Page 8 of The Forever One

I don’t need to open my eyes to know I’m not home. The fucking smell of this place is the only clue I need. Goats or pigs are my first thought, but the smell of piss is quickly becoming number one on my list of culprits.

Groaning when I try to move, I’m aware that I’m tied down to a chair. By the feel of it all, I’m guessing rope at my ankles and at my wrists behind my back. That’s why my shoulder is fucking killing me. The position is putting way too much fucking pressure on whatever wound I have there.

“Wake up, you filthy American!” Another bucketful of water lands on my face and I fight not to drown.

“Ti ucciderò.” And I will. This motherfucker will be the first person I kill when I get my hands free.

“Not before he kills your wife.” My eyes fly open and the movement makes my entire body convulse with pain. Pain from my shoulder, pain from the ray of sunlight that directly hits my right eye from the small window at the top of the wall in front of me. I blink, momentarily blinded, as I grit my teeth once more to regain a semblance of control.

The man laughs like watching me suffer is better entertainment than Monday night football. He leans down and whispers—no, taunts—in my ear. “Maybe I’ll fuck that whore pussy of hers first, si?” I don’t even think, my body just reacts as my head rears back right before I headbutt this asshole hard enough to make me see stars.

I know I’m in no position to attack, this guy could be capable of a hundred things that would keep me away from my wife, but my primal instinct is to cause pain to those who threaten her.

For my efforts, I get the grip of his gun across my cheek and I know I’ll be sporting a swollen eye in mere minutes. As my head snaps to the side, I see Enzo. He’s barely in better shape than I am and I’m guessing he mouthed off too, if that broken nose and swollen lip is any indication.

We lock eyes and, without a single word, try to communicate. But my brain is slow, rattled, my entire body surviving on just the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

His eyes dart to the door, which means there are more men outside. He narrows his gaze at me, which warns me to keep my mouth shut if I ever want to see my family again.Fuck.

Just as I take a deep breath to ask what’s happening and who this guy is, the wooden door flies open and in walks Ugo motherfucking Ambrosio.

Of course, it’s him. Of course, this tiny little gnat is the reason I’m tied up and bleeding with only a makeshift bandage slowing the blood as it soaks through my clothes.

“Well, well, well, it’s about time, Marco. I was afraid you were going to miss the show.”

I don’t speak, letting him take the stage while I try to learn what’s going on. However, my hatred shines through my narrowed glare.

“Now, be a good little body and keep your mouth shut.”

I take it back. The first person I kill is this piece of shit. I should have done it weeks ago. Months, even. Hell, I should have killed himyearsago when he was promised to Lina, but decided he wanted to fuck half of the Napolitan female population before being tied down to “some American pretending to be Italian.” His words, not mine.

I watch him carefully as he takes his phone out from the inside pocket of his jacket and dials a number. It only rings once—the sound is thankfully broadcast via speakerphone—before the most beautiful music in my world soothes me from my flesh to my soul.

“Speak, motherfucker.” I’m so relieved to hear her voice, strong and even, that I don’t even react to her use of the curse. We’ll have to establish moments where her use of colorful vocabulary is appropriate.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.You are in no position to make demands.” Ugo frowns, probably not understanding why she’s not respecting him and his commands.

“Well, the way I see it, you’re the one who wanted me here bad enough to kidnap my husband, so spill. I’m here. What now?” God, I love this woman, but her words put me on high alert. She’s here? Where the fuck is here?

I turn to Enzo and he mouths, “Italy.”

Goddammit.

“I think he’s bluffing.” It’s Enzo’s turn to go completely still, his calm and even demeanor vanishing after just four little words from the woman he loves.

“Who is that?” Ugo is now pacing in front of us, his temper rising. “I told you to come alone.”

“Like I would be that stupid. Seriously? Did you think I would fly half-way across the world to show up, conveniently alone, on your home turf without some assurances of my own? Jesus, you really are a stupid motherfucker.” Christ, she’s going to get herself killed.

Enzo grunts beside me as the gorilla from earlier gags him with some disgusting-looking cloth, but I see the venom in his eyes knowing Lina is about to put herself in danger.

It’s obvious he wants to hurl obscenities at these pieces of shit but, right now, it’s impossible, so he settles for glaring at me like all this is my fault.

“Someone will meet you at the airport and bring you to me.” He spits his words out like speaking to her is far beneath him.

If only he knew.

“Nah uh. I’m not going anywhere until I know for a fact that Marco and Enzo are alive and safe.”

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