Page 55 of Beautiful Vows

The previous beatings have already battered my body to the brink, and with each new strike, I struggle to suck enough air into my lungs, the desperate need for oxygen overwhelming me.

It stops and my head drops.

“Are you ready to talk?” He hisses in my ear as his hot breath sends a shiver of fear down my spine.

Still defiant as ever, I grunt, “Fuck you.”

My head snaps to the right as another blow connects. Stars explode behind my close eyelids.

My vision blurs as my swollen eyes strain to make out the faint glimmer of light, but blackness encroaches around the edges, and my eyes close involuntarily.

“Then let me tell you what I know. You might want to reassess your answers.” The voice takes on a mocking tone, each word dripping with disdain.

My heart pounds in my chest as I hear him step closer again. The sound of his footsteps is like a ticking time bomb.

“I know he did it. What I want to know is why he did it?”

He’s lying. Nobody but me, Cade, and Dante know what happened to Nicolai Bianchi.

“Tell me why your brother did it?” he demands, the same question he’s been asking since I arrived at this place I’ve never been. The mafia have plenty of warehouses at their disposal, up and down the coast, but I know we went through a tunnel to get here. So I’m north of Brisbane or in New South Wales.

With the ocean so close, and the distance we traveled, I think we’re in New South Wales. So far away from home. The thought sends shivers of terror down my spine. An icy tendril of fear tightens around my heart.

I hear his fist fly whoosh into the air before I feel it, the telltale whistle preceding the blow.

“Argh! Fuck!” My lungs deplete of air and I slump forward.

But it’s the sickening sensation of my brain feeling like mush in my skull that’s most worrying. All I want to do is cradle my throbbing head, but the restraints that bind me to this chair render me helpless, a prisoner in my own battered body.

I need to fight.

Not him, that’s impossible. I need to fight the urge my body has to shut down, because I’m dying here. The realization sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, a last desperate bid for survival.

I try to slow down my frantic, shallow breaths. Each intake of air is agony to my bruised rib cage.

“Let me tell you something.” His voice takes on a sinister edge, laced with a twisted sense of glee. “My father was murdered, but someone made a massive mistake in doing that. Because as his next of kin, I got access to his safe and guess what I found.”

He laughs, the sound chilling my very soul as it echoes off the concrete walls. “We found the original recording of the night my brother died.”

Oh shit!

“And it shows that it was Dante who killed Nicolai. At least the person who dragged him to the river and threw his body into it like he was shark food.” His footsteps quicken as he gets closer again. He lowers his face until I can feel his hot breath on my skin, and hisses, spittle splattering the side of my face. “Then again, you are twins. I may be mistaken. Maybe it was you.”

We got rid of the evidence, recorded over the evening. One hour before and one after the time of his death. Somehow, we made a mistake along the way.

“You know what I hate? My father always knew who killed his own son,” he says, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “And he kept the knowledge of his killer in his safe. Why was that? Why did he protect a de Luca?”

How the fuck would I know? Is what I should say. Instead, my bruised lips twist into a defiant snarl as I growl, “Because he knew your brother was a piece of shit who deserved to die.”

This time, his heavy fist lands on my chest with the force of a wrecking ball, leaving me struggling for air, and my lungs screaming in agony.

Everyone knew Nic Bianchi was a disturbed man. A man who trafficked not only drugs for his father and the Syndicate but also people. And despite the Syndicate’s failings, human trafficking was something they didn't get involved in.

Apparently, drug trafficking is a much more lucrative affair.

But Nic countered that argument by using the humans as drug mules. Every mule who got past the border control had their debt paid.

“I’m going to lure your brother to his death,” he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. “But before I do, I want him to see the pain he caused me. I want him to see his twin die in front of his eyes and not be able to do a fucking thing about it.” He lets out a chilling laugh that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. “And then I’ll torture him before I slowly take his life. And then I’ll kill Xander. Your father won’t have an heir. I’ll erase your family from the Syndicate.”

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