Page 83 of Twisted Union

“Why not just kill me? I have nothing to live for anymore.”

Marco frowns, looming over me like the giant he is. “What happened to the man who would go to any lengths to gain power?”

“He fell in love.” I hiccup. “And she’s gone.”

Marco huffs. “You can’t be serious. You’re not a man who falls in love. I didn’t think it was possible for psychopaths.”

I shoot him a glare as I push myself to standing. “Well, then, you know nothing of psychopaths.” I poke him in the chest, and Marco just looks at me like I’m a drunk fool. Well, I guess I am.

“This is no fun,” he mutters. “I don’t like to kill people in cold blood, especially when they’re out of their minds drunk. But I can’t let you go. You need to pay for what you did to Gemma. You’re coming with me, so you can sober up, and then I’m going to kill you.”

“If it were me, I’d torture me for what I’d done.” I wave my arms frantically as I almost fall backward. I catch myself at the last second.

“Good thing I’m not you. I don’t enjoy torturing people. I’ll put a bullet in your head and be done with it.”

“Where are we going?”

“To LA. I want you out of New York and far away from Gemma and Emilia. You’ll be a prisoner in my home until you fully sober up and then—”

“Bullet to the head. I got it.” I sigh and shove my hands in Marco’s direction. “Fine. Take me away, officer.”

Marco shakes his head and grabs my arm, stuffing me into his car. I know I should probably be putting up more of a fight, but I’m too drunk to care. Besides, I don’t even really want to live without Gemma. I’ve never had someone at my side like her, and I’ll probably never again, so I might as well die. At least this way, she’ll be safe from all my destruction.

Marco starts to pull out of the lot when he slams on the brakes. I’m not wearing a seatbelt, so I my face ends up smacking into the dashboard. “Ow.” I rub my head while Marco looks pleased. Ok, probably should have put on a seatbelt. I fumble with it, not noticing what else is going on until someone approaches Marco’s car.

It’s fucking Franco. Of course, it is.

“About time,” I mutter when Marco rolls down his window.

“How did you catch him?” Franco asks Marco.

“He’s drunk.”

Franco sniffs the air, and a sneer crosses his face. “You’re right. He smells like cheap beer. Fitting for the man who’s nothing more than a jizz-stain left behind on a prostitute’s dress.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I mean, you could be a little bit nicer about it. I don’t smellthatbad.” I sniff my armpit and recoil. “You know what? Never mind.”

Franco sets his eyes on Marco. “If you think you’re taking him so you can be the one to kill him, think again. I want to kill him, Marco. He stole my niece.”

“Like you care about Gemma,” I say.

Marco hits my arm, making me wince. “Viktor, shut up.” He turns back to Franco. “I’m taking him to my place in LA. I don’t want him to escape and go after Gemma again. You can come if you want.”

Franco looks like he wants to hit Marco, but instead, he straightens and fiddles with his cuff-links. “Fine. But I get to torture him. I want him to pay for thinking he can take whatever he wants.”

I snort. “Rich, coming from you, Franco. You swooped into that family like you had a right to them, even though we all know you don’t. Am I wrong, Marco?”

Marco’s hands clench around the steering wheel. “I’m not discussing this with you. Let’s just go. Franco, you can join me or not. But I don’t agree with torture. I plan on killing Viktor after he sobers up.”

“We’ll see about that.” Franco shoots me a glare. “I’ll meet you there,” he mutters, before walking back to his car.

“You know I’m right,” I say.

“Fine. You’re right. I hate Franco almost as much as I hate you. But you’re not the one I have a deal with, so I’m going to kill you. Now, be quiet.”

Marco drives to the airport, where he has a private plane waiting for us.

“Ooh. I didn’t know we were going to LA in style.”

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