Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

by Cora Reilly

Savio slanted a curious glance my way. “What crawled up your ass?”

  I sank down across from them. “Right this moment? You. In general? Kansas.”

  “That race is going to be spectacular,” Adamo said.

  “Don’t sound so fucking excited. You don’t really believe Remo will allow you to race again after last time, do you?” Savio muttered, throwing his feet up on the table.

  “That wasn’t my fault,” Adamo snapped.

  “Sure. When you crash a car it’s never your fault.”

  “I won’t crash this time. I’m much better. I’ll win.”

  Savio didn’t look convinced. “It’s the longest race. Eight hours minimum. That gives you plenty of time to fuck up.”

  “I won’t fuck up. And the long distance is the best part. It’s a cool layout,” Adamo said.

  “You won’t drive,” I said finally. “The race ends in Kansas City. I don’t want you that close to Outfit territory.”

  “Nobody has to know that I’m there. I’m in a car. I can use another name.”

  “No. And that’s final.”

  Adamo frowned and sank deeper into the sofa. “You promised me I could race more often if I didn’t skip school and did my Camorra duties.”

  “And that promise stands, Adamo, but not this race.”

  “But Luke will be there again with a new car. He rammed me last time. I want to kick his ass and make him crash his car.”

  I leaned forward. “You won’t go anywhere near that race, Adamo.”

  “Fine,” he mumbled. “But next race I’m allowed?”

  I nodded. I’d thought Adamo’s fascination with races would wane with time, but it hadn’t. He still lived for the occasional race, and I had started rewarding him with them for tasks well done. He was still a reluctant Made Man, but he’d improved, not just his fighting skills but also his guilt over what we did. Sometimes I wondered if I should just let him become the organizer for our races and have him race cars instead of trying to force him into another role, but we needed him. Open war with the Outfit required every Made Man we had.

  CHAPTER 25

  SERAFINA

  Dad was antsy. He kept checking his phone, which rested beside his plate. He usually didn’t have his phone on display when we had dinner. It was our family time.

  Mom brought a spoon with pureed sweet potato in an arch to Greta’s waiting mouth; she smacked her lips happily around the food. I, on the other hand, tried to stop Nevio from throwing his food around. He didn’t like being fed and preferred to shove food into his mouth by himself, but he was still too small for that and made too much of a mess. I held his small hands so he couldn’t grab the spoon and brought it to his mouth. It took three attempts before he accepted the food.

  “They are cute but watching them eat is a bit disgusting,” Sofia said, her nose wrinkled. “And since they started eating normal food as well, their diapers stink.”

  Dad frowned, obviously unhappy about the topic. He could eat dinner while someone was tortured right in front of him but a stinky diaper bothered him. Men.

  Nevio let out an indignant howl when I tried for another spoonful of puree. He jerked in his seat.

  Dad’s eyes held disapproval. Seven months, and he still couldn’t bear Nevio’s sight. At least he’d held Greta a few times, but I didn’t think he could ever look past their DNA.

  The front door banged open, and Samuel rushed into the dining room, looking ecstatic and a bit unhinged. Dad rose slowly and Samuel smiled. I shivered because there was something dark and awfully eager in my twin’s expression. “We got him,” he said. “We got the bastard.”

  “Where is he?” Dad asked, knowing exactly whom Samuel was referring to.

  I set down the spoon. Mom and I exchanged a look.

  “Danilo and I took him to our safety house as discussed.” Danilo? A horrid suspicion overcame me.

  Mom began cleaning Greta.

  Dad’s eyes moved to me, and finally Samuel turned to me as well. I approached them. “Who did you catch?”

  Samuel touched my shoulders lightly, his eyes bright, but in their depths something was lurking that scared me. “We got our hands on Adamo Falcone. He was taking part in a street race close to our borders and we caught him.”

  My insides turned to stone. “Why did you catch him?” I had a feeling I knew exactly why.

  “To torture the little pisser and send Remo a video of it like he sent us a video of you. And maybe we will send him each part of his brother that we’ll cut off, wrapped in a white ribbon.”

  “Sam, Adamo is only fifteen. He is a boy. It’s not right.”

  Samuel’s face hardened. “He is a member of the Camorra, the fucking tattoo and all. And Remo Falcone didn’t give a fuck about right and wrong when he kidnapped an innocent woman on her wedding day and tortured and raped her.”

  The color drained from my face. “It wasn’t like that,” I whispered.

  I glanced over my shoulder at my children, but Mom was already picking up Greta. I took Nevio out of the seat and handed him to her as well. She left quickly. I turned back to Samuel, shaking because he’d said a name I hadn’t heard in a while. I still felt incredibly guilty because my family didn’t understand that Remo hadn’t forced me, didn’t understand that he had only taken what I had given.

  Dad stepped up beside Samuel. He still had a hard time meeting my gaze when this topic was addressed, too ashamed for not having been able to protect me. “Your brother is right. The Falcones get what they deserve. We will destroy their crazy family like they destroyed ours.”

  I swallowed. That’s what he thought? That our family was destroyed? I saw it every time he looked at my children and his expression flashed with guilt and disgust.

  “Remo won’t stand back and let you torture his brother. He won’t care about the danger. He will walk into our city and tear everything down that’s in his way.”

  Samuel dropped his hand, face twisting with self-hatred. “Like we should have marched into Vegas and saved you.”

  Dad ran a hand through his hair. “You know we couldn’t. Remo would have killed Fina the second we got close. We were lucky he didn’t do so when you went there on your own. We couldn’t risk it after that.”

  Remo would have never killed me, but they didn’t know that, couldn’t possibly understand, and how could I ever explain to them when I didn’t understand it myself?

  “Instead we sat back and waited for him to make demands while he was busy forcing himself on her and getting her pregnant.”

  “I’m here! Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

  “Sorry, dove,” Dad said with a sigh. My heart fluttered. He seldom called me ‘dove’ anymore, not because he loved me less but because he felt responsible for my broken wings.

  “I’m not blaming either of you,” I said firmly, looking first at my father then at Samuel. “But I know Remo and he will do anything to save his brother. Anything.”

  “We will see. We’re going to do a live recording for the fucker today. He can watch his brother getting tortured live on the Darknet.” Samuel grinned.

  I took a step back. “You’re joking.”

  “No,” Samuel said. “I only came to pick up Dad. Danilo is already preparing everything, and Dante is supposed to arrive any moment as well.”

  “You planned this?”

  “Not Adamo, no,” Samuel said. “We wanted to attack the race. It was pure luck that the little bastard enjoys racing cars.”

  Dad nodded. “We should leave now. Let’s go.”

  I gripped Samuel’s arm. “Let me go with you.”

  He exchanged a look with Dad who said, “No, dove. That’s nothing you should see.”

  “Why not? I’ve been a captive of the Camorra for months. Do you really think torture or blood still bother me? Do you think anything can bring me to my knees anymore? I’m not the innocent girl of the past. I have a right to be there. I was the one they kidnapped. You owe it to me to let me go with
you.”

  They both stared at me like I’d punched them, and I felt a flicker of guilt, but playing the guilt card was my only chance to convince them, and I needed to see Adamo.

  Dad closed his eyes briefly then gave a small nod. “Come on.”

  He went ahead. Samuel wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. “We will make them pay for what they did to you. Remo will regret the day he laid a finger on you.”

  I averted my eyes and followed Samuel out of our house, a place that felt less like home every day. Every day that Nevio looked more like his father.

  The house they took me to was a shabby three-story building close to the tracks, located in the industrial part of Minneapolis. When we stepped inside, my eyes registered Danilo first. He had his arms crossed and was staring at a screen on a table against one wall. Beside him stood my uncle Dante, as usual dressed in a suit, but his jacket was already slung over a chair that sat in front of the screen, and he had rolled up his sleeves.

  My stomach turned. I’d never seen him with rolled up sleeves, and I knew why. I had never been around when he’d tortured someone. There was another man, one of Dad’s soldiers, who was working at a laptop, probably establishing the Darknet connection. They turned when we entered, and all eyes zeroed in on me. I wasn’t supposed to be here.

  Dante frowned and came toward us. Danilo stayed where he was, but he, too, watched me. I wasn’t his fiancé anymore. I was nothing to him. My sister was promised to him, and now she was as precious as I had been. And yet he would be part in the Outfit’s revenge because Remo had insulted Danilo in the worst way possible: he had taken me from him.

  Dante stopped before us, his cool eyes resting on me. “Serafina, this is Outfit business. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “It is my business, Uncle. The Falcones held me captive.” I met his gaze head-on. After months in Remo’s company, I didn’t feel the urge to lower my gaze despite my uncle’s own scary vibe, especially today. There was something predator-like about him, about them all. Eager to tear into their victim, to hear its screams and taste its blood.

  He inclined his head. “It will be brutal and bloody. You are free to watch on the screen.”

  He turned and walked back to Danilo, followed by Dad. Samuel squeezed my shoulder. “If it’s too much, go sit there.” He pointed at a sofa behind the table with the screen. “You shouldn’t leave the building. I don’t want you outside without me or Dad.”

  I nodded. Samuel released me and joined the other men. Slowly, I moved closer and when I reached the table, I caught sight of the screen. My breath caught in my throat. It showed Adamo in an empty room, bound to a chair, his head hanging down.

  “Ready?” Dante asked. Danilo, Dad, and Samuel nodded. Dante turned to the man at the screen. “Are we live?”

  “All set. The camera in the torture room is sending.”

  “Good,” Dante said coldly. With a last glance at me, the men disappeared through a door. A few minutes later they appeared on the screen, entering the room. I sank down on the chair beside my father’s soldier, who gave me a quick curious glance. I could imagine what he thought, what they all thought. Since I had been kidnapped, I was only known as the woman Remo Falcone sullied. The broken one.

  Samuel held something under Adamo’s nose so he jerked upright, eyes flying up in shock. He had changed since I’d last seen him. His face had become harder, older, and he had grown and become more muscular. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and a few scars littered his chest but not nearly as many as Remo had. The distant resemblance to Remo sent a stab through my heart.

  Adamo’s gaze wandered over my dad, Samuel, Danilo, and Dante, and for a second fear flashed across his face. Then he controlled his features.

  Dante stepped forward, and the look on his face sent a chill down my spine. “Adamo Falcone. Welcome to Outfit territory.”

  Adamo smiled bitterly. “I would have won the race if you hadn’t shot out my tires.”

  My eyes grew wide. Provoking my family in a situation like that was madness.

  Dante’s expression became harder. Samuel had already taken his knife out, and Danilo looked ready to plunge his dagger into Adamo as well. Only Dad remained back. He was a restrained man but his stance was off.

  “You share the same arrogant disposition as your brother Remo, I see,” Dante said pleasantly. “It’s only fair that he gets to watch you pay for his sins.”

  Adamo shook his head. “No matter what you do, Remo won’t care. Remo is crueler than all of you combined.”

  Dante tilted his head. “We will see.” He took a knife from a table to the side and moved back toward Adamo, who tensed and leaned back. Dante reached down and cut Adamo’s right arm loose.

  Confusion drew my brows together. Dante grabbed Adamo’s arm and turned it over, displaying the Camorra tattoo. “How long have you been a Made Man?”

  “One year and four months,” Adamo muttered, glaring up at my uncle.

  “You will be judged as a Made Man, not a boy, Adamo Falcone.”

  Adamo grimaced. “I don’t give a shit about all this. Do what you have to do. It won’t change a thing.”

  Dante stepped back and gestured at the other men. “Who wants to go first? You are the ones who are closer to Serafina.”

  Adamo winced and looked at Samuel, who took a step forward. “I want to go first.”

  Tears stung in my eyes. Please don’t, Sam.

  Samuel moved toward Adamo and punched him hard. Adamo’s head fell back, blood spraying out of his nose as it broke. I rose slowly from my chair, ignoring the stare from the man beside me. Samuel brought his knife down on Adamo’s stomach and left a long cut. Adamo cried and lashed out with his free hand, but Samuel grabbed it and twisted the hand back, breaking it. I took a step back, my hand covering my mouth. I had never seen Samuel like this. I knew what he was, what they all were. This wasn’t right. I had to stop them somehow.

  “See, Remo, your brother will bleed in your stead. We’ll tear him apart piece by piece for what you did to my sister. He will suffer for you,” Samuel snarled. In that moment, little of my twin was left. A Made Man, a monster. Just because I never saw his monstrous side didn’t mean Samuel was less of a monster than any other of the men in our world.

  Dad pushed away from the wall, gripped Adamo’s free arm, and jerked it back with a sickening crunch. He had a look on his face I had never seen. Adamo’s screams blared through the speakers, and I began running.

  Adamo didn’t deserve this. And with their actions, they would make everything worse because Remo would seek retribution. He would attack viciously, would maim and kill, would leave nothing in his wake, and whatever the outcome, I would lose someone I cared about. Either my family members or the father of my children.

  I followed the screams to the last door and burst through it then froze as the smell of burning flesh filled my nose. Adamo was screaming as Danilo was holding a lighter to his forearm, burning away the Camorra tattoo.

  “Enough!” I cried. I stormed forward and pushed him aside before either of them could grab me. Danilo’s eyes flashed with fury, and all the men stared at me. “Enough!” I screamed. “Enough!”

  Adamo groaned and I turned to him, kneeling before him. Only a small part of his tattoo had been burned away, and the skin was blistered and red. I touched his shoulder and he flinched. “Adamo,” I whispered.

  He raised his head a few inches, teary eyes meeting mine. A weak smile pulled at his lips. “Serafina.” How he could still sound friendly after what had been done to him was a mystery to me.

  A shadow fell over me and I looked up. Samuel. “Fina, you should leave. He gets what he deserves.”

  “He is a boy,” I said. “And he always treated me with kindness.”

  “He is a Falcone,” Danilo said, stepping forward with the lighter still in his hand. His eyes were hard and merciless. “You were punished for something Outfit soldiers did. Adamo will pay for something his brother did.”

 
; “I suffered for your sins,” I spat at them. “And he suffers for Remo’s. I’m sick of it. This ends here. Adamo won’t suffer any more pain under your hands.”

  “That isn’t your call to make,” Dante said firmly.

  I looked back at Adamo, who looked resigned and had begun shaking. A phone rang and Dante picked it up. “Remo.”

  I jerked, my eyes widening.

  REMO

  Kiara was asleep with her head in Nino’s lap. It was early afternoon, so I didn’t understand how she could be tired. Maybe Nino kept her awake all night. I frowned then drew my gaze back to the screen where the race was playing out. The number of participants was staggering. They had to start from different spots, all the same distance from Kansas City, to divert the attention of the police. A few of them would be arrested like usual, but that was part of the game. Eventually the different routes would merge to one for the last 100 miles before the end.

  Car racing brought in good money, but I didn’t really care for it. I preferred cage fighting.

  Savio ate another bite of the cake Kiara had baked. “Do you think Adamo has a crush on that whore?”

  “C.J.,” Nino said.

  “Whatever. He’s been in the Sugar Trap an awful lot. They’re definitely fucking. And come on, he spent the night with her again. What is he doing with her? Cuddling? He can’t fuck her for hours. I’m surprised he gets one up at all. If he had to pay for her, he’d be broke by now.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t care if Adamo fucked a whore or not. I’d never seen him talk to any of the other whores, though. It worried me, not to mention that it wasn’t the first night he’d spent with the whore at the Sugar Trap. Fucking her was okay, but spending so much time with her could definitely prove to be a problem.

  “Trust Adamo to fall in love with a whore and be monogamous when she’s got about a dozen dicks up her pussy every day,” Savio said.

  Nino made an impatient sound, obviously keen on watching the race in peace. One of the participants was currently being chased by three police cars. Bets if the fucker managed to escape or not were probably burying us already.