Page 24 of Ruthless

I have tohelpDante remember the man he used to be.

There won’t be a chance to escape. He has too many men, and he’s watching me too closely. Besides Jeremy, Angela is the only person I really have a relationship with, and she’s just as much of a prisoner as I am. Plus, I still don’t know if I can fully trust her. Or anyone for that matter. The only person I can depend on is myself.

I need to find a way out of this mess, and the only idea I have is bringing back the old Dante. Because the Dante I knew would never do this to me, and his love for Pistol gives me hope that a shred of that man still exists. Earning his trust and forgiveness may be the only way I extricate myself from this alive, without endangering Jeremy.

Even though I still don’t understand what sin I committed to require forgiveness in the first place.

Not that the reasoning matters at this point. Not after the awful way he’s been treating me. But when morning comes and Angela enters the cell with breakfast and a new pair of underwear folded neatly on the tray next to hot oatmeal and a toothbrush, I start to wonder if Jeremy is theonlyreason I want to unearth the man I once knew.

Chapter 8

Dante

My fist drives forward with enough force to rocket the heavy Muay Thai bag backward. Marco, unwillingly tasked with holding it steady for this Wednesday’s sparring session, winces.

He braces the bag for my next strike, but my combo sends him stumbling anyway.

My brother steps back with a curse and shakes his head. “Look, I’m just going to say it. At this point, therapy would be cheaper than whatever the fuck it is you’re doing right now.” A few years younger than me, Marco Argento is everything I’m not. A ladies’ man known for his charm and easy humor, he’s left a string of broken hearts all over New York.

With his pitch-black hair and olive eyes, he resembles our mother, Dulce, the most. Though broad-shouldered and muscular, he takes his job as underboss for the Argento family about as seriously as if he were the pity hire at the local Dairy Queen. Since he won’t commit to anything else, I try to make the most of our weekly meetups at his gym, The Swarmer.

Even though he’s as integral to the organization as I am, Marco keeps his participation to a minimum. Sometimes I envy his ability to say, “Fuck it,” and disappear. Most days, I wishI could do the same, but too much rides on my keeping the Argentos going.

I throw another punch, sweat trickling down my temple. “Go screw yourself.”

I wince at my own venom, but Marco doesn’t get offended. Entering into an argument with him won’t help anything, so I pause long enough to reign in my temper and try to remember how to act normal. To wear the mask again. The morning after a nightmare is always harder. I wake up confused, with my brain convinced me I’m still trapped in the dark. That I never left at all. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Those first few minutes are the worst because the fear is as fresh as it once was. Even the pain still bites. Boxing with Marco is a much-needed change of pace and puts me firmly back in control of my own body.

When I finally escaped my torturers and found my way home, Marco was the first to rush to my side. He saw how bloody and bruised I was, how those fuckers had utterly torn me apart. What he didn’t know was just how deep my wounds ran. So deep that I still can’t talk about them. Even with him.

No one can know how weak I’ve become, least of all my brother. Like so many others, he looks to me as the real head of the Argento family. An underboss can’t afford to be crippled by anxiety. If the other families think I’ve lost my edge, they’ll eat us alive.

Marco eyes me as he wipes his face with a towel. “Is it Sara?”

I freeze at her name and shoot my brother a glare. He’s annoyingly shrewd when sober. “How did you know?”

Marco rolls his eyes, sitting on the edge of the ring while he watches me work out the kink in my shoulder. “Everyone knows.” Grabbing his water bottle, he swigs a few mouthfuls. “Well. Not everyone. Rumor is you took a nurse hostage, and I just put two and two together.”

My brother is the only one I’ve ever talked to about Sara. The only one who understands what she used to mean to me and how much I was once willing to give up to live in her world. If I didn’t trust him implicitly, I might have thoughtheinformed the Council about Sara and me. But Marco’s not capable of that kind of betrayal. He might be a fuck-up, but he’s loyal to a fault.

“No. It’s not about her.” Though I turn away, he still spots the lie. “Mind your own business.”

Scrunching his nose, Marco throws up his hands in surrender. “Che palle, forgive me for wondering why your ex is locked up in your townhome.” He pauses, his demeanor shifting to something dangerous and cold rather than playful. “You sure you don’t want me to come take care of her for you?” His hand flexes at his side, and I know if he had his knife, he’d be absent-mindedly flipping it end over end.

He’s insane if he thinks I’d let him anywhere near her, brother or not.

Determined to maintain a light mood, I smile when inside all I want to do is snap at him for the ridiculous offer. “You sure you don’t want to go another couple of rounds with me?” I crack my knuckles for effect.

Marco scoffs before backing down without complaint. “I’m good.”

Satisfied that the threat will shut him up for now, I hit the showers and wash off. Afterward, I pack up my gym bag and toss it into the Alfa Romeo’s trunk.

Back in my home office, I power up the computer and click on the program in the corner of my desktop. A window pops open, and I pull up the camera feed in Sara’s cell. I told myself that I wouldn’t check on her, but my body switches into autopilot, with some dark, lost part of my heart serving as navigator.

I should minimize the screen and find another way to occupy my time until Luca arrives for our meeting, but that’s not happening. Sara has my full, undivided attention, whether I like it or not. I knew forcing her to witness Gregor get beaten to a pulp would strike a nerve. And flaunting his injuries in front of her only deepened the wound. Mytesoronever could stand the sight of someone in pain if she could prevent it. A little fixer, always with that trademark empathy.

To really make her suffer, I should have left her to rot in her own filth longer, but offering tiny comforts and then snatching them away will hurt worse in the long run. I want her to be dependent on me for everything. Grateful for even the smallest crumb. I want to wear her down until nothing of her remains, yet even that won’t be enough of a punishment for what she did to me. On the screen, Angela brings Sara lunch, and the two of them share whispers. Angela is added insurance to keep Sara in line, but I don’t fully trust the woman to follow instructions. It’s one of the other reasons why Gregor is there instead of recuperating from his pummeling.