Page 2 of The Freedom in Captivity

Rafael slaps his hand on my shoulder as he comes up beside me. “Make this one hurt, Flynn. She’s a De Falco.”

Another one. It’s been made common knowledge through the soldier lines that Stefano De Falco has been causing issues for Nico and his family. His most recent plan was to use Della, his stepdaughter, to lure Nico to his death, but based on the wedding ring that now decorates her left hand, De Falco’s objective didn’t go as planned. But if the woman in the chair is another De Falco, it makes me wonder how many he has in his reservoir to use.

“What’d she do?” Not that it makes much of a difference. If Nico commands death, she receives death, but I ask out of curiosity.

“Drugged Aurora,” Rosen replies sharply. “She’s in the fucking hospital because of this bitch.”

This scrap of a womanhurta Corsetti? My responding snarl is menacing, the need for everyone down here to go away growing with every passing second so I can deliver retribution for the family who’ve only ever done right by me. Enzo and Caterina Corsetti, parents to three of the four men present, became what mine never bothered to be: caring and supportive about my well-being.

Aurora Corsetti is their daughter, and while I’ve yet to meet her, I know who she is. Existing with Corsetti as her surname means she owns my loyalty and I’d die for her. She’s recently returned to the family after Enzo and Caterina had sent her away as a child in fear for her life after Hawke was kidnapped, tortured, and raped.

That happened a couple years before Caterina found me.

After Rosen finishes tying the woman’s ankles to the chair, he stands, glaring down at her. His anger seems stronger than normal, and I reflect on the tone of his words earlier, realization coming to me in a snap. Rosen was charged with protecting Aurora, but his grave expression tells me his protection detail has gone further than it should have. Paired with the dark spots beneath his eyes, the raggedness of his clothing, which I think is—was—a tux at one time, and the mess of his hair, he’s exhausted. His movements are rough and jerky, uncontrolled and unlike the disciplined soldier I know.

Rosen’s in love with Aurora.

Love is a strange emotion, but it’s one even I’ve felt. Once. It was fleeting and false, exactly like the girl who had enticed those feelings. But I’ve also witnessed the expression on Enzo’s face every time he gazes at his wife like the sun begins and sets with her.

I don’t bother with the family politics, but whispers claim Aurora is engaged to the underboss of an American a crime family. Whatever plays out there clearly has no part in Rosen’s thirst for revenge.

“Remove the bag,” Nico commands.

From behind the chair, I rip the bag off her head, drop it to the floor, and immediately head for the wall to the right for a better view. From my boot, I pull out the knife, mindlessly picking at the blade for something to keep my hands busy until I’m granted the permission I’m craving. But based on Rosen’s expression, it’s clear he wants the first hit, and I’ll have to wait a bit longer.

His attention diverts toward the table at the back of the room, studying over the weapons there. I wonder how far Rosen will take his own revenge; how apparent he’s about to make his true feelings known.

Against the wall, I’m able to see the woman’s face and my grip barely remains on the knife. Hell, my grip on fuckingrealityscarcely remains.

An angel’s face.

Myangel’s face.

Chunks of light, blonde hair fall over her face, covering the small, upturned nose, full cheeks, and light blue-green eyes that always hid a deeper pain, one she was hesitant to share.

Beneath my feet, the cement floor breaks apart, a crack connecting her to me. Like an energy compelling us to be near one another, even after all this time.

I shove off the wall, wanting to stand upright before I fall over—ironic, yes. But the confusion wracking my body needs to end before it drags me down completely, losing all stability.

The woman tied to the chair, a De Falco apparently, is a face that continues to haunt me to this day.

She’s the only person to have made me feelanything. The reason Caterina found me semi-living when she discovered me hiding out behind dumpster. The reason I understand the fleeting emotion called love.

And one of the reasons I’ve lived my life covered in hate, the emotion that closely follows the briefest exchange of love.

Once upon a time, I would have died for this woman.

Before Rozelyn was a De Falco, she wasmine. My friend. My sanity. The bright light that shone through our life of darkness.

I bathed in that goodness, fell in love with her very being, made promises I vowed to keep. Promises she made in return but didn’t stand by.

Early on, I learned to look out for myself and myself alone. She was theonlyone to ever make me consider otherwise. To make me want to care for someone else. Even when my own emotional bruises were aching, she was my priority. Kissing away her pain made my own tolerable.

The saying that there’s a thin line between love and hate is fucking true. My love for her transformed into hate in the same breath she told me goodbye.

Rozelyn

Life sucks.

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