Page 107 of Bloody Vows
"Yes, it does." I turn to face him fully, and I can see the moment he recognizes the steel in my voice. "You want me to be your partner? You say you love me? You say you understand that I’m strong? That you want to earn me, to earn this? Then prove it.”
Tristan lets out a sharp breath. "This isn't about business. This is about revenge."
"Exactly. And who has more right to revenge than the person he tried to hurt?"
Tristan stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. Part of him wants to keep me safe, to handle this himself. But another part of him understands what I'm saying. And I think he meant what he said last night.
"What do you want to say to him?" he asks finally.
"I want to look him in the eye and tell him exactly what I think of him. I want him to know that he failed, that he'll never have what he wanted, that he's going to die knowing he lost everything." I feel a cruel smile tugging at the “I want to be the one to say all of that.”
The words hang in the air between us, and I can see the surprise in Tristan's eyes. "Simone..."
"He tried to kill my child, Tristan. He chained me to a bed, stripped me naked, and brought a doctor to hurt me in the worstpossible way." My voice is getting stronger, more certain. "This isn't just about the territory or the power. This is personal."
"You don't have to do this. I can handle it…"
"I know you can. But I need to do this myself. I need to look him in the eye and show him that I'm not the weak little princess he thought I was." My voice doesn’t waver. I look Tristan in the eye, and I let him see how serious I am. That I’m not backing down on this.
Tristan studies my face for a long moment, and I can see him weighing his options. Finally, he nods. "Okay. But we do this my way. You stay behind me, you don't get too close, and if I say we're leaving, we're leaving."
"Fine." I tilt my chin up.
"And Damian and Vitto will be there the whole time."
"Fine."
"Good." He gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. "We'll go after breakfast. I want to check in with my men first, make sure there haven't been any developments overnight."
An hour later, we're driving through Miami toward the warehouse district. Tristan has armed guards in the car behind us, which feels like overkill, but I understand his caution.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks as we pull up to a warehouse on the far side of the docks.
"I'm sure." I take a breath. “I need to see him. I need to say my piece.”
I see that muscle tick in Tristan’s jaw again, see his uncertainty, butI’msure. I’m not going to back down from this, and I know he sees that.
The warehouse is fairly large, but still hot and stuffy. There are guards everywhere, watching every exit and entrance like hawks, and Tristan meets Vitto at the entrance.
"Boss," he says, nodding to Tristan. "Mrs. O'Malley." He inclines his head respectfully to me. "He's in the back room. Still not talking much, but he's conscious."
"Any problems?" Tristan asks.
"None. He's secure."
"Good. We'll want some time alone with him."
Vitto nods and leads us through the warehouse to a smaller room at the back. The door is heavy metal, the kind that would muffle any sound from inside.
"He's all yours," Vitto says, opening the door. He follows us inside, guarding the door as Tristan and I step into the room together.
The room is stark and utilitarian, with a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and a tarp spread out on the floor. Sal is chained to a chair in the center of the room, his expensive suit torn and bloodied. His face is swollen and bruised, and when he looks up at us, I can see that one of his eyes is nearly swollen shut. A few of his teeth are gone, and his lip is split. Damian is standing off to one side, looking at a table where I glimpse a pair of bloody pliers. There’s a hard look on his face, and satisfaction in his eyes. I can imagine why, and I don’t feel bad for Sal at all.
"Well, well," Sal manages thickly, his voice hoarse. "The happy couple."
"Sal." I step forward. Tristan's hand immediately goes to my arm, but I shake him off gently.
"Come to gloat?" Sal asks, spitting blood onto the floor. "Come to see the mighty Sal Envio brought low?"
