Page 125 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

“I’ll go,” he says.

His voice is surprisingly steady.

“Back up,” I bark at Johnny. “Let’s see if he can fucking stand.”

We slowly back away.

Luca wobbles, once, and I’m worried that it’s all for nothing because there isn’t any way that he can fucking make it…

Then, he takes a deep breath, gets both feet underneath him, and pulls himself up to his full height.

My chest constricts, because damn.

Luca is a big guy. But right now? He looks… gaunt. Clearly the last few weeks or however long he’s been down here haven’t been kind, because he looks like the shell of who he once was.

I look at Johnny, who shrugs. “We’ll make it work.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter.

We head back out.

My feet are fucking cold at this point, and I hate to think of what kind of germs and nasty shit are in the water that’s at my ankles by now. The other cells seem empty, or their occupants are too far gone to care that the water seems to slowly be creeping in.

I can’t think about that.

Benicio Souza is a fucking monster. He really is. Elio and Marco are both hard fuckin’ guys, but they don’t have people rotting in cells, slowly dying as water creeps up on them.

Well.

I guess Elio does.

Having been one of the people who rotted in one of his cells, once.

Bile rises in my throat.

This whole fuckin’ business is dirty as shit. And I’ve never really thought about it until now.

Until seeing one of my friends, my guys, that’s been harmed.

We make it out with no guards again. Johnny leads Luca about a hundred yards away from the barracks, near to the main house. The rain is coming down in fuckin’ buckets,but with a quick nod, Johnny and Luca disappear into the forest.

Fucking hell.

I don’t know where his contact point is with Marco, but I know that he better fuckin’ make it there.

I want Luca to make it home.

I’m trudging back to the barracks, my shoes squelching, when a dark shape crosses my vision. It’s almost night, and the square of someone’s shoulders cuts a clear silhouette against the fading sky.

Fuck.

The Russian.

He looks at me, arms folded, eyes narrowed. I glare back at him. “The fuck is your problem?” I hiss.

He gives me one more second before he waves his hand…

And Benicio’s men, armed to the fucking gills, sprout out of the forest around me.

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