by Bella J.
For a moment, the anger that seared the inside of my veins subsided. My dad was right. Killing my brother and losing myself to anger was not going to save Layla. It wasn’t going to help anyone.
Dad glanced over his shoulder at Antonio. “Get cleaned up, then meet us back here.” He looked at Lucio. “Go get Rafe, then show him and Kate to one of the guest bedrooms. Let them settle in. Also, make sure security is doubled around them. I have a feeling Matteo’s strategy is about to change.”
My eyebrows slanted down in question. “Why do you think that?”
“Castello already has the container, and I’m pretty sure Matteo and his father will hear about it any minute now.”
Antonio spat out a mouthful of blood. “What are we going to do?”
I rubbed the top of my fist, the flesh broken and swollen. Castello said he could only help us by containing the shipment, and that the rest was up to me. It was up to me to save her. And knowing Layla had planned to give her life to save me and our son, I had no other option than to succeed. I had to. She was no longer merely the woman I loved. Turned out she was also the mother of my child, a child I had yet to get to know. But by God, I would turn the pits of hell upside down to ensure Layla would come out of this alive.
I needed a plan. I needed a way to turn the tables, to give us control. Matteo was currently under the impression he was winning. His drug-addicted pawn had returned to him. He must have been feeling invincible as if he had the all the power. But he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong. There was no way he would win this battle—not with my woman as collateral damage.
I looked up at my father. “We need one more favor from Castello.”
Chapter 19
Layla
Matteo and I didn’t speak a word on our way back to the Mancuso mansion. It made me sick to think about it. About going back.
For the last four months, I had been held there against my will—technically. None of this was my decision. I didn’t want any of this. But my forced addiction didn’t give me any choice. Matteo dangled that needle in front of my face like a goddamn carrot to a donkey. And by the victorious smirk plastered on his face the entire time, he knew he had the upper hand.
“You knew I was with him.” I didn’t look at him.
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you come for me?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Oh, my dear Layla. I knew you’d come back.” He removed a pouch from his jacket pocket. “I have what you need.”
My heart pounded against my ribs, every vein in my body swelling, craving, burning with the need for the toxin. I licked my lips as I stared at the pouch, sweat trickling down my back. The painful stomach spasms intensified, anxiety making it increasingly difficult to breathe.
I closed my eyes, my mind a battlefield of memories, faces of those I loved, and the need to make it fade to gray as the heroin took it all away.
Focus, Layla. Think of him. Your son.
I turned my head and looked out the window. “You had the perfect opportunity with Dante taking me. In fact, it was what you waited for.”
“It was. Until I realized, why go to the enemy when the enemy will come straight to me?”
I snapped my glare in his direction. “You changed your plan?”
He tsk’d, his vile tongue echoing the sound. “You really are clueless when it comes to your beloved mafia prince.” He turned in his seat to look at me straight on. “See, I knew he still carried a torch for you, but I didn’t realize he actually still loved you that much, which is great…for me.” He reached out to touch a strand of my hair, but I jerked away.
The way he stilled, his eyes morphing instantly into orbs of anger, made me anticipate a punishment. But he took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. “Everything is working out quite well. We’ll get rid of the Valentis one by one until there is no one left to stop us from building our fucking empire in this city.”
I bit my tongue. There were so many things I wanted to scream at him. So many insults I wanted to spit in his face. And if I was a stupid girl, I would have. But I’d learned not to taunt the devil, especially when you were sharing a corner in hell with him.
Matteo held out the pouch, smiling. I hated him. I hated him with everything I had in me. To me, he was the cruelest demon, and he was handing me poison like candy to a child.
For a few seconds, I wavered, wishing I had the willpower to refuse it. My soul shattered into a million pieces over and over and over again with every shot I accepted willingly—reluctantly.
Matteo’s eyes narrowed when he noticed my hesitation, and his glare made me slowly reach for the pouch, taking it from him.
It was another part of our deal. My full cooperation in feeding the addiction, which was already killing me slowly from the inside out, for the exclusion of my son in his little plan.
He smiled. “Good. As long as you keep using when told, I will stay true to my word as well. Rafe will remain unharmed and untouched by my vendetta against the Valentis.”
He thought I trusted in his word. That I would believe him when he said he would let my son be if I no longer fought the drugs. But I knew better. I knew his word meant nothing. Thank God Kate was clever enough to know what to do. The day I went to her, telling her about what was going on, she read between the lines, and she made sure Rafe could not be found by anyone.
But the tables had turned, and now I had to rely on Antonio to make sure my son was safe. The plan was for him to meet up with Lucio and Kate at an unknown—to me—location. I didn’t want to know anything in case Matteo thought he would be able to torture it out of me.
Then they would go for my son and take him back to the estate…to his father. After they were safe, Antonio would get the message to me.
As we drove through the gates of the Mancuso estate, I turned to look out the back window. The dark metal gates closed, but not before I saw the man wearing a red jacket walk past. The sign Antonio had said he would send me so I could know my son was safe.
I exhaled, my limbs numb with relief. Thank God everything had gone according to plan.
The Bentley drove up to the house. Where the Valenti mansion stayed true to the family’s Italian roots, the Mancuso mansion was built in a Victorian style. It was like they were trying too fucking hard. Three-story building with richly colored walls, intricate wood detailing, and the unique porte-cochère where the Bentley came to a stop.
The door opened, and as I was about to step out, Matteo grabbed my arm. His touch caused my gut to flip and my lungs to seize. Every inch of my body turned to ice.
“He will come for you, Layla. I’m sure of it. And once he does, I will kill him. I will avenge the death of my brother.”
I sucked in a breath. The hate in his eyes was toxic. I felt it penetrate my soul, the evil he exuded. The mere thought of Matteo killing Dante sliced like a blade down my spine, and I was sure I wouldn’t survive it. I hoped learning he had a son would make Dante refrain from doing something reckless—stop him from coming for me. But just in case there was a slight chance of Dante not cooperating, I had to make sure I executed my own plan as soon as possible.
We walked into the house, Matteo’s hand at the small of my back as if he had the right to touch me. As if he owned me. If only he knew how his touch revolted me, how much hate I felt toward him. Hell would be too a good a place for a man like him.
My skin crawled with a burning itch. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight it for much longer. The pouch I clutched in my hand was making it worse—the need. Knowing the cure for all the aches and chills was in that pouch intensified the hunger. But I needed to control it…just a little longer.
Just. A little. Longer.
“My father had some business to attend to at Boston Harbor.” Matteo grinned at me. “Which means we have this entire house to ourselves.”
I swallowed hard then glanced over my shoulder. “Your father’s bodyguards are still here.” Thank God.
Black, soulless eyes stared at me, the evil swirling around in his dark irises sending chills down my spine, waves of dread crashing against every bone. He took a step forward. “For the life of me, I have no idea why my father won’t let me have a little fun with you.” Closer and closer he moved, forcing me to take a step back. “I don’t see the difference whether I keep on desecrating your body with heroin, or just desecrate your body with my cock.”
“Matteo. Stop.” My voice was soft, too soft. It lacked confidence. Something I couldn’t afford when it came to him.
“Why should I stop, Layla? You’re practically mine already. Look how quickly you came back to me.” I shuddered when he dragged his knuckles down my cheek. “And I didn’t even have to lift a finger.”
“I came back because I had no choice,” I bit out between clenched teeth.
“You came back because you know I have what you need.” Fingertips traveled over my shoulder. “I know how to take care of you. Isn’t that why you came to me five years ago when you had nowhere to hide from your supposed lover?”
I snarled as he reminded me of how I had been deceived. “I only came to you because I made the mistake of trusting my father. I was desperate, and he said you could help me, make me disappear.”
A smug grin spread along his face. “And I did help you. Dante wasn’t able to find you.”
“But you were, and that was the only reason you helped me, so you knew where to find me when the time came.”
The smug grin turned arrogant. “See, I helped you, and I was being smart about it too.”
“What did you pay him?” I glared at him. “What did you pay my father to write that fucking letter?”
He cocked his head, his gaze sweeping from my neck, to my lips, to my eyes. “I paid him more than he would make in two lifetimes.” He licked his lips. “And it was worth every cent because now you’re mine. Mine to take care of.”
Bile crept up my throat, my chest burning with equal parts disgust and craving. “All you know how to do is destroy lives.”
“Sometimes the strong need to eliminate the weak in order to thrive.”
I almost laughed in his face. “Strong? You think you’re strong? What, by turning an innocent woman into an addict? By taking her away from her son? Are those the actions of a strong man? An honorable man?”
The corners of his lips twitched, a malicious sneer forming on his ugly motherfucking face. “Who said anything about honorable?”
Disgust filled me to the brim when he leaned closer, the vile scent of sandalwood invading my senses, causing a gagging reflex I tried my best to suppress. But everything about this man triggered the violent urge for me to vomit. His voice. His smell. His touch. His motherfucking existence. It galled me to have him so close to me, to even think that he lusted for me. I could see it in his eyes every time he looked at me. The hunger. The need.
I would rather have welcomed death with open arms than have him claim my body in such a sacred way—which was what I would have to do in the end, anyway.
His cheek rubbed against mine, the stubble of his beard scraping against my skin. “I am so sick of you hiding behind my father’s demand that you stay untouched. I’m sick of him dictating everything.”
A chill ran down my back, all the way to the soles of my feet. “Enzio was sick of it too, remember? Sick of listening to Stefano, and look what happened to him.”
Abruptly, his hand was at my throat, fingers digging painfully into my skin. “After all this time, one would think you’d have learned your place by now. But no.” His grip tightened around my neck, leaving me gasping for air. “That damn fight is still in you.” He grabbed my arm with his other hand, forcing my palm against his crotch. “You feel that?”
I whimpered.
“You feel how fucking hard you make me? It’s that fight of yours. Even if you don’t speak, I see it in your eyes.” He pressed my palm harder against him. “It makes me so fucking hard, all I can think about is bending you over and fucking you until every last ounce of fight you have inside you dies like a delicate, vulnerable, withering little flower.”
Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes as I turned to look at the bodyguards. Why weren’t they helping me? Why were they just standing there, not even looking our way?
With a tight grip around my neck, he jerked my head to face him again. The edges of his mouth curved with malicious intent. “Are you wondering why they aren’t helping you?”
I gasped, my lungs no longer expanding with air.
“You see, Layla, my father isn’t always the fucking dictator. He’s losing his ability to lead. After his own son defied him, getting killed in the process, his authority is being questioned by a lot of important people. If he can’t even control his own son—or sons,” he smirked, “how can he lead an entire family?”
He let go of my hand, only to force his between my legs. I cried through gagging and gasping, my body numb from the invasion. His lips touched my ear, and I shuddered as his warm breath slithered across my skin. “So, tell me, Layla. Tell me what the fuck is stopping me from pushing my cock so deep inside that sweet cunt of yours, fucking the last breath out of you?”
Tears trickled down my cheeks, and he pulled his hand from between my legs, wiping the tear away with his thumb. “And if you’re lucky, I’ll let your valiant mafia prince watch.”
The excitement in his hard, low voice sent a shudder of fear throughout my body. My knees threatened to give way, and all I could do was pray my life would end before he had the chance to tear my soul from my body in the most horrific way.
For a few seconds, his grip tightened to the point I thought I would pass out. Black shadows invaded my vision, my throat and chest burning as he buried his fingers deeper. Then suddenly, he let go of my throat, and I hunched over, coughing and gagging, desperate to take a decent breath. My body was weak, my legs numb. My attention turned to the pouch I still clutched in my hand. My hate for this man had outweighed my need for a hit. At that moment, I wanted to shove that needle into the skin of the son of bitch standing before me, rather than my own. It was him I wanted to poison more than myself.
I tightened my grip on the pouch, embracing the rage which consumed me little by little.
Then the sound of a phone ringing pulled me from the anger that almost made me act on impulse.
Matteo pulled the phone from his pocket, still staring at me like I was fucking dinner. I held my breath, praying to God he would answer it, that he would divert his attention away from me.
He straightened, and I exhaled.
“What?” he growled into the receiver. A few seconds later, he turned away. “Dad, what’s going on? What? How is that possible? Who the fuck would…? Yes. I’m on my way. What? Why?” He turned to look at me, and I swallowed hard. “Yes. I’ll bring her with.”
He hung up, grooves of anger forming on his forehead. My curiosity was piqued. Anything that angered Matteo had the tendency to affect me in some way or the other.
“Seems like we have someone meddling in our business.” He said it as if I had to know what the fuck he was talking about. I remained silent while he rubbed his chin, seemingly deep in thought. “I have no idea what the hell is going on, but since my father ordered me to bring you with me, that gives me the idea it has something to do with your pussy-whipped boyfriend.”
“Dante.” I breathed out his name like a prayer for my goddamn salvation.
“Yeah.” He grabbed the pouch from my hand, and instinctively I tried to get it back. But Matteo managed to grab a fistful of my hair and swung me back. My ass hit the floor just before the side of my face connected with the corner of a marble table. Pain exploded through my skull and the sound of shattering glass sliced through my ears. The crystal vase which stood on the table was now laying in pieces next to me on the floor.
“Now see what you’ve done. Fucking junkie.” Matteo held up the pouch. “You broke a two-thousand-dollar vase just because you wanted a tiny l
ittle fix.”
I cringed as I touched the broken flesh next to my eye, blood painted on my fingertips.
“Get up, you fucking cunt.” Matteo pulled me up by my hair, and I cried out in pain, my skull on fire, and the wound on my face aching and pounding like a bitch. But even through all the pain, the shock, my body still craved the heroin. My stomach clenched, and I couldn’t take a decent breath as it seemed like panic filled my lungs instead of air.
“Matteo,” I said softly, “please.”
He dangled the pouch in front of my face like a spoiled little brat. “You want this?”
All I could do was nod. “Please.”
A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I think we’ll keep this. You know, until we meet up with your prince and the rest of his royal cocksuckers. That way he can watch as you push the needle into your skin yourself.” He pulled me closer, his face inches from me. “Maybe then he’ll realize you’re no longer worth fighting for.”
My jaw clenched as I tried to bite back the tears, the heartache. Matteo was a heartless son of a bitch who thrived on the pain and suffering of others. But a part of me feared what he said would be true.
What if Dante realized I wasn’t worth it?
It doesn’t matter, because you’ll probably be dead anyway.
Fingertips which only agitated my skin more traveled down my arm before wrapping around my wrist. “Get ready, Layla. I have a feeling this war ends tonight.”
Chapter 20
Dante
Boston Harbor wasn’t a place I visited often. One thing my grandfather used to say was you never shit where you ate. Obviously something the Mancusos still had to learn.
Our shipments never came through Boston Harbor. In fact, we never used the same port twice in a row. It was always scattered around. Different ports. Different shipping lines. Different times of day or night. And different routes.
