God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

When I startle awake, my entire body aches so badly, I let out a gasp before groaning.

Dio.

They left me hanging overnight, and the room is freezing. The extreme chill in my body makes the pain so much worse.

There’s complete silence as I glance around the room.

Yesterday, I was too shocked by the attack and torture to take in anything.

I see a metal table and various tools and knives. There’s also a stick with prongs, which they used to electrocute me with. The laptop is still on the table, and the camera’s pointed at me. It looks like I’m in a basement.

Knowing I’m being recorded, I lift my head and school my face into an emotionless expression.

What doesn’t break you makes you stronger.

With nothing to do but think, my thoughts turn to the attack.

Aunt Greta. Gerardo. Martha.

Sorrow pours into my chest.

Please let Aunt Greta be okay. Dio. I hope they got to her in time.

When a lump forms in my throat, I try to swallow it down.

Before I’m able to process my sorrow, it sinks in hard that I’ve been taken captive. I’ve been stripped to my underwear, and the piece of paper is still stapled to my stomach.

My harrowing situation fills me with immense dread, the realization that I won’t get out of here alive shuddering through me.

My first thought isn’t about where I’ll go when I die but about everything I’ll miss out on.

There was so much I wanted to do.

I’ll never become a mother.

I won’t get to go on my honeymoon with Damiano.

Damiano.

I won’t see him again.

The heartache tearing through me is too much to handle, and my mind scrambles to shove all the emotions into the darkest corner of my soul.

It was so much easier when my parents used to abuse me because I didn’t know any different.

Now that I’ve felt loved and have so much more to lose, it’s unbearable.

I don’t want to die.

Not now.

Not like this.

I hear the lock turning, and my chin lifts higher. I suck in a fortifying breath and find the spot on the wall to stare at.

Whatever happens, don’t show them any emotion.

Don’t break.

You’re a mafia queen.

You’re Gabriella Falco.

“Morning,” Filippo greets me as he walks into the room. “Did you get some sleep?”

What?

I don’t bother answering the bastard.

He types something on the laptop, and when the other man from yesterday enters the room, Filippo says, “Morning, Manny. Give her a bathroom break before we get started.”

Manny unwinds the rope from the hook, and I’m lowered to the floor. The strain in my arms relents when I’m finally able to bring them down, but then a sharp pain shoots through my shoulders.

Jesus.

I can’t stop a gasp from escaping my lips.

The rope remains around my wrists, and Manny uses it as a leash while shoving me forward so I’ll start walking. My legs feel numb, but I manage to put one foot in front of the other.

Even though pins and needles are spreading through my arms, I grab hold of the piece of paper and rip it away from my stomach. Crumpling it, I throw it to the floor.

Bastards.

Lifting my chin high, I walk out of the room.

“Go right,” Manny orders as he shoves me from behind, making the burns on my back sting.

I clench my jaw and walk down a dimly lit hallway.

“Up the stairs,” he snarls.

It’s so cold my body trembles uncontrollably, but I don’t want to show them I’m freezing and resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

Once I reach the top of the stairs, he again orders, “The door on your left.”

I walk into a small restroom that reeks as if it’s never been cleaned.

Dio. I hope I don’t catch an STD from the seat.

When I turn around to close the door, I mutter, “The rope.”

Manny shakes his head.

Stubborn as hell, I shove the door until the rope stops it, but at least it offers me some cover.

I struggle to move my underwear down, and keeping myself braced over the seat so my butt doesn’t touch it, I quickly relieve my bladder.

There’s no toilet paper, so I try to pull up my underwear as quickly as possible.

While I’m glancing down, I take in my matching black lace underwear set, and I feel a flicker of panic. It’s the first time in my life I regret not wearing granny panties.

If they really want to hurt Damiano, they’ll rape me.

It’s inevitable.

Dio.

I suck in a quivering breath and shut my eyes as the fear of being raped creates a tense knot in my chest.

“Hurry up!” Manny snaps.

Yanking on the rope, he makes the door shudder open.

I quickly flush the toilet, then lifting my chin, I force my features not to show any of the fear I feel and step out of the restroom.

Walking back to the basement I try to brace for whatever they’re going to do to me today.

How long will they keep trying to force Damiano to step down?

A few days?

Hours?

How long do I have before they kill me?

Entering the room where I’ll be tortured and killed, panic flares hot in my chest.

Just reacting, I swing around and slam my tied hands into the side of Manny’s neck before I try to make a run for it. He yanks the rope back, and it rips me off my feet. My side slams into the cold, hard floor, and air wooshes from my lungs.

Manny pulls at the rope and starts to drag me across the floor before hauling my body into the air once more.

He fastens the rope around a hook on the wall, then shoots me a glare.

“Let’s start with the cattle prod,” Filippo orders, seemingly unbothered by my pathetic escape attempt.

Dio.

I suck in deep breaths of air, and finding the spot on the wall, I do my best to focus on it as I brace for the pain.