The first two buttons of the shirt are unbuttoned, revealing the top half of his firm chest. He’s wearing a gold necklace with the crucifix hanging on the end.
Finally, I lock on his face. His chin is strong, jaw chiseled with light scruff; his full, pink lips are sculpted to perfection. His nose is straight, with a sharp angle and those eyes…
Those thin, dark-brown eyes are so hard to see through, yet they’ve ensnared me. I try to pull my vision away, but I can’t. I’m stuck…and I don’t know why.
I should hate this man—hate his face and how he stands much taller than the rest of the men with his lean, athletic build—but I can’t seem to form hate while looking at him.
If I look away, though, I know I will hate him all over again.
He studies the cell very carefully, taking note of every small detail, but then he focuses on me. I know he can’t really see me. It’s not as bright in here as it once was.
“Abrela,” he commands, accent heavy. Open it.
Axe Man steps forward to unlock the door. As soon as he does, he walks my way with heavy steps, grabs my arm, and yanks me up. He starts dragging me towards the boss, but I yank away before he can pull me out.
“Get off of me,” I snarl, backing away.
Axe Man puts his eyes on me, grabbing my arm again and then slapping me with the back of his hand. “Stop fucking moving!”
“Calm the fuck down,” the boss snaps, looking right at Axe Man.
Axe Man looks at the boss and pulls away from me. When he drops his hand, I snatch out the pocket knife, fling it open so that the blade is pointed at him, and then charge forward, screaming as I stab him right below the ribs.
He hollers out in pain, grabbing his side. The blade is jammed deep. Blood spills out, dripping down the handle of the knife and onto my fingers. I release it, staring at the pig, panting deep.
Two of the men behind the boss curse and then rush for me, dragging my body towards him. One of them has his hand clutched around the back of my neck. The other has my arms. My nostrils flare as I breathe unevenly, prepared for whatever is to follow.
The boss’s demeanor hasn’t changed. He isn’t frowning or smiling. He isn’t shocked or pleased. His face is just…blank. It reveals nothing whatsoever and for a split second, I think I’m fucked.
He steps towards me, narrowing his eyes. My dark hair has tumbled all over my face, covering me up. I can see him through the strands, clearly enough to know he’s agitated.
“Why the fuck would you do that to one of my men, right in front of me?”
I don’t respond to him. I’m too angry. Too heated.
He tilts my chin up so I can look at him fully. My hair slides back, and our eyes lock.
When he sees me, looks into my eyes, that’s when his expression changes. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t say a thing. His blank stare turns into one full of disbelief.
What the hell is he thinking?
This isn’t the way I was expecting him to react at all. He seems…surprised to actually see me. As I stare back, I do find him familiar, but not familiar enough to ring a bell.
I feel like I’ve seen him before, but of course being in a cell for six days, being starved and dehydrated, can make one delusional.
Perhaps I was building up the idea of him so much that I felt like I knew him already.
“What the hell is her name?” he calls over his shoulder, still staring.
“We…don’t know her first name, Jefe,” the white-haired man responds in his native tongue.
“What is your fucking name?” he asks me in English, his voice gravelly.
“Gianna Nicotera,” I spit at him. I know my father’s name holds weight. I used to be afraid to share it, but if this man knew Toni, then he has to know who my father was.
His jaw clenches, and he finally snatches his eyes away from mine, stepping towards the white-haired man.
“She’s a fucking Nicotera? Toni’s new fucking wife is Gianna fucking Nicotera? Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me this shit?!”
“Because we didn’t know, boss. We thought she was just Ricci or some bitch he found.”
“Oh, you didn’t know?” He leans back, as if he’s truly asking them this question. “So no one thought about doing a little research before bringing her onto my fucking property, huh?” He looks around as if someone will answer. “No? No one bothered?” He holds his hands out, leaving the question up in the air. They all remain tightlipped and still. “All right, then.”
He smashes his lips together and strolls into the cell. He walks in leisurely, but as he does he’s pulling something out of the pocket of his crisp, black shirt. He then turns at an angle.