Page 29 of Dark Mafia Vows

“Just making sure you’re not hiding anything,” I reply coldly, never taking my gaze off him. “You had some balls thinking you could con me, Esteban.”

Before he can respond, I grab a fistful of his hair and slam his head against the bedside table. The sharp crack of his skull hitting wood echoes in the room. Blood splatters across the polished mahogany surface, and he grunts in pain, disoriented and stumbling. I pull him up, and he’s barely standing—his legs wobble, one side of his face already swelling, blood pouring from his ears and nose.

“Perfect,” I muse before shoving him into a chair my men have set up in the middle of the room. They tie him down, his body limp, and I unzip the bag we brought with us.

I pull out my switchblade—one of my favorites. Its blades gleam under the dim light, varying from curved to jagged, each designed to inflict maximum pain. When I approach him slowly and grab his hands, which have been tied together in his front, his eyes widen, and I can see the realization dawning on him.

“Dario, p-please,” he stammers, his voice cracking. “We can negotiate. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

I let out a dark chuckle. “You had a whole week to do that, Esteban.”

I grab his hand, his fingers trembling beneath my grip as I run the blade over his skin, choosing which one to slice first. His pleas turn into a desperate wail as I press the blade againsthis left index finger, cutting through flesh and bone. The finger drops to the floor with a wet thud, blood spraying across his lap.

“You know how ruthless I am,” I snarl, the blade gliding over his pinky next. “And yet, you still thought you could play with fire.”

“I’m sorry! Please, Dario, don’t—” His voice is raw, choked with sobs as I sever it and move toward his thumb. Blood pours from his hand, soaking the chair beneath him.

“Dario, please,” he cries, his voice breaking as tears stream down his face. “Don’t kill me...please, for old times’ sake.”

I ignore his pathetic whimpering, slicing through his remaining fingers with precision, his cries drowned out by the sound of bone cracking under my knife.

“Be quiet,” I say with a cold smile, “and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

He’s a broken mess now, sniffling and whimpering as I casually count the remaining fingers on his left hand.

“Seven left,” I muse aloud. “I think I’m being too generous.” I press down on his right hand. Another loud cry leaves his lips when I twist the middle finger of his left hand, feeling the sharp tip of my blade piercing skin and muscle.

Just then, one of my men bursts in, his face pale. “Boss, we found someone in the basement.”

Esteban’s eyes widen in terror, tears streaming down his face as they drag in an unconscious girl.

I laugh, a dark sound, until my voice dies in my throat. “You sick, twisted?—”

It’s Ginny.

My breath hitches. She’s been tied up, her face bruised and smeared with dried blood. A slap mark streaks across her cheek, nothing life-threatening but still enough to make my stomach twist into knots. My mouth dries up with an odd, bitter taste as my eyes trace her body. Her head hangs low, her postureslumped. Defeated. I’ve never seen her like this before. She looks so small, fragile, and weak.

“Take her to the car and stay with her,” I order Anton, my most trusted man.

As they head out of the room, my mind reels as I imagine what they must have done to her. My eyes go red in fury as I turn to Esteban and grab his neck.

“Did you touch her?” I hiss, tightening my fingers around his throat. His eyes widen in terror, shaking his head frantically, but I squeeze tighter.

His breath comes out in short gasps, desperate for air, while his face turns crimson under my grip.

“I didn’t... I swear!” he rasps, choking out the words. “My men brought her in this afternoon. She wouldn’t shut up, so they roughed her up a bit, but I didn’t lay a finger on her.”

I release him, and he collapses onto his knees, wheezing like a dying dog. Relief washes over me knowing she wasn’t violated, but that doesn’t extinguish the rage burning inside me. She was locked up, beaten like some lowlife criminal. It stirs something deep, something primal.

“You’ve just crossed a line even I can’t save you from,” I growl.

“I didn’t think?—”

“How and why did you find her?” I cut him off, grinding my teeth. “Of what use is she to you?”

Esteban trembles, desperation leaking from his every pore. “I invested in her brother’s company,” he sputters. “I lost millions of dollars. I was just trying to get back at Lorenzo.”

The pieces start falling into place. “You’re a creditor of the Bianchi Group. You screwed me, then dumped the money into their company...”

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