Page 135 of The Devil's Deal

One Week Later

Every dayin the past week has been hell. I miss her. I want her. Not just her body, but her smile, the way she cared for me when I was hurt, the way I know she could love me if she gave us a chance.

I know I messed up, and maybe she won’t forgive me, but I have to get us to a place where she has a chance to try.

Knowing where she is and being unable to see her and talk face-to-face is breaking me down. But forcing her will only drive her further away from me. I have to give her time. I have to do what’s right forher, not for me.

I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing, though. I’ve left a voicemail telling her I missed her. I’ve texted multiple times, groveling like a motherfucker, but it hasn’t worked.

I wrote her a letter too, and mailed it to her aunt’s. I couldn’t say everything I wanted to say with a text. Writing to her, putting the time in to get the words right, felt like the better move. But who knows if she even read it?

I hate that I hurt her. I’d undo it all for a moment where she didn’t look at me the way she did back at her aunt’s. I can’t get that wounded look out of my head. I relive it on a loop like a brutal punishment.

I’ve been barely able to focus on anything besides Chiara, but finding the other Bianchi brothers is still ongoing. For now, we haven’t located them, but we’re close.

Word got out immediately about Faro’s death, making Benvolio the new don. My brothers had also found out some more about what the Bianchis have been up to.

Once Chiara was saved, they filled me in on the other vile things the Bianchis were up to. Things I can’t stop thinking about. Things that sheath my heart in too much rage.

All I smell is the blood of my enemies.

We’ve captured another one of their men, hoping he can give up their location, so I can give them a taste of what they’ve done to us and so many others.

“Come on, Vincenzo,” I say. “I know you know where they are. If you tell me, I promise I won’t make it slow. I’ll end you nice and quick.”

By the looks of his round face, my brothers had their fun before I showed up. They knew the angry state I’ve been in and saved the best for last.

He rocks in his chair, tied in the basement of a building we own, blood dripping from his cheek, his lip. He’ll tell me what I need to know, and if he doesn’t, I’ll break him until he does.

Uncuffing my white button-down, I lift up a sleeve to my elbow, doing the same to the other, taking my time as my loafers hit the concrete, the sound deafening in the stillness, making him squirm.

He eyes me, fear trickling from his gaze, but he tries to hide it.

I pick up a chair from the side, dragging it purposefully loudly, and place it in front of him, sitting backwards as I smirk.

He huffs, his chest climbing hard with force, and then he spits in my face.

The motherfucker spat at me.

“Oh, shit,” Enzo says from behind as I wipe it off with the back of my hand. “You shouldn’t have done that. You just wrote your ownverypainful death sentence.”

“Fuck youall!” Vincenzo bellows, bloody sweat dripping down his face.

I get to my feet, walking off to the corner, kneeling down to open a black briefcase full of fun toys we use to motivate the unmotivated.

Grabbing my favorite one, I stand, kicking away the chair I was in. It connects to the floor with a bang, the menacing sound resonating across the walls.

I tower in front of him, glancing between him and this beauty in my hand, knowing he’s about to not only tell me their location, but to do it with a smile.

Sort of.

I flip a button, revealing blue-yellow flames shooting up from the torch in my hand.

His eyes bulge. “You gonna burn me, you pussy? Do it, then! Do whatever the fuck you want. I ain’t talkin’.”

I switch the torch off, then on again. “We’ll see.”

Circling around him, I keep flipping it on and off.

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