Page 17 of Brutal Surrender

Did I make her go mad? I half hope. It would serve the bitch right for trying to kill me. But then I’d have to stop torturing her. As fucked up as I am, I couldn’t assault a mentally ill woman.

I recall the look in Ramona’s eyes, still full of her hate for me, and possibly for herself for responding to me, coming for me. There was a glimmer of torment in those verdant irises, which suggested the opposite of someone who might be losing their grip on reality.

She has more mental fortitude than I expected. I put her through some serious shit, and I’m not even counting the father she lost because of me. I remind myself to tell Esen to review the list of people we’ve killed and identify potential fathers, most likely aged forty or above.

I should give Ramona a break. And not just because I’m putting her through hell. Although I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if my father died—my mother once admitted he beat her even when she was pregnant with me—Ramona clearly had a better relationship with her father, and the loss meant something to her. I shouldn’t begrudge her her desire to kill me. It takes courage to go up against someone like me.

I turn up the volume and hear her say “…la cicogna cantò.”

Which translates to “…the stork sang.” I know Italian pretty well. Learned it when the Black Dragon started collaborating with the Mafia.

“Ma l’april non rifiorì…”

But the April did not bloom again.

I freeze. She’s not speaking. She’s singing. And I know that fucking melody.

It makes me want to rip out her vocal chords.

Chapter 9

Martina

Isabella’s favorite opera was Puccini’s Turandot. When I was younger and distressed or couldn’t fall asleep because there might be monsters under my bed, my sister would sing the libretto.

Là sui monti dell’Est la cicogna cantò.

Ma l’april non rifiorì, ma la neve non sgelò.

Dal deserto al mar non odi tu mille voci sospirar:

“Principessa, scendi a me! Tutto fiorirà, tutto splenderà!” Ah!

Most people’s favorite part of the opera is the aria “Nessun Dorma,” but I favor this melody. Found throughout the opera, it definitely evokes the feeling of ancient China.

More importantly to me, it makes me feel like Isabella is with me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to join her, to be reunited with my whole family. The thought is very enticing as I continue to softly sing in my cage. Thanks to Vincent, my life has become a living hell. If I could be with Isabella—

The sound of a door slamming open startles me. It’s Vincent, with Reggie and Cho behind him.

Please, no more waterboarding!

Vincent glares at me as if he wants to set me on fire with his eyes. “Don’t ever sing that song again.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he psycho?

“I didn’t say you could fucking sing,” he seethes.

Did he storm in here because I was singing? What the fuck? I’ve never heard from anyone that Vincent had a screw loose, but what else explains this craziness?

“Did you fucking hear me?!”

His anger leaves me at a loss for words.

He turns to Reggie. “Get her out of there.”

Oh no.

“I heard, I heard,” I quickly say as Reggie unlocks the cage and hauls me out.

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