Page 64 of Unspoken Obsession

My heart is pounding when I read her message. So, this means finding out who I am and telling her my name - it will all be worth it because it has built trust between us. She wants to talk to me, to open up.

Me: I will see you at six. I promise you that no matter what you share with me, you are safe with me.

I don't know how I am going to stay calm and collected until six tonight. I want to see her now. I've waited so long to hear her secrets.

Once I find out what she has been hiding, I can figure out how to help her - what I can do for her.

I guess there is one sure way to distract me from the waiting.

I make my way underground, far below the magic theme of the casino, into the dark and grungy world of my other life.

I have a man to speak to.

"Where is he?" I ask the manager, walking into his cold office. He doesn't seem to notice the cold, and even when I asked if he wanted to sort the air out, he said no.

"He's in cold storage three."

"Thanks."

I take off my jacket, leave it on a hook on the back of his door, and then leave the office rolling my sleeves up.

The smell is astounding when I enter the cold damp, confined space we have the man chained up in. He is hangingwith his hands bound above his head. His feet are off the ground, just like the carcasses of the wild animals we smuggle in and out -- only he's alive, and has pissed his pants in fear.

He looks almost dead, and if it wasn't for the shallow breathing I see in the rise and fall of his rib cage, I would have been pissed off. You can't question a dead man. Dead men tell no lies and spill no truths.

My crew has already worked him over. He either tried to run or got cocky with them.

I kick his leg and his body swings, making the chain clink.

"Hello," I say, and he tries to blink his heavy eyes open. One of them is too swollen. He stares at me with the eyes of a man full of regrets.

"The Shadow." He mumbles through cracked, dry lips.

"So, you knew who you were fucking with when you broke into my tunnels." I walk around him, looking him up and down.

He must be freezing. They have stripped him down to nothing but his underwear.

"I—I?—"

"You what?"

"Please just kill me." He says, tears spilling from his eyes. He is desperate. And that tells me enough.

"Not until you tell me who you work for."

"I can't—my family."

This confirms my suspicions. Whoever sent him here is powerful enough to put enough fear into him he would choose death over speaking a name.

"I can protect your family if you give me what you want."

"No—no you can't. No one can."

There is only one man who could create that kind of fear. He didn't need to snitch, saying nothing was enough.

I grin. The darkness in my smile makes the man tense and his body goes rigid with fear.

"Antonio Musetti," I say, watching his face. The old man is making bold moves, swerving out of his lane and into mine.

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