Page 403 of Savage Bosses

Wasn’t that what he’d been doing his entire life? So many people wanted to kill him simply because he was Patrick Cattaneo’s son.

“Patrizio Cattaneo killed my grandfather,” Ritchie yelled, using Bryce’s father’s Italian name. “How? How was he able to get a shot off without my grandfather’s guards putting him down before he drew his weapon? How?”

Amid the chaos, Bryce had found himself wondering the same thing. Why hadn’t the guards fired on his dad when they saw his father reaching for a weapon?

“Rock!” Ritchie called out. “Have the guards talked yet? Have they said why they didn’t shoot first?”

Bryce was unable to look behind him to see this Rock guy who Ritchie was talking to.

“Not yet,” Rock answered. “Both claimed they’d fired as soon as they realized something was wrong. One of the guards is still being tortured. The other died in the middle of the interrogation from a gunshot wound he attained at the restaurant.”

“Fuck. Threaten to cut the other guard’s dick off. That’ll get him to talk. I need answers, and I need them now.”

“Yes, boss.”

Ritchie returned his attention to Bryce. “Now, it’s time to get you to talk. What else does your father have planned?”

Bryce shook his head. His father never stuck to things like plans. That was one of the reasons his father and his uncle, Don Cattaneo, were always at odds. His uncle was always having to clean up behind his father.

“I asked you a question, bitch,” Ritchie sneered.

Bryceson clenched his teeth to keep from lashing out. In this situation, he didn’t need to make his captor any angrier.

“I’ll make you motherfuckers talk,” Ritchie yelled, with a crazed look in his eyes. “I’ll make all of you motherfuckers talk.”

With that, Richie struck him across the face, causing Bryceson's head to snap back and fresh blood to trickle down his chin. The pain was sharp and intense, and he could feel his rage boiling over, threatening to consume him completely.

"Go to hell," Bryceson spat, even as his body trembled from the force of the blow and the throbbing ache of the gunshot wound on his leg.

Richie laughed, a cold, cruel sound that held no mirth.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll both get there eventually. Let's have some fun first, shall we?" Ritchie suggested, stretching his arm out to the side.

A heavy-set, bald guy came into view and handed Ritchie a metal bat.Shit. In the hours that followed, Bryceson endured unimaginable pain at the hands of Richie Grecco. He was beaten, cut, and burned. Each new method of torture was more brutal than the last. It got so bad that he found himself begging for his life after three hours of torture.

His pleas were met with laughter and only made things worse for him. His eyes were now swollen shut. He didn’t know if he was awake or unconscious. All he saw was darkness. All he heard was muffled sounds. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. Through it all, he clung to the image of Tatianna's face.

He prayed he survived this. Not for his family. Not even for himself. But for her. Because he never wanted her to cry because of him. So, he continued to hold on because leaving her wasn’t an option.

Hours ticked by, and the feeling returned to his limbs, accompanied by pain, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Every part of him ached. The first sound he heard when he awakened was Ritchie’s voice.

"Your father will come for you," Richie hissed, his breath hot against Bryceson's ear as the man tightened the ropes around Bryce’s wrists. "My guys have reported that he’s out looking for you. When he comes, I'll make sure to kill him right in front of you."

Bryceson tried to speak, but his words came out garbled as blood poured from the corner of his mouth.

"Pathetic," Richie snarled, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "I almost feel sorry for you. You probably had no idea that your father wanted you to get taken. He wanted a reason to go to war against us. He’s even saying that you were taken before the incident at the restaurant. Since his men got to the cameras before mine could, I can’t prove him wrong. I can’t prove that he started this shit, not us. Still, all of this sucks for you. You're nothing more than a pawn in your father's game."

Bryce let those words sink in. He wished he could say he didn’t believe those harsh words. However, he knew his father. This was something his father would do. He didn’t even blame his father for this. It was Bryce’s fault for always hoping his dad would start acting like a normal dad.

But his father had proven time and time again that he’d had Bryce for one reason, to be a tool in his arsenal. Even the Don treated his sons better than Patrizio Cattaneo treated his. So, though Ritchie’s words hurt almost as badly as the bat he’d used on him, Bryce didn’t let it show. He held it in as he did everything else unpleasant.

“Just looking at you pisses me off,” Ritchie yelled before kicking Bryce in the chest and sending his chair tumbling to the ground.

Bryce landed with a hard thud. Then, Ritchie was on him, pounding his fists in Bryce’s face. As his consciousness began to slip away, Bryceson swore to himself that he would find a way out of this nightmare and that he would not let his father's actions dictate his destiny. He would walk away from this horrible life.

Even if it meant defying and disowning the very blood that ran through his veins.

Chapter Seven

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