Page 72 of Sworn to Revenge
It’s a familiar embrace—one that pulls me away from the chaos of the shore and into a world that is very dark, but still feels like mine. “Come on!” I call to Mariana as I glide forward, her body following just behind.
Once she’s deep enough, I drag her further in. The hunter’s mark will keep her alive until we reach the Coral of Life, and that all-too-familiar guilt—one I thought I’d never have to feel again—grips my chest.
I’m saving my family. I’m saving the people I love. I have to remember that.
Pedro
Luca hasn’t been himself since returning from Malibu Beach without Bay. If he’s this shaken, what the hell happened to her? His only answer— “She’s fine, Pedro”—drives me insane.
For the last few hours, he’s been taking out all his rage on Will, but he refuses to kill him no matter how much information he’s already given us.
“He’s using Will to blow off steam, I assume?” I ask Mariano, who stands beside me, heating up the pliers over a flame to prepare for a burn. Those pliers have already taken off dozens of balls and fingers from the people tortured here.
Mariano shrugs, his eyes fixed on the flame. I can’t tell if he’s indifferent, focused, or simply finds solace in routine. My thoughts keep drifting back to Bay. Luca’s silence gnaws at me like a dull blade. Something went wrong. I know it.
“We’ve already got all the names of the Russians who worked withthem, locations of the French safe houses, and there’s still one more Russian soldier in the other room that we haven’t even started torturing yet,” I remind Mariano, still waiting to hear his thoughts on the matter. Luca never stays in the torture room longer than necessary; he doesn’t like to waste time—that, he leaves to Mariano.
“If you keep pushing for answers while he’s in this state, Pedro, there’s a chance you’ll be the one ending up in that chair. Let him vent his rage, then we can ask,” he tries to silence me with logic. I hate that he’s right.
I sigh and lean back against the torture table behind me, watching my other brother torment Will. His screams have lost their edge, just hoarse chirps that flutter and fade like a dying bird. He’s a shell of himself, the fight drained from his eyes long ago.
“If we can’t talk about the heavy cloud hanging over the room, why not make a bet?” I shoot a wicked look at Mariano.
He chuckles immediately, as if reading my mind. “How much?” he asks.
“Ten thousand dollars says he’s out in five minutes,” I say, flashing Mariano a cocky grin, almost tasting victory already. Will’s barely holding on—one push and he’ll be out cold.
“I’ll bet you $10,000 he doesn’t pass out—hell, he’ll stay conscious for the whole hour,” his smile widens, like he knows something I don’t. I can’t blame him—he’s been in this room with Luca more times than I can count. But with how Will looks, I doubt he’ll last even another second.
“Are you serious? He’s about to collapse any second now,” I chuckle.
“Deal.” I finally lock eyes with Mariano. But the glint in his gaze tellsme he’s playing the long game. Damn it, he really knows something I don’t.
Mariano shakes my hand with his free one, like it’s just another day at the office, while the pliers dangle casually from his other hand, heated and ready for Luca’s command. “You’re not often with us in the torture room. Luca doesn’t like letting them pass out. You know how impatient he is.”
“This time, I don’t think he’ll be able to keep him conscious,” I announce, confident in my win.
“We’ll see…” Mariano glances down at his luxury gold watch, counting down the minutes for our bet.
Will’s eyes flutter shut, his head lolling back, barely holding on. Every breath sounds like it’s being ripped out of him, wet and shallow. “Here it comes,” I murmur to Mariano with a smirk, as Luca leans in close to say something into Will’s ear.
“It’s your loss that’s coming, you mean.” Mariano chuckles, nodding his head toward Luca, urging me to watch closely. I turn back to Luca in anticipation.
Luca’s voice reaches Will, low and intense, and I watch as if it’s just another day. But in the back of my mind, all I can hear is Luca saying, “She’s fine,” and I know it’s a lie. Something’s off—and I need to find out wha—
Will’s eyes suddenly snap open in panic. He struggles against the leather straps binding him to the iron chair, now stained red. I sigh heavily. I lost.What did he just say to him?
“I take payments only in full. Transfer me the $10,000,” Mariano laughs quietly, careful not to interrupt Luca’s work—like a mother giving her childa punching bag to get his frustrations out on.
“It’s not over yet; the hour’s not up. Let’s see if you really won,” I joke, raising my hands in surrender. But he’s won, that much is clear.
“You’ve only got three fingers left. What good are you to me now?” Luca’s voice drips with disgust, and his kick is brutal, the kind that’s more about rage than necessity. The iron chair crashes back, and for a split second, everything goes silent before the echo of Will’s head hitting concrete fills the room.
“Oh, could this mean you’ve lost the bet?” I crane my neck to take a peek, wondering if maybe he’s dead from the blow. Mariano crosses his arms, not pleased with how things turned out. But then a gurgling cough, spraying blood, comes from Will’s head against the floor.
“Come on, really?!” I finally concede, and Mariano grins in victory. “That’s just luck, not skill!” I declare, as if everything going on in this basement is somehow fair.
“Stop running your mouths back there,” Luca yells at us. “I need a strong drink—let’s go up.” He heads toward the stairs leading back into the house, tossing the bloodstained knife onto the floor with clear dissatisfaction,the clang echoes through the basement.
