Page 61 of Wild Card

“They shouldn’t have tried to keep you from me. I’m their family. Not you. You’re nothing. Your own father wouldn’t pay a cent to keep you from being murdered. But that’s not my problem.”

A grotesque smile crosses his face, swollen and bruised from his fight with Gio. “Even my nephew won’t want you after Freddie’s done with you.”

He smashes his elbow into my head, and I lose consciousness. When I come to, he’s dragging me out of his car toward a side door cut into the foundation of a fancy looking house. A large, heavyset man is waiting, and steps aside as Lorenzo pulls me down the stairs.

“She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Lorenzo says, “but she’s good looking. That’s for sure.”

“I thought you said she was staying with your mother?” the large man asks.

“She was. But I was tired of waiting so I took care of it, Freddie.”

Oh, this is Freddie.

“What did you do, Lorenzo?”

Mrs. DeLuca said Freddie would have trouble if the sanctity of her home was violated. Lorenzo might be her son, but it’d seem like he was working on Freddie’s orders.

“She’s my mother, Freddie, not yours. Don’t worry about it. Besides, now you’ve got both girls. You’ve got nothing to complain about.”

Both? No.

No.

My vision goes white, panic making my breath catch.

He can’t have my sister. It’s not possible.

I fought so fucking hard and he got her anyway. Desperate, raw terror rips its way through me. I let out a small, distressed noise, my teeth chattering and my breath coming out in pants.

“Ah, sleeping beauty awakes,” Lorenzo says.

“This way.”

Lorenzo follows Freddie, pulling me along, and I’m barely able to keep up. My feet twist and drag on the ground. Did they hurt Birdie? What’s happened to her? A million horrible scenarios play out in front of me. She’s so sweet and innocent—what will this do to her? I’ll never forgive myself. Freddie opens a door in the basement, and Lorenzo pushes me in.

“Catriona? Is that you?”

The room is dim with just a few bare light bulbs illuminating it. The floor is hard concrete, and there’s a mattress on the ground. My sister is on the mattress, curled in a ball, pressed into the wall, crying.

That sound, and the sight of her living my worst nightmare distills my fear into pure rage.

I turn on Lorenzo.

I try to tear his throat out. Scratch his eyes from his head. I dig my nails into his wrist and bite his arm as hard as I can. He howls and backhands me. I hear my sister cry my name as I scramble back to my feet, launching myself at him again. He smashes his fist into my temple, and I fall backwards onto the unforgiving floor. He’s on top of me, his knee in my stomach. He pushes hard enough to make it difficult to breathe, but not enough to cut off the air all together.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He presses his knee to punctuate each word, and I wheeze slightly.

“Let her go. You’re hurting her!” Birdie cries.

“Shut your mouth you little twit,” he yells. “You’d better hope your daddy likes you better than he likes your big sister.”

He keeps me pinned to the floor. The dull pain in my stomach builds, getting sharper and more direct.

“And you,” he says, sneering at me. “I should kill you right now, but even if your daddy won’t pay for you, someone else will. You’re a pretty girl, and I know some men who would appreciate your spirit. And I don’t mean my sniveling nephew. He can’t help you now.”

“Lorenzo, control yourself. Get off of her.”

“Fuck you, Freddie. You haven’t had to deal with this little bitch. I have.”

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