Page 58 of Promised Vows

I didn’t talk. I stared out the window. Where had I failed her? I had guards everywhere.

“Don’t, Ari.” Dimitris’s calm voice pierced my thoughts. “You did everything you could.”

“Not enough.” I glanced at my brother. “Lorenzo will talk, or I’ll cut out his tongue and make him choke on it.”

The limo didn’t come to a complete stop before I had the door open and was out. I stormed through the building and stopped in front of Lorenzo’s cell. I knew the moment he looked at me they’d planned to take Anna today.

“Where is she?”

Lorenzo laughed. “I tell you, or what? You’ll cut my fingers off? My tongue? Other body parts? You still won’t have your information, and the entire time you’re working me over, Anna will be…getting the Moretti special treatment.”

Dimitris stopped next to me.

Holding eye contact with Lorenzo, I leaned closer to my brother, whispering, “Do you have the acid?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Get it.”

I grinned. Acid wasn’t a quick slice. The pain didn’t stop. It would kill him, and it would hurt the entire time like being dropped in one of Yellowstone’s sulfur pits. If we lived closer, I’d take him there and do exactly that.

Dimitris nodded and left to get the chemical while I unlocked Lorenzo’s cell. He tried to take a swipe at me with one of his legs, and I brought my foot down on his knee. Bone crunched and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. I grabbed him by the hair and yanked him to his feet.

“If you think you can make me talk with a little pain, you’re kidding yourself,” he panted.

I dropped him in a chair and secured him to it. “You’ll talk.” I had every confidence he would. I’d seen a demonstration, and it made me sick to my stomach. We’d acquired some acid, but I’d never had any intention of using it. It was for extreme cases, and I was going to make sure we never got into a situation that called for it. So much for that.

Dimitris returned with two vials. “I didn’t want to make two trips,” he said and set them on the table in front of Lorenzo.

I walked to the table and leaned against it, crossing my feet at the ankles. Watching him, I noticed that broken knee was causing him way more pain than he was showing. It was commendable. I couldn’t—no, I could say I’d most likely be the same way. I wouldn’t rat on my family.

Lorenzo’s chest heaved in and out as sweat poured down his face. “I told you that I’m not talking.”

“Yeah, I heard you. I think you’ll change your mind.” I straightened and picked up one of the vials. “Lorenzo, this is acid. Do you know what acid does to the human body? It’s worse than fire. It burrows in and burns the entire way. I’ve seen it used on people. You will die in agony if you don’t tell me where Anna is.” I hated torture. I hated it, but I wouldn’t admit that weakness aloud.

His lips twisted. “I told you, Kalantzis, I’m not talking.” His eyes locked on mine. “I hope Marco’s got her and showing her what a real man can do. I bet that bangin’ body of…”

Somehow, I kept my cool. Maybe it was the thought that this stuff could spill on me, and I knew what it could do that kept my movements measured. I uncapped the vial, picked a spot on his leg, and let a few drops hit him.

At first, it seemed to stop at eating a hole in his pants, then worked his way down to his flesh. He clamped his lips together to keep himself from screaming.

I moved up his leg, and this time, my hand slipped a little and I dumped a good ten percent on him. He couldn’t hold back the wail. At first, acidic fumes gnawed through the cotton fibers of his jeans, the stench overwhelming. Hair and flesh were next, and lastly, a sickly-sweet odor filled the air.

“Tell me where Anna is, Lorenzo. I will keep pouring this on you until you are nothing but Swiss cheese if necessary.”

He gasped for breath. “No.”

With a grunt, I looked at Dimitris. “Hold his head, keep his eye open.” I approached him again and paused. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

No answer.

“Where is Anna?”

I counted to three and tipped the vial. His feral scream sliced through the air, a guttural sound I’d never wish on my worst enemy. He thrashed violently against the restraints, tendons straining, eyes rolling back.

An acrid, meaty odor flooded my senses in an unstoppable wave—something reminiscent of grilled hamburger. My stomach roiled in protest, threatening to unleash its contents right then and there.

“If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll put you out of your misery. You have to the count of?—”

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