Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

by Cora Reilly

  Remo lifted his head, and my brother and Danilo tightened their hold, but they blended into the background when Remo’s eyes finally met mine. Fourteen months.

  The force of his gaze hit me like a tidal wave. In the time since he’d released me, I’d often wondered if I could ever forget him, if I could move on and live a new life, but now as I looked at him, I realized I had been foolish to consider that an option.

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a twisted smile. “Angel.”

  My brother punched Remo’s face, but he only laughed darkly as blood spattered on the ground.

  “This is your chance to ask for forgiveness,” Dad said.

  Remo looked from each of them until his eyes finally settled on me. “Do you want me to beg for forgiveness?”

  His eyes dragged me down fiercely, mercilessly, irrevocably as they’d always done. As they always would. “I won’t give you my forgiveness,” I said quietly.

  Something flickered in Remo’s eyes, but Samuel and Danilo wrenched him away from my view, down the corridor into their torture chamber.

  Dad kissed my temple. “We will avenge you, make him pay for what he did.”

  He walked away, leaving me with Dante, who regarded me with calm scrutiny. He touched my shoulder lightly, and I met his gaze. “He will ask for forgiveness in the end,” he promised.

  I briefly touched his hand. “I don’t want him to because it would be false.”

  Remo did everything with unbridled passion, with ferocious rage, without an ounce of regret.

  He consumed, obliterated, ruined.

  He took everything and left nothing in his wake. He was an unrepentant sinner. He was a destroyer, a murderer, a torturer.

  A monster.

  The father of my children.

  The man who held my heart in his cruel, brutal hand.

  “You will castrate him?” It was an unnecessary question. I knew they would, and it was only one of the many atrocities they’d planned. All I needed to know was when.

  Dante gave a terse nod. “Tomorrow. Not today. It would speed up his death too much. Danilo and Samuel will do it. I’m not sure you should watch any of this, but maybe you need to. Today will be easier to stomach than tomorrow, so stay if it’s what you want.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered. Slowly I made my way toward the screen on the table and turned it on.

  My brother and Danilo were kicking Remo in the stomach, in the side, and Remo made no move to defend himself. When they finally let up, because Dante had entered, Remo rolled onto his back and looked directly into the camera, knowing I was watching.

  He didn’t look away when my father took out his knife and cut his chest. Not when it was Samuel’s turn. Not when it was Danilo’s turn. Not when it was Dante’s turn.

  I’d spent so many hours, day and night, wondering how it would feel to see Remo broken, to see him on his knees.

  This wasn’t how I imagined things to be, my heart clenching in my chest so tightly I could hardly breathe, the tears pressing against my eyelids so fiercely I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold them back. And even through the torture, Remo didn’t look broken because he couldn’t be broken, not with violence and pain. Maybe not at all.

  I turned away from the screen and walked away. My bodyguards followed close behind, their steps slow and measured. Shadows meant to protect and save me. But I was beyond saving. My family tried to mend me, but I didn’t need it because I wasn’t broken.

  Slipping behind the steering wheel of the Mercedes limousine, I revved the engine the second my bodyguards were inside. My foot pressed down on the gas. They slanted looks my way but didn’t comment. They were meant to protect not judge.

  I was allowed this freedom because my family’s guilt had paid for it. They couldn’t bear keeping the dove with broken wings in a gilded cage.

  The second I had the car parked in front of my family’s home, I killed the engine and got out, not waiting for them. I stepped inside and hurried upstairs, didn’t stop until I entered the nursery. Both Nevio and Greta were asleep in their shared crib, looking peaceful and painstakingly beautiful.

  I stroked their heads, the thick black hair like their father’s. When my fingers brushed Nevio’s temple, his eyes peeled open with those dark brown, almost black eyes. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead then to Greta’s, breathed in their scent, then sank down in a chair and watched them sleep.

  I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that when the door opened. Familiar steps sounded behind me, steps that had accompanied me almost all my life. A warm hand came down on my shoulder, and I covered it with mine.

  Samuel pressed a kiss to the crown of my head then rested his forehead against it for a couple of moments. So gentle and caring, so very different from the man I’d seen torturing Remo. He straightened and I tilted my head back, peering up at him. His gaze rested on Greta and Nevio, but for him there was nothing beautiful about them. As always, his eyes shone with guilt and aversion when he regarded them before he noticed my scrutiny and lowered his gaze to me.

  Warmth filled his expression. I wished he could spare some of it for the children I loved more than life itself. Samuel was my blood. He would always be. He was part of me as I was part of him, and I didn’t resent him for his feelings toward my children. I knew he hated their father, not them, but more than that he hated himself.

  I stood, grabbed his neck, and pulled him down until his forehead rested against mine. “Please, Sam, stop blaming yourself. Please, I beg you. I’m not broken. You have no reason to feel guilty.”

  He returned my gaze but I realized his guilt ran too deep. Maybe tomorrow he’d finally be free. Maybe he could let go of his guilt when he had to let go of me. “I love you,” I said, knowing it was the last time.

  Samuel wrapped his arms around me. “And I love you, Fina.”

  CHAPTER 27

  SERAFINA

  Dad and Dante didn’t come home that evening. They would spend the night in the safe house. Safe house. What a name for a house to torture enemies.

  After Samuel had made sure I was okay, he drove back there as well. Maybe they were worried Remo might manage to escape or maybe they wanted to keep torturing him throughout the night. Probably the latter.

  I grabbed a bag and packed a few things for Greta and Nevio. Then I walked down into the basement where we kept our weapons as well as other necessities in case of an attack. I perused the display of guns and knives. I strapped a gun holster to my chest over my T-shirt. It allowed me to strap a gun and a knife to my sides as well as another gun to my back. Just to be on the safe side, I added a knife holster to my calf. I had chosen loose linen pants for the occasion just for that purpose. After that I rummaged through the medical supplies. Samuel had explained everything to me so I was prepared if something happened, not so I could use it against them. I grabbed a syringe with adrenaline and one with a sedative. After I’d put on my thick cardigan, I stuffed the syringes into its pockets and returned upstairs.

  It was quiet in the house. Sofia was probably reading in her room before bed, and Mom was most likely doing the same.

  The bodyguards were in their quarters in the back of the house, and two were guarding the fence surrounding the garden. I put on comfortable sneakers then headed for the nursery.

  I considered going to my mother, saying goodbye, apologizing for what I was about to do, but words would never be enough to explain my betrayal. Words were too insignificant. They would never understand. I’d try to call her later, once we were safe.

  Lifting the bag over one shoulder, I grabbed Nevio and Greta before I made my way out of the nursery, moving quietly.

  I froze when I spotted Sofia standing in her doorway in her pink nightgown, brown hair disheveled. Her eyes took in everything and a small frown drew her brows together. “Where are you going?”

  I considered what to tell her, how to explain to a twelve-year-old what I had done and was about to do. “I’m leaving. I have to.”<
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  Sofia’s eyes widened, and she padded toward me with bare feet. “Because of Greta and Nevio?”

  I nodded. She was young but she wasn’t as oblivious as we all wanted to believe. She stopped right in front of me. “You’re leaving us.”

  I swallowed hard. “I have to, ladybug. For my babies. I want them to be safe and happy. I need to protect them from the whispers.”

  Sofia regarded my twins. She leaned forward and kissed each of them on the cheek, her eyes filling with tears as she peered up at me. My heart clenched tightly. “I know what people say about them, and I hate it. But I don’t want you to go ...” Her voice broke.

  “I know.” I tried to hold back my emotions. “Give me a hug.”

  She wrapped her arms around me and the twins, and we remained like that for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone, please.”

  She pulled back with a knowing look. “You’re going to return to their father?”

  I nodded, a half-truth, but Sofia didn’t need to know that our family and her future husband were currently torturing the man she was referring to.

  “Do you love him?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. Sofia looked confused for a moment, but then she nodded, biting her lip, more tears gathering in her eyes. “Dad won’t allow me to see you anymore, will he?”

  I swallowed. “I hope one day he’ll understand.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too. I’ll try to contact you. Remember I love you.”

  She nodded, tears trailing down her cheeks. I quickly turned before I lost it. I could feel Sofia’s eyes on me as I walked downstairs. The light from upstairs illuminated my path as I headed into the garage. I put Nevio and Greta into their car seats then slipped behind the steering wheel. The guns were digging uncomfortably into my back and side. The garage door slid up, and I pulled out and steered the car down the long driveway. I pressed the button for the gate and it opened.

  A guard stepped in front of the gate, and I had to pull to a stop or run him over.

  The windows were tinted, so he couldn’t see the kids on the backseat. I let down the window a gap.

  “Miss Mione, nobody informed us you’d be leaving.”

  “I’m informing you now,” I said firmly.

  He frowned. “I’ll have to ask the boss.”

  I scowled. “Get out of my way. I’m driving over to the safe house to kill the man who raped and tortured me.”

  His eyes grew wide, and he lowered his gaze, the shame of all Outfit soldiers reflecting clearly on his face. “I’ll have to make a quick call.”

  He lifted his phone to his ear, and I considered hitting the gas. He lowered the phone, touched the screen again then lifted it once more. “Samuel, I can’t reach your father. Your sister is at the gate, trying to leave.”

  He held the phone out to me. I took it with a glare.

  “Fina, what’s going on?”

  “Tell him to let me leave.”

  “Fina.”

  “I’m coming over. I need to ... I need to see what you’re doing. You owe it to me, Sam.”

  Guilt sliced through me, but I shoved it back.

  “You should take a bodyguard with you.”

  “Sam,” I whispered harshly. “Let me leave. Do you want me to beg? I’ve done enough of that, trust me.” A lie, one I’d never wanted to use on Samuel.

  He sighed. “Okay. But right now we’re not doing anything. Dad, Danilo, and Dante are catching some shut-eye. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Let them sleep for now. They don’t need to know I’m coming over yet. You know how Dad can be.”

  I handed the phone back to the guard and after an order from my brother, he finally let me through.

  Samuel was waiting for me outside the safe house when I pulled up. I programmed the heating so it would keep the car warm for my babies before I exited. Samuel regarded me with a deep frown. He was wearing a different shirt than last time I saw him, and as I got closer, I noticed the red under his fingernails. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and for a moment I tensed because I worried he could feel the holster, but his arm was too high up and my cardigan too thick. He led me inside. My eyes searched the main area.

  “They’re in the sleep area upstairs. Do you want me to wake them?”

  “No,” I said quickly. My eyes were drawn to the screen. It showed Remo lying on the floor, not moving. I tried to gauge the angle. Samuel followed my gaze. “We’ll continue in about an hour.”

  I raised my eyes to his. Dark shadows spread under his eyes. “You look like you should get some sleep.”

  “Someone’s got to keep watch.”

  “He doesn’t look like he can do anything.”

  Samuel’s lips curled. “He’s a tough fucker.” His expression softened. “But we’ll get him to beg. At some point, even he will break.”

  I doubted it but we’d never find out. “Do you have something to drink for me?”

  Samuel nodded and walked over to the table in the corner. I took out the syringe before I followed him. “Water okay?” he asked as I stopped close beside him.

  I touched his chest. “I’m sorry, Sam.” His brows snapped together in confusion, and I shoved the needle into his thigh.

  Sam jerked. “Fina? What?” But he was already staggering, his eyelids drooping. I clung to him, trying to stop him from falling and injuring himself, but he was too heavy. He sank to the ground. His eyes began to lose focus. I bent over him and kissed his forehead. “I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

  I stepped into the torture room, my eyes landing on Remo. He was sprawled out on the floor, lying in his own blood, naked except for black briefs, his arms and legs tied to hooks in the ground with rope. Bruises and cuts littered almost every inch of him. On the table to the right, I could see torture tools. The knives covered in blood, but some of the others were still pristine and untouched, waiting for their purpose.

  Remo’s eyes peeled open in his blood-covered face, and they knocked the breath out of me again.

  A dark smile twisted his mouth, but there was an emotion in his eyes that tightened my stomach. “Angel, have you come to watch your family cut off my dick? I hear that’s scheduled for today.”

  I crept closer to him, my sneakers trudging through his blood covering the rough floor. My steps didn’t falter. Blood did nothing to me. Not anymore.

  Remo regarded me quietly. His eyes slid down my arm to the tip of the knife peeking out from my long cardigan sleeve. “Or have you come to do it yourself?”

  I stopped right above Remo. Even though he was on his back, cut and bruised, covered in his own blood, he appeared powerful. Remo couldn’t be broken because he didn’t fear pain or death.

  Was this love? Or madness?

  I sank down to my knees beside him, kneeling on the sticky floor, my white linen pants soaking up the blood greedily. My pants soon stuck to my skin with Remo’s blood. “No,” I whispered, finally answering him.

  Remo’s eyes traced my face. He looked almost at peace. “To kill me?”

  I tilted my head, regarding him. Remo was Nevio. Nevio was Remo. As if they had been carved from the same template. My children were the spitting image of their father. Even if I didn’t have feelings for the man before me, I could never kill him because the faces of Greta and Nevio would remind me of him every day of my life.

  “I always thought it was meant to be that way. Your hand ending my life.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t kill you.” I leaned over Remo, my fingers spreading through his blood on the ground, my hair dipping in it. So much blood.

  “You didn’t marry Danilo,” Remo murmured.

  “How could I?” I whispered, bending low until Remo and I were almost touching. “How could I marry him when I was pregnant with your children?”

  Remo stiffened. I’d wondered how he would react if I ever told him about Greta and Nevio, but nothing came close to the look on his fac
e. Complete and utter shock, and more than that ... wonder.

  “When you gave me up, I carried your babies in me, Remo. You gave us up.”

  “I thought you’d return to me,” he rasped.

  “You pushed me away.”

  “I set you free.”

  “I wasn’t free,” I hissed. How could I ever be free when his name was etched into my heart?

  “You were pregnant,” he said quietly.

  “I was pregnant, a living breathing reminder of the greatest failure of the Outfit, a living breathing reminder of something dark and shameful. A reminder that you took something from the Outfit, took something from me. That’s what everyone thought. My family and everyone else in the Outfit. I knew giving birth to a child of yours would ruin any chance I had to find my way back into the Outfit, back into my family. I knew I’d seal my fate if I had your child. I’d be damned to live a life of pity stares and disgusted expressions.”

  Something flickered in Remo’s eyes. Dread, maybe even fear. “You got rid of the babies.” And his voice wavered ever so slightly.

  A cruel, unbreakable man.

  My nemesis, my captor, the man who took everything from me and without knowing it gave me the greatest gift of all.

  I’d always wondered what it would take to break Remo, and I realized I held the power to do it, to crush the cruelest, strongest man I knew in my hand, held it on the tip of my tongue. One word would shatter him. The knowledge filled me with unparalleled joy, not because I could break the man before me. No, because our children even without knowing them meant so much to him that their death would destroy him.

  “Oh, Angel, have they sent you to deliver the ultimate blow? Tell Dante he wins.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said quietly, then fiercer, “No. I didn’t get rid of the babies even though everyone wanted me to do it.”

  Remo held my gaze.

  “How could I get rid of the most beautiful creation I can imagine? Greta and Nevio are pure perfection, Remo.”

  He exhaled, and the look in his eyes ... God, that look. This cruel man had stolen my heart, and I had let him.