Page 25 of The Silence Lies

After one revolution of the chair, Serafina crouches, coming face to face with a now trembling captive. “So if you needed the money for your family, why did you not come to me?”

If it weren’t for the calculating tone, I’d believe that Serafina was showing too many of her cards. I’ve never seen a leader extend an olive branch quite like this, hell, any guy whose enemy showed up at their place unannounced would be dead. Serafina gave Luciano a chance to leave, something I’ve never seen someone in her position do before.

“Why does your family need the money?” she probes.

We all know that’s not really any of her business, but from the look in her eyes, I can tell what she’s doing, and it’s working.

The man shudders beneath her gaze, and if it’s even possible, he shrinks a little farther.

“I thought so,” Sera sighs disappointedly, like she already knows the answer.

The room lapses into silence as Sera turns on her heel, but before she can take a step, Brady cries out for her.

“I’m sorry, Donna Bianchi!”

Sera halts, head dropping, but she doesn’t turn around. Instead, she looks up and locks eyes with me. Something close to helplessness swims in her eyes and she’s gazing at me like I’m the one to give her the strength she needs. For a moment, I see the vulnerability and uncertainty she only allows me to see. We don’t know each other that well, but the few seconds she exposes herself to me are enough for me to accept what I need to do.

All I do is nod, a simple acknowledgement that I know she can do this. She has three guys to back her up and all she has to do is say the words.

My gesture seems to be enough because she takes a deep breath and nods back. She shakes off whatever just transpired between us and offers me an appreciative smile.

“I know,” she finally answers sternly. “But if you had come to me before, none of this would be happening.” In one swift glance at Levi, she walks across the room, away from me to rest against the wall.

“Are you sure you want to stay for this?” Luca questions her. Just from the concern etched in his voice, I can tell he’s unsure whether Sera should watch this. It’s not to protect her by any means. But we all know what’s about to happen, I’ve seen it done a thousand times, even more than that. The first time is always the most harrowing, but she’s remaining resolute, showing strength and authority. This is what a leader does. There’s no mercy for disloyalty. No second chance for those who betray their leaders or families. Serafina just found her shoes, and she’s walking damn proud in them.

“Go on,” she orders, folding her arms across her chest. She paints on the perfect mask of boredom, a look of stoic impatience that would otherwise scare anyone else. But not me.

“It’s playtime, Brady,” Levi grins while prowling around the chair.

While Levi and Luca both draw out their knives, Sera’s focus drifts to her manicured nails.

“It’s a shame, really,” Levi laughs, the sinister tone of his words coaxing a chill to envelop us. “I was taught to bring torture to men with various tools.”

Serafina scoffs at him, rolling her eyes at Levi’s theatrics.

“Same,” Luca joins in. “Pliers are my favorite.”

Georgio quivers in his chair, his shoulders slumping even further as he resigns himself to his fate. If ever there was a moment where a man felt truly helpless, being at the hands of these two is probably rock bottom of that realization.

“Boys,” Serafina warns boredly.

“Oh Donna Bianchi,” Levi lilts, turning his attention to his leader. “Playing with the prey is the best part.”

In any other circumstance, I would agree with the guy. Torture is all about the game, the unknown, the wait. It’s every torturer’s dream.

“I don’t have all night,” she huffs.

“Fine,” Levi sighs. “After you Fontana.”

Luca smiles, an evil, sadistic grin that I have seen countless times on numerous faces. It’s the look of excitement blended with concentration. The expression of a man ready to inflict all the pain and torture he can to the man who exchanged loyalty for money.

He draws his knife down the man’s shirt, the material tearing under the force of the blade. Georgio’s chest is exposed, tattoos and more scars decorating his body. I can already tell by the look in Luca’s eyes this isn’t his first rodeo. He’s most likely been conditioned for the enforcer role, taking the mantle as one to inflict pain when the time comes. Just by the way he surveys Brady, I can see the cogs turning. He’s methodical in his practice, logical and precise in the way he wants to deliver pain.

“I’m not going to lie,” Luca murmurs to him, barely audible over the excitable tension suffocating the room. “This is going to hurt.”

With those words, Luca drags the tip of the blade down the man’s chest. Crimson liquid spills outward from a singular line drawn in the scarred fleshy canvas.

Brady stifles a groan, biting down on his bottom lip to mask the pain.

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