Page 27 of Fractured Devotion

Even through the fog that clouded my thoughts, I was aware that they were fulfilling their threat to discipline me for my defiance. I could faintly feel the rigid board beneath me, signaling my hopeless situation. Andrei moved nearer, his features barely discernible as they floated into my line of sight.

“No one will desire you after we’re finished, Princess,” he sneered. “The only thing your Anastasi blood will bring you is pain.”

The initial slice of the blade was agonizing—a simple message that I was paying for the sins of my family. For an instant, I longed for the release of death. However, a fleeting image of Alex floated through my drug-clouded thoughts, banishing any desire for my own end. As they continued to use me as their own carving board, one resolve crystalized in my mind. I would escape, and I would exact vengeance on every single one of them. They’d made a mistake thinking I was weak. Because as soon as I got free, I was going to kill them all.

Their twisted retribution for simply being alive was swift. Before I knew it, they had yanked me off the table and tried to tidy me up. Their efforts to make me look presentable were almost comical. Fresh cuts and bruises decorated my skin like new tattoos, stark evidence of their brutality.

Lipovsky was ungentle, almost brusque, as he shoved me toward Andrei. Together, they navigated me through the compound until we reached our destination. The moment the threshold of the new room was crossed, a cold sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. Around a small, spot-lit stage, a cadre of men loomed like sharks waiting for their feeding. With a forceful hand, Andrei nudged me toward the stairs ascending to that glaring platform.

My gaze flitted across the sea of faces, each one a mask of anticipation. My breath stalled in my chest when I spotted a man at the far end of the room, his eyes anchored on me. For a fleeting second, I questioned my own senses—could they have slipped me something, creating a drug-induced illusion? But the slight nod of his head confirmed the truth. There, amidst the throng, was my mentor, Harlen Drago, his stare laced with silent fury.

fifteen

ALEX

Three days. That’s how long it took to get a beat on the exact location of Lipovsky’s compound in South America. And now… I felt like I was melting. The Colombian sun was merciless, a fiery beast in the sky that didn’t care if you were on a quest or just trying to get by. It was the kind of day that made you believe the earth could catch fire. But the heat was nothing compared to the inferno burning inside me. I never in a million years thought I’d be back here—yet here I sat, waiting to go in and get my girl.

It had been a massive fight with Carmela’s brothers about who would come to Columbia. Massimo wanted one of them here—but with the new addition of his children and pregnant wives, Antonio nor Vincenzo could bring themselves to risk their lives. It hadn’t mattered; I was coming regardless of their decision. When Lorenzo and Sofia volunteered to once again make the trek to Columbia, I knew these people would do anything for the people they considered family. Massimo had been shocked when Miguel volunteered to escort us as well. Though I wasn’t. I suspected he had a personal stake in being here—one that would create a different kind of problem.

“We can’t just go in for Carmela,” Lorenzo spoke, his voice slicing through the air. “There are others, others like her, who need us. We can’t turn our backs on them.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. Carmela, the woman I loved, was inside that hell, but so were many others. We couldn’t just pick and choose who to save—and Carmela wouldn’t leave them behind either.

“Remember, her friend, Harlan Drago, is on the inside,” Sofia continued, her eyes alight with a fierce determination. “He’s someone Carmela will recognize. He’ll let her know she’s not alone, that we’re coming for her.”

Miguel pushed off from the wall, stepping into Sofia’s path. “And what about you, huh? You plan on prancing in there, making yourself a target?”

The air crackled with the intensity of their stare-down. Sofia’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, not with embarrassment but with anger. “Prancing? Really, Miguel? Because I’m a woman, I’m supposed to sit on the sidelines while you play the hero?”

This wasn’t a new argument. When we decided in Vegas that only the four of us would make this trip, Miguel hit the roof. He was pissed that Lorenzo and their father would allow Sofia to take part in something so dangerous.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Miguel shot back, frustration edging his words. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Sofia’s laughter was sharp, bitter. “Oh, I see. Because I’m a woman, I’m automatically more fragile, is that it? Spare me your sexist crap, Miguel.”

Lorenzo stepped in, a calming presence between the storm. “Enough,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “Miguel, you know better than to doubt Sofia’s capabilities. She can take care of herself, as she has proven many times already. I, for one, wouldn’t want to be on her bad side.”

Miguel’s jaw clenched, but he held Lorenzo’s gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Lorenzo was right, and we all knew it. Sofia was not one to be underestimated, which is exactly why she was his second in command in Reno. She was as beautiful as she was deadly, and men loved her nearly as much as they feared her.

I cleared my throat, feeling the weight of leadership heavy on my shoulders. “Look, I get it. We’re all tense, all worried, but we’re here for a reason. To save Carmela, yes, but Lorenzo’s right. There are others in there, others who need us just as much. We can’t lose sight of that. You two need to get your shit together and save this sexual frustration for later.”

Miguel started to speak, but Sofia held her hand up, silencing him.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll all go in for all of them. No one gets left behind.”

Miguel met Sofia’s gaze, a silent apology mixed with something that resembled fear in his eye. Sofia accepted it with a small, acknowledging nod, the tension between them shifting, morphing into something that crackled with an entirely different kind of electricity.

“Alright, then.” Lorenzo clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and commanding. “Let’s get to work and stop fucking around. We have a plan to finalize, women to save, and a man to kill. And I’d really like to get home sometime this month.”

With that, we dove back into the fray, our resolve strengthened, and our mission clear. We were a team, a family forged in the fires of adversity. And nothing, not arguments, danger, or even our own uncertainties, would stand in our way.

So, we waited, tucked in the shadows of the Columbian forest just outside Lipovsky’s compound. When she told us that she’d found someone who could help us, I was skeptical. Until she explained who he was. This man had saved Carmela, then turned her into a weapon. His initial focus was to use her to find his own daughter, who’d been stolen and sold into the skin trade, but that had morphed into a friendship, which Sofia explained as being solid. Now, he was here, helping us save her.

Anxiety riddled my body as I watched men go in and out of the front gate. I desperately wanted to get inside the brick walls and wrap Carmela in my arms, but as Lorenzo has mentioned many times, the timing had to be perfect. Waiting for the perfect moment was torture, but we’d finally managed to get beyond the gated front.

The inside of the compound was worse than any of us had imagined. The air was thick with despair, the walls echoing with the ghostly whispers of lost hope. Nothing could have prepared us for the reality of it.

We found the first four cages hidden away in a dimly lit corner, a small, cramped space that reeked of neglect. Inside, women huddled against the bars, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope. Without a word, Lorenzo set to work on the first lock, his tools whispering against the metal until it clicked open. He repeated the process with the remaining three cages, shoving the door open and granting the prisoners their freedom. The women were shells of despair. We had to help them out of the tiny prisons—the drugs they’d been plied with weighted them down, making it impossible for any of them to walk out on their own two feet.

---