Page 87 of Brutal Legacy

Relief flowed through me, thick and sweet. I couldn’t deny it. I was relieved that he was Elio. I felt safer. I could breathe again. That was the shameful truth, deep down in the dark, where no one could see.

His hand around my neck slipped to my necklace, the chain pulling taut.

My locket. My testament to the past.

Fuck, I was such a pushover. A traitor to myself.

The reminder was like a bucket of ice water over the head.

I twisted away and rested my front against the wall, the cold of the tile slashing through my heated skin.

“Are you done? Am I clean?” I asked in a muted tone. I didn’t turn and see Elio’s expression. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t risk forgetting who this man was. Once upon a time, he’d brought my entire world crashing down. He’d left me. I could never trust him again.

He was quiet, and then the heat of his body disappeared. I kept my eyes closed for a long while, until the soft snick of the door shutting hit my ears. I peered through the steam.

I was alone. He’d gone.

I grabbed my necklace, sliding my finger over the closed locket, hiding my weaknesses inside, and holding it over my heart.

24

ELIO

Then

Ilay on my bunk, trying hard not to move and set off my injuries. Last night’s assault had been extra vicious. It hadn’t helped that I’d made it a game not to show any emotion when they hit me. Sure, the first few weeks it had been tough, but I was becoming hardened to it now.

Last night had happened because I’d been caught in the west wing when the kitchen deliveries were made. I knew the schedule of all external contacts with the prison… and one day, I would escape. Nothing could keep me here when she was waiting for me.

The week before, I’d been pummeled for bribing another inmate to make a call for me. The call had never happened.

The last four weeks, I’d truly learned what being powerless meant. I’d been beaten and starved and mocked. I’d thought I might die a few times… but I couldn’t.

Not while she was waiting for me.

“Man, you must like pain. I’ve never seen another motherfucker go after it like you do. What, you really think you can escape, De Sanctis?” my cellmate asked, chewing the damn toothpick he was never without.

Sergio Ravelli was a low-level thug who was in for aggravated assault. He was older than me and had taken me under his wing, in a way, when I’d first gone inside. They called me De Sanctis because that was the name on my paperwork. No one knew I was here, and Bellisario had me admitted with a fake name. It boiled my blood.

“I told you that wasn’t my name. Escape has to be possible.”

“Santori, whatever. The way you’re going about it, it’s not. What you need is a sponsor. Someone important who will get you out. If you find one, ask for me, too. I can’t stand the thought of being in here another ten years.”

“I don’t know anyone who’d help me,” I told him confidently, just as a guard rapped on the bars.

“Santori. Visitor.”

My heart leapt. Was it Georgia? Had she found me?

“Holy shit — look at that! Maybe your luck is about to change!” Sergio sat up and grabbed my arm when I passed. “But don’t forget… you owe me, Santori. If you get out of here, you’d better find a way to take me with you.”

I stared down at Sergio’s hand, and something in my expression made him pull back.

“Just remember. If you figure a way out of here, it’s for both of us,” he repeated and stepped back.

I walked away without giving him a second thought. I had a visitor, and there was only one person in the world I could think of who would come and see me here.

When Renato De Sanctis walked into the room, I couldn’t have been more surprised. Sure, I’d been getting closer to the elusive Mafia heir when I’d lived in Castel Amaro, but him visiting me was still a surprise. I’d thought he’d been in the US.Wait, was he here about the bag that Alfredo had set me up to take?

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