Page 72 of Dangerous Devotion

Suddenly, a figure loomed before us. I lashed out instinctively, my fist connecting with a solid jaw. The attacker stumbled back, surprised by my unexpected resistance.

Isa capitalized on the moment and delivered a swift kick to his midsection.

We sprinted past him.

But our victory was short-lived.

More masked figures emerged from the shadows.

They surrounded us and stopped our forward momentum.

I felt a surge of desperate energy, throwing elbows and knees at anyone who came close. Beside me, Isa fought like a cornered wildcat, her movements a blur of controlled chaos.

“Damn it, they’ve got some fight in them,” one attacker grunted, narrowly avoiding Isa’s swinging fist.

Another voice cut through the melee, authoritative and annoyed. “Remember, the boss wants them unharmed.”

The words sent a chill down my spine, but I didn’t have time to dwell on their implications. Our resistance was impressive but ultimately futile. I saw a flash of metal and heard the distinctive sound of a taser crackling to life.

“Sorry about this, ladies,” the voice said, not sounding sorry at all.

I braced for the shock, but instead, I felt a sharp sting in my neck. My hand flew up, fingers brushing against a small dart. The world began to tilt and sway around me.

“Isa…” I mumbled, my tongue suddenly thick and uncooperative.

My vision blurred.

Isa slumped to the ground, a similar dart protruding from her shoulder.

And then darkness claimed me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind us, the sound ricocheting off the damp concrete walls.

I watched, completely void of emotions, as my men dragged the sniveling staff member across the room, their grip iron-tight on his scrawny arms.

He was Marianna’s nephew, which added a layer of complicated—not that it mattered. Nobody poisoned one of mine and got away with it.

Nobody.

I side-eyed Hero, who flanked me, his eyes hard as flint. Until now, I’d spared my brothers the dirtier side of the business as much as I could. Not that it was of much use since my father dragged them in as much as he could—his idea of indoctrination and education.

The air was thick with tension, tainted by the metallic scent of fear that clung to the man like a second skin. His eyes darted around in terror, taking in the array of sinister toolslining the walls and the ominous chair in the center of the room.

They shoved the man into the chair bolted to the center of the floor and closed the ancient iron shackles. A little reminder that my nonno—as soft and as loving as he was to me—had another side. He wasn’t the boss of the Salvini family for nothing.

He whimpered as the rusted metal bit into his skin.

Pathetic.

I curled my lips in disgust, then leaned in close, our faces mere inches apart. “Who ordered the poisoning?” I said, my voice low and menacing.

“I-I don’t know! P-please, I swear I don’t?—”

I straightened, traced a finger along the tray of gleaming instruments. I picked a knife, tested the edge of the blade, then, with a soft scraping sound, cut in a straight line across his forearm.

The man stared at the blood oozing from the cut. He trembled, sweat beading on his forehead as he stammered.

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