Page 80 of Sexted By a Stranger
In the distance, Luca's face went completely pale the moment Connor finished speaking.
His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles cracking ominously. In the shadows, Lennox and Ragnar's shoulders tensedsimultaneously, like panthers about to pounce; the atmosphere stretched to its breaking point.
Don't panic. Luca. Don't fall for it.
I put all my strength into my will, pouring everything into my eyes as I met his gaze.
I'm okay. I'm fine. Trust me. Stay calm. You have to stay calm.
Meanwhile, my hands, bound behind my back, hidden by sleeves and rope, began using every ounce of strength to work the small, cold blade between my fingers as Connor became extremely agitated and his guard dropped slightly.
Each tiny sawing motion felt like red-hot wire cutting into my nerves, but I couldn't stop. My soul was torn in half—one half desperately holding Luca's gaze, the other silently counting down in the darkness.
Faster! Go faster!
Chapter 25
Luca
The dim light of the Celestial cut through the haze, shadows twisting across the grimy floor. My eyes locked onto the figure shoved into the room, stumbling forward like a broken bird caught in a storm.
Sheila.
Her long, chestnut hair clung to her sweat-drenched forehead, matted against her swollen, bruised cheeks. A streak of blood stained the corner of her mouth, stark against her pale skin. My chest tightened, a raw, tearing pain threatening to rip me apart.
"Sheila…" Her name burned in my throat, but my voice wouldn't come.
Connor smirked, waving his goons back with a lazy flick of his hand. He yanked Sheila into his grip, his left arm clamping around her neck like a vise. His right hand pressed a heavy black pistol against her temple, forcing her head to tilt slightly. She winced, her body trembling as he ground the barrel into her skin with malicious glee.
"Sheila," I whispered again, barely audible, my blood boiling. The cold, murderous rage surged, nearly drowning out every shred of reason.
"Boss." Ragnar's voice crackled through my earpiece, tense and urgent. "Sniper's in position, but Connor's got Miss Stella in a seventy percent overlap. It's too risky. Any move could hit her."
Lennox cut in, his voice tight. "Perimeter's clear, but Connor's got at least five or six guys still hiding out there. Positions unknown. Boss, stay cool. We need to wait."
I couldn't move. One wrong step, one twitch, and Connor's already frayed nerves might snap, taking Sheila with him. My grip tightened on my gun, forcing myself to stay grounded, to think.
"Connor," I said, my voice ice-cold, "let her go. This is your last chance."
"Chance?" Connor's laugh was a grating, unhinged cackle, like he'd heard the punchline of the century. "Luca Bellomo. Look who's got whose balls in a vice now."
He tightened his arm around Sheila's neck, making her gasp and tilt her head back in pain. Her body shook, but she didn't scream. My stellina—she didn't deserve this.
"How's my deal sound?" Connor's voice cracked with excitement, practically shrill. "Nod, and you get your precious stellina back. But…" He dragged out the word, savoring it. "I changed my mind. I want your territory and your life."
"You seem to forget who's beaten your ass before," I said, my voice low and venomous. "You Irish mutt who ran crying!"
His fat face turned purple, veins bulging. "What did you say?"
"Underground fight pit," I sneered. "Who was it crawling through the sewers like a rat?"
"Shut your fucking mouth." Spittle flew from his lips, some landing on Sheila's face. "The transfer papers. Sign them now, or I'll blow her pretty little head off right here."
My eyes flicked to the documents—Soprano's entire New York operation, handed over on a platter. Greedy bastard. He'd choke on it.
"Before I sign," I said, unmoving, "you might want to hear this."
I raised a small audio player, my thumb hitting play.
