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The kind thing to do would be to put the bastard out of his misery.

End his life.

I’m not generous.

I’m a savage.

“I’m not telling you a damned thing,” Matteo says and spits in my face.

I move out of the way, but his spit lands on my shirt.

Fucking asshole.

He laughs.

The darkness invades my soul.

I slam my fist against his face and across his nose. I can feel the bones break and hear the crunch that sends a shudder down my spine.

I swallow the disgust and anger. The revolting vileness that seeps out from this man and onto me.

He’s given me no choice but to be this way, to torture him until he’s executed.

“You threaten my family. You can expect to pay the price,” I say.

His head hangs low, and blood drips from his nose onto the cement floor, puddling below.

“I have nothing,” Matteo says. He glances up with darkened eyes and a sinister smile. “Nothing to lose.”

“I suppose your life is pretty worthless.” I agree. It doesn’t mean I intend to spare him pain or suffering. “Tell me what Dorian is planning. He shouldn’t give a damn about who I marry. Etta and I ended things months ago.”

For years we’d been on-again and off-again with some semblance of a relationship. It was purely physical. Sexual. And she had a wandering eye in the end, which made me cut all ties to her and end any idea of a relationship or marriage between us.

“Dorian wants to mend the girl’s broken heart,” Matteo says.

Yeah, I don’t buy that for a second.

“Dorian only cares about himself.” If he cared about anyone else, he’d have sent men after us to retrieve Matteo.

Instead, Matteo is being sacrificed. The Bianchi’s aren’t coming to save him. Even if they wanted to, we’re in a fortress guarded by dozens of men with guns. They’re not getting inside.

“True,” Matteo says, his voice gravelly and weak.

I don’t fall for his routine, the one where he pretends to be near death and in agony, only to fight back. I’ve seen it time and time again amongst cowards.

“He does want you dead. You, Alessandro, the entire family.”

I pull up a spare wooden chair and flip it around to sit, my arms folded across the top. “That’s not news. Our families have been feuding for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid. You have to give me more than that, Matteo. You’re not Dorian’s second without knowing what’s going on inside his head. If you don’t value your own life, maybe you value your family?” I ask.

Silence encompasses the room.

“Nothing?” I tsk and shake my head. “That’s a shame. I was hoping we could put the torture behind us and move straight to your untimely death.”

Matteo’s eyes flash up at me as he winces. “You won’t kill me.”

“Won’t I?” What makes him so sure that I’ll let him leave? He was there yesterday, threatening my family with Dorian and on Dorian’s orders.

“You’ll start a war between our families.”


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