Page 78 of Broken Princess

“Smart girl. When did you figure it out?”

This is the point where Nico pipes up, and when he speaks, I can’t meet his eyes. I’m ashamed of myself. How can he bear to look at a woman who allowed herself to be broken?

“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck you two are talking about?” I hate to hear the uncertainty in his voice. Like he’s worried that I’m keeping something from him.

Salvatore ignores him and continues to stare me down. “How long, Aurora?”

“I’ve known exactly what type of monster he was from the day I married him.” I shake my head to chase away any emotion from bubbling up at my next words. “But as soon as I saw the photos of my sister’s autopsy, I knew.” My words ending on a whisper.

I hear the sharp intake of breath to my left from Nico, but I cannot turn my head. If I look away from the cold heartless eyes of Salvatore De Luca, I will shatter into a thousand pieces. The only thing holding me together is the rage I feel. The molten fury that burns through my veins to know that I’ve been touched, fucked, raped by the man who killed my sister is indescribable.

Nico tries to rise to his feet, but Salvatore lifts his gun, takes aim and shoots without blinking. I cry out and instinctively reach for Nico, only to be held back by the man at my back. My heart is screaming at me to move, to run to his side. But just like with my father, I’m forced to watch as someone I care about is hurt. It’s torture—worse than any pain Max could ever inflict.

Nico falls forward on his hands and knees, grunting and grinding his teeth, as if trying to bite back the pain. Blood immediately flows from the entrance and exit wounds above his knee. It looks like a through-and-through, but that doesn’t mean he’s not in agony.

“Down boy, honestly, I don’t understand why we keep you bastards around. You may be useful occasionally, but you’re a bitch to train. Stay.” Salvatore spits out, nodding to the men behind Nico and they lean over to pull him back up to a kneeling position again.

“He’s doing it again.” I throw out, hoping to distract him from Nico. I know we’re fucked, but the longer we can stay alive, the longer we have to figure a way out of this shit-show. Chances are fucking slim, though. I don’t know if Salvatore has all of us or if Enzo, Sin, or Benny are coming.

The only thing I can do is keep Salvatore talking.

“Without me, he’s back out there, creating more messes. Do you even know how many there were between my sister and marrying me?” I can’t mask the anger any longer, my voice catching as I grind out my words through gritted teeth.

Salvatore is noticeably uncomfortable, flinching at my words, but I keep pushing, revelling in the fact that I can make him squirm.

“Come on, there’s no way there weren’t others. But there are no bodies from back then, else there would have been connections made to my sister’s death. You’re telling me there was nothing for a whole fucking decade? What did you do to protect him, Salvatore?” The more playful I force my cadence to be, the more it seems to irk him.

“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” He practically spits out the words, sneering at my confidence, disdainful that I have the gall to question him and obviously irritated that I don’t show him the fear he expects.

“I am so fucking clever. How many?” I push.

Salvatore makes a show of clenching his jaw, before saying, “Five. But I couldn’t prove that they were his, so I just made them disappear. And after the wedding, the problem went away.”

“And what did you think was going to happen when he no longer had me as an outlet? He’s right back out there. You’re losing your touch, De Luca. There are already bodies showing up and he’s getting fucking sloppy. Two in four weeks.”

“You’re lying!”

I raise an eyebrow, daring him to question me and he storms around his desk and sits down, pulling out his phone and making a call. “Get my son here within the hour.” He’s about to end the call when he says, “And bring Marco to my office.” He throws the phone down on the desk and levels his icy blue eyes on mine. They’re the same as his son’s and it’s hard to meet them without being bombarded with images of those same soulless orbs hovering over me, taking everything from me, over and over again.

“What’s the plan, Salvatore?”

“Wait and see,” is all I get back in response.

Time stretches out and the only noises in the room are the desynchronised breaths of its occupants. What should be imperceptible little huffs become increasingly loud and oppressive to me. Torturous and pulling at my nerve endings. While I have been able to endure complete silence for days, the small noises of the people in this room are slowly building to a rampant crescendo that feels deafening.

Nico’s the quietest of them all, despite his injury. The blood from his wounds has seeped into the dark denim, the stain slowly travelling down towards the floor. His jaw is rigid from gritting his teeth so hard. I can see the beads of sweat tumbling from his forehead that he’s straining to maintain his composure. There’s no way a man like Nico will allow himself to buckle now.

The ornate, gold clock on the mantle behind Salvatore’s shoulder tells me it’s been a few minutes despite feeling like an eternity when the doors open again, and yet more of Salvatore’s men escort Marco into the room. I don’t miss the look of disdain he casts over Nico, and the smirk that falls across his features when he realises Nico’s bleeding. Cunt.

“Tell me, Aurora, as you’re so clever. What do you think will be Marco’s position in the new organisation when I dissolve The Syndicate and absorb the Bianchis?”

“Do you want me to tell you what he thinks his position will be? Or what it will actually be?” I say with a confidence and flair I don’t fully feel.

Salvatore smiles before letting out a genuine laugh. Its authenticity does nothing to dispel the note of menace in it. He nods for me to continue.

I look back at Benny’s father and stare him down as I say, “He believes he’s going to maintain his position as capo under you, potentially being promoted when the prince ascends his throne.” My distaste at his treachery is evident in every word that passes my lips, my tone cold.

“But…” Salvatore prompts. His manner is void of all sentiment. Blank and unfeeling.

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