanced at Kiara, who sat frozen on the sofa beside the bed. “Please, Kiara.”

I smashed my fist into his mouth. He fell backwards, screaming hoarsely. “You won’t address her. You won’t look at her, unless she gives you permission.”

Durant cupped his bleeding mouth, moaning and crying.

“If this makes you cry already, the night won’t be easy for you,” Remo said, pulling his knife out. Then he laughed.

“Do you want my help?” Fabiano asked. He had already rolled up his sleeves and was always a useful asset when it came to torture, but tonight Remo and I would handle this.

“No. Ask the Famiglia doctor for transfusions. I don’t want him to die too soon,” I told him. Fabiano rushed off at once.

Durant scrambled backwards as I advanced. I grabbed him and shoved him toward the bed. He tried to climb off, but I pushed him down and thrust my fist into his balls. He screamed and I leaned over him, staring down at his pain-filled and terror-widened eyes as I wedged a sock into his mouth. “Your screams won’t be heard just like Kiara’s weren’t when you forced your cock into her.” I showed him my knife and murmured, “I will force my blade into every fucking inch of your body. I hope you enjoy it as much as I will.”

I motioned at Remo, and he came forward with rope. We tied Durant down spread eagle.

Pushing off the bed, I began unbuttoning my shirt and shrugged it off. Remo took his shirt off as well. There was no sense ruining our white shirts.

“Do you want her to stay?”

I chanced a glance at Kiara, who hadn’t moved from the sofa, her eyes huge as they regarded her uncle.

“You can leave,” I told her.

“Go to my room,” Remo said. “You can sleep there. I will be too riled up after this to sleep.”

She blinked once then gave a small nod but still didn’t move. Maybe she needed to watch. I turned to her uncle. “First, I’m going to break each of your fingers,” I explained to him. “Fingers that touched without permission.”

I nodded at Remo. I grabbed Durant’s left hand and Remo grabbed his right. “This will be painful. But don’t worry, you’ll get used to the pain. When that happens, I’ll make sure to go a bit harder on you.”