Page 47 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession
I laughed lightly. “Dom, I'm not a child. I won't burn the place down in the hour you're gone. I promise I’ll stay inside, and you know I won’t run.”
He still seemed uncertain, but his phone buzzed again, and whatever he saw on the screen made up his mind. “I'll be back as soon as possible. Please stay inside,” he repeated.
“Of course,” I assured him with my most innocent smile.
The moment the door closed behind him, I sprang into action. I changed quickly into dark jeans and a black sweater, pulling my hair into a tight ponytail, and grabbed a cap and sunglasses. As a teenager, I used to sneak out from our family home all the time, and knew how to avoid being detected.
I waited two minutes to make sure Dom wouldn't come back for something forgotten, then slipped out of the apartment.
I pushed down the pang of guilt at what I was doing. This wasn't about betraying Gastone; this was about knowing what was happening so I could look out for him.
I took the stairs down, too eager to wait for the lift, afraid I’d lost sight of Dom.
Downstairs, I saw him enter a black SUV parked across the street.
I stayed in the shadows of the lobby, watching through the glass doors as he got in and the car pulled away.
Perfect.
I darted out, flagging down a taxi that had just dropped someone off, and asked him to follow.
Chapter 16 - Gastone
I shook with rage as I stared down at the man bound to the chair before me. No matter how agonized I saw him in, my rage never dulled.
Why the fuck was I to show empathy when he showed none to his own fucking brothers?
Blood trickled from his split lip, and from the last punch I had delivered, his right eye was now swollen shut.
He let out a rattled, ragged breath, as though on the brink of something worse. That, too, was an outcome I was willing to deliver.
“I'll ask you again, Marconi. Who paid you?” I asked calmly, like we were two friends having a conversation.
Marconi spat blood onto the concrete floor and looked up at me with fury. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Boss,” I smiled. “It seems you’ve forgotten who I am.”
I nodded at one of my men standing beside me, who handed me a hammer. I tapped it lightly against Marconi's kneecap, watching him flinch.
“Eight of my men died last week,” I said, circling around him like a hawk. “It was surprising, considering how they were moving a shipment that only four of us knew about. Four people, Marconi.” I leaned in close to his ear. “Know anything about that?”
“I told you, I didn't—” His words cut off in a scream as I brought the hammer down on his pinky finger.
“Don't you dare lie to me,” I said, stepping back around to face him. “We've spent a week following every lead. I refused tobelieve it could be one of our own. I protected you, said we must have had a security lapse. But when that seemed unlikely, my team started looking inward. They found something suspicious, Marconi. Why did the bank balance suddenly jump by fifty grand in a single day?”
The shock in his eyes told me everything.
I'd trusted Marconi for five years. He'd worked his way up through my organization, proving himself loyal—or so I thought. I never expected it to be so cheap. To be a traitor. To lead his own friends,ourfamily, to their deaths.
I remember how saddened I was by the news when I heard eight of our own had been killed while collecting a routine shipment of uncut diamonds. Diamonds are a small thing, one would think. No one needed eight. But we were always careful of theft. We had security, negotiators, and drivers. Marconi caused every single one of them to die.
And then, the diamonds went missing.
I spent days digging, questioning, watching for the slightest slip. I barely slept.Barely saw Elena.Every waking hour was devoted to finding the people or person behind this attack.
Never in a million years did my mind run to our own. I thought it had to be an outsider.Had to.
But my men insisted all signs pointed to Marconi.
