Page 55 of The Casella King

My heart does a little flip at the mention of her name.

“Who’s the person responsible for giving us this information?” I question.

“We don’t know, sir.” His voice falters. “Theycalledus.”

“What do you mean?” Confusion rattles my brain as he continues.

“They used a voice changer and hung up before we could trace the call,” he pauses, waiting for me to respond, then adds, “They also sent us a photo of her, as proof.” Nico’s phone dings, and he opens the message. The photo looks like it’s been screen captured from a security camera. Aries is sitting in the corner of the almost empty room, her head resting on the wall behind her.

I’m conflicted between feeling at ease at the sight of her unharmed, and furious that she has put herself in this situation.

“I guess we owe them a huge thanks.” Nico speaks for me, my mind unable to come up with anything, or think of anyone inside the Brayford house who would be willing to help us at all.

For the first time in days, I feel a little less psychotic, a little less tense, and a lot more faithful that Nico’s plan will work. He hangs up, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Don’t.” I walk away from him and pick up my duffel, slinging it over my shoulder. Nico raises his hands in surrender.

“I wasn’t about to say anything.” He chuckles as we both make our way out to my Porsche.

Ashiver rolls down my spine, goose bumps forming on my arms as the cold settles into my bones. It’s been three days since I’ve been here, waiting. They’ve fed me, given me soup with bread and water, which is more than I expected them to, but I can’t help the nagging feeling taking over my mind. I can’t exactly give them more information on the Casellas without compromising them too much, which leaves me in an even shittier position than when I came here. I wrack my brain for ideas, my arms wrapping around myself, trying to keep my body warm as I sit on the cold concrete floor. The basement door flies open, thudding when it hits the wall behind. Black boots descend the staircase, until the same man I saw the first night I came here stands before me, with three men standing tall behind him. I get to my feet immediately, putting some distance between us.

“Turns out your information checks out.” He smiles, a sinister feeling swirling inside my stomach as his eyes narrow.

“So will you give me a proper reception?” I place my hand on my hips, and I’m shocked at how calm I am. “Since I practically helped you get back your product from your lifelong nemesis?”

He chuckles, the throaty sound filling the empty space in the basement. “You are brave, I’ll give you that.” He lunges forward, both hands clasping around my shirt, lifting me up off the floor. He bangs me against the wall behind, the back of my head stinging from the impact. “Do you think you’re smarter than the rest of us, you bitch?” I grip his hands, trying to pry them off, his stale breath fans my face as he speaks. “Do you think I would just let you into my home, if I didn’t already have a plan for you?” Terror clumps in my throat at his words.

Is he onto me?

“Don’t think for one second that if I find out that your intentions aren’t what they seem, that I will let you live. I will dismember you in front of Ezra and save his sweet death for last.” His knuckles bruise my collarbone as he presses me into the wall. “And one more thing.” He leans in, the stench of cigar mixed with whiskey engulfing my surroundings as he whispers into my ear. “It was only half the product.” He drops me and steps away, cool air brushing my cheek as I steady myself against the wall.

My heart pounds in my ears as I think of what to say next.

“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t kill me.” I rub the sore spot on my collarbone. “I know where the rest of it is.”

“Go on then, love. I don’t have all fucking day.” He lights up a cigar, waiting for my answer, and I search my mind for somewhere, anywhere I can lead them without them catching onto what I’m doing or what my plan is.

“They have a distillery.” My voice comes out scratchy.

“They have many.” His eyes are focused on me, the men behind him haven’t moved a muscle. “What about them?”

I hesitate, hoping that what I am about to tell him next is correct, otherwise I might just be handing him my head on a silver platter. If I know Ezra, I know he wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide the rest of the product in their warehouses There are too many cops searching illegal facilities. Instead, what better place to hide it than right under their noses?

“The rest of your product is in their Brixton distillery,” I say through a clenched jaw.

He snaps his fingers, and all three men walk up the stairs and out of the basement. The air grows thick as he watches me, whilst he brings his cigar to his mouth, sucking then blowing out a puff of smoke.

“You know, I used to think the Casella boys were smart,” he drawls. I don’t dare speak, afraid of what I might say. “But now,” his eyes graze from my face down my body to my feet and back up again. “I’ve realised they’re dumb enough to trust a woman.” He steps closer, causing me to back up against the wall. He steals the space, sucking it up like a black hole, as his eyes throw daggers into mine. The hatred rolls off his skin, cascading through the air and settling over me like hard pellets of rain. He leans in, his nose brushing the top of my ear, sending a shiver rolling down my spine. “I won’t be making the same mistake,” he whispers, as nausea bubbles inside my stomach and a searing pain lodges itself on my arm, my screams billowing through the emptiness as he retreats, walking back up the stairs without another word. I look at my arm, the burnt flesh angry and red, raised above the rest of my skin.

Fucker.

He fucking burnt me with the end of his cigar.

I just hope the information I gave them is correct and that they do find what they’re looking for, otherwise I’m dead, and this effort to prove something will have been in vain.

I blow on my fresh wound, hoping it’ll ease the stinging somehow, and it doesn’t. Tears well up in my eyes at the pain searing deep into my bones, and I wish I could just cut it off and be done with it, but life doesn’t work that way. Life makes you work for it, live through it, and heal by the end of it, even if it leaves a hideous scar. I clench my teeth from the sting and just as I’m about to rip the end of my jeans to have something to wrap my wound with, I hear the door to the basement click, my eyes darting to it. The door opens slowly, as the pounding in my chest rapidly increases, revealing the same woman from before. Walking in, she gently closes the door and makes her way down the steps with a black box in her hand.

“Come to tell me how much I don’t belong again?” My voice is cruel, but I don’t care. The pain has overtaken my body, and all I want to do is hurt them right back.

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