Page 86 of Inferno

If we ever cross paths again, I vow to break her and drag her into the depths of hell with me.

I am not the same man I was five years ago.

She is best staying wherever she is hiding.

The acrid smell of Conan’s cigar filled the air as he approached, his throat clearing snapping me back to reality.

He looks just like Dad.

“Good trip?” Conan's sly smile means he knows exactly what he’s digging at.

“The games are still going ahead then?” he asks as he swipes a bottle of whiskey from the shelf.

“The games are on every year,” I reply dryly.

“Why don’t you just go find that woman you’re obsessed with and marry her? Why make her come to you without an invite? I mean, come on, you could find her if you really wanted to. Ask Enzo again. You say you hate her, and I believe you, but I also know you better than that.”

I could ask Enzo again. But truthfully, I don’t know how I’d react.

He couldn’t find her the first time. Why would he now?

I’ve played it over in my head, us meeting again for the first time again. Each time, I believe her lies.

She could make me weak.

Or she could plunge me so far into the darkness that my last shred of humanity is gone.

And my brothers need me.

“Excuse me?”

I don’t know who the fuck my brother thinks he’s speaking to. Just because he fights in a cage doesn’t mean I won’t crack his skull open.

“I don’t want a wife. I want a slave.”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re too nice to your submissives. You ever left one in the woods all night?”

“Just because you’re deranged doesn’t mean I’m nice. I do my punishments differently, each catered to the woman.”

He rolls his eyes and slumps down on the velvet couch in front of me.

“I don’t mean it like that. I mean, it’s been five years. I don’t think the women that work at Inferno are what you want.”

I swirl the ice in my whiskey and the clinking sound fills the quiet room.

“Well, she doesn’t exist.”

“Hmm.” He knocks back his own drink and slams it on the table in front of him, then kicks his feet up. I smack them straight off.

“Feet off, you filthy fucking pig.”

“No wonder she did a runner. Get that stick out of your ass, bro.”

Before he can continue, I dart my arm across the table and grab him by the neck.

“She didn’t run away. She fucking betrayed me and nearly landed me in an Italian jail to rot. So unless you want to live in the fucking woods and forage for food for the rest of your life, Isuggest you shut that fucking mouth and go do some work. The chocolate factory still has to run, you know? That’s the whole idea of a fucking front.”

A wicked smile forms on his lips.

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