Page 113 of Masked Hearts

There are also two other men with him this time, and Enzo seems to have disappeared the same way my hallucination of Theá did.

“Time for round two. You still have a few more ribs that are unbroken, right?” His sickly smirk pulls across his face.

“Barely,” I cough and wince in pain immediately after. I’ve definitely broken something, because every time I breathe, pain shoots through my abdomen. The slightest worry passes through me at the realization.

What if it pierces my lung? At least I’ll die faster then, instead of putting up with this sick fuck.

“This pain you’re feeling is for my uncle Mattheo.”

“That’s stupid,” I quip, shifting so I can try to sit up and lean against a wall. “It’s not like he suffered; it was a bullet straight through the brain. I’m sure he was dead before he could even realise what was happening.”

The sound of the hammer of a pistol clicking next to my head has me falling silent.

“How about we test your theory, and when I meet you in hell, you can let me know if it’s true?” Kylian is crouched down in front of me. And as much as I want to hate him and spit in his face for all he’s done to me, all I see is Theá.

“Pussy,” he scoffs, rolling eyes as something hard makes contact with the back of my head, sending the room spinning into orbit again.

Next thing I know, my head is being ripped back, and a blindfold is being tied around my head. “Woah, guys, I’m not really into this sort of thing. I mean, Theá was, but I’m all about catering to her needs and—” A hand flies across my face, smacking me before I could finish my sentence. I smirk, knowing I’m irritating him.

“Speak about my sister again and I won’t hesitate putting bullet in your head again, dipshit.”

“Fair enough,” I pout and shrug. I want to laugh because even in this state, it’s clear as day that Theá will always be his weakness.

He doesn’t know where she is, and right now, I think that’s the only reason I’m still alive. She may be the reason I’m here, but she might also be the reason I’m alive—the irony isn’t lost on me.

“Get up,” one of the men grunts, and I can hear the tinge of an accent. It’s different from Kylian. It’s Italian.

“Does theCosa Nostraknow you’re working for the cartel?” I ask, and the hand pulling me to my feet freezes before moving slowly.

“You’re a dead man, so they’ll never know.”

“Yeah, yeah. So I’ve heard. Who can I talk to about my funeral arrangements? Because I have very specific requests. I can’t have Aunty Rosalia and her daughters there, because the tears will never stop. And Adriano can’t be the one to do the eulogy, because he’ll expose all my secrets… Then again, neither can Ambrose; he’ll bore the entire church. Maybe just get Mattia to do it. At least he’s funny sometimes.”

“Putain!Do you ever shut up?”

“I do, but since I’m a dead man, I may as well talk while I can. Besides, your sister loves the sound of my voice, especially when I’m whispering all the things I’m going to do to her—”

A punch lands on my side, the side where there must be ribs broken, and I groan out in pain.

“He told you to shut up about her.”

“Let him continue, he’s digging his own grave.”

I slump into the grip of the large man holding me up, and he doesn’t even flinch as he drags my body to wherever he wants me to be.

“You know, she talks about you a lot,” I say, but hear no response from Kylian. “Even more than Pierre. She misses you a lot.”

“I didn’t go anywhere she did,” he says softly, and I can hear the faint hum of engines. We’re going to be moving, but to where.

My best guess is I was at the house up until now, but they’re taking me to a second location for some reason. The building’s safety has probably been compromised.

“She misses who you used to be. Before all this. She wishes you didn’t choose to go down this path after everything that happened, especially with your mamá—”

“You know nothing about our mother, so do not speak of her,” he snaps, and I can feel him dangerously close to me. “Actually, I’ve had enough of your uncontrollable yapping. Gag him.”

“Oh goodie, I’ve always wanted to be….argh,” I groan as Muscles next to me shoves a large piece of fabric into my mouth. The next second, I’m being hoisted into a seat, presumably in a car.

Doors shut, and I do the only thing I can, which is try to sit upright despite every nerve in my body telling me to collapse right now. My head is aching, hell, my entire body is aching, and I know in my soul I can’t take any more beatings to my abdomen before it becomes detrimental. I’m sure it already is, but then I remember Enzo’s words.

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