Tales of Darkness & Sin - Pepper Winters Page 0,215

myself slowly up to a seated position. The musty smell, it’s not only the room. It’s the veil somehow still on my head.

The room spins and I close my eyes until the dizziness passes. When I open them again, a dark shadow looms over me. Leers down at me.

Diego.

“About fucking time.”

I look past him to see Angel sitting across the room, his back against the far wall. Noah’s head is on his lap.

“Hurry up, untie me,” Diego says. He’s been beaten. His lip is cut and there’s blood and numerous bruises on his face. He crouches down with his back to me.

I see that Noah’s hands are bound and Angel’s must be too. They’re behind him. I’m the only one they left unbound.

The white satin of my dress is smudged with dirt and blood, the hem black and the skirt ripped. I reach up to pull the lace off my head, the sound of hairpins dropping to the ground too delicate in this dungeon room. That’s what this is. A cell in a dungeon. With three stone walls, the fourth a wall of bars. The window my brother mentioned is about the size of a shoebox and too high to reach. That’s where the light is coming from. A too-bright square in the otherwise darkness. Daylight. I’ve been passed out since last night?

I wonder where we are. In the cellar of the compound where I was first imprisoned in the tower? I prefer the tower.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Diego barks, spittle landing on my face as he cranes his neck. I’m sure if his hands weren’t tied, he’d have slapped me a dozen times by now.

I meet his dark, hateful eyes.

Without a word, I reach to untie him. Ever obedient. Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I look over at Angel. He’s younger than Diego by a year. He looks sad, and like I heard in his voice, resigned. He’s also got bruises along his jaw and dried blood by his nose, but his face isn’t as bad as Diego’s.

“Is Noah okay?” I ask. Noah, our youngest brother, is still passed out.

“Yeah,” Angel says, looking down at him.

“Not for long if you don’t get these fucking ropes off me,” Diego interjects.

I look at the knot, shift my gaze back to Angel.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We were betrayed.”

“Marcus?” My would-be husband?

He shakes his head.

“Lover-boy is gone,” Diego tells me. “Ran away like the fucking coward he is.”

“He’s not my lover-boy. I hate him.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Move.” He gestures to the knot.

I’m about to focus my attention on it, when I hear the sound of a door clanging open nearby. Light falls into the space outside the cell. Heavy footsteps follow and I hear a man’s voice. Another one that I recognize. One that makes my skin crawl.

“Fuck,” Diego mutters, awkwardly getting to his feet as the men come into view.

Soldiers enter first, automatic weapons on their shoulders. Three of them, one carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. They insert a key into the lock and open the door of our cage just as my uncle comes into view. He’s grinning like a fucking jackal.

His eyes fall on me first, skim over me. It would make my skin crawl if I wasn’t so afraid. His gaze bounces off each of my brothers. He’s clean-shaven, hair neatly combed back slick with gel. I can smell his signature overuse of cologne from here.

“Fucking traitor,” Diego mutters and spits in his general direction. It doesn’t touch him though.

My uncle looks at him, his lips turning down in disapproval. “Isn’t that what we all are?”

More footsteps.

I look beyond my uncle as he steps aside. Two more soldiers, another man I know isn’t a soldier just from the casual slant to his stance.

And then him. The one in charge. He’s no longer masked but I know it’s him. I’d recognize his eyes anywhere. I will never forget those eyes or the way they looked at me.

He stops just inside the cell, big frame taking up the whole of the entry, sucking up more than his share of oxygen.

My heart races at the sight of him.

The man I know isn’t a soldier slides his hands into his pockets. He leans toward the one in charge and says something too low for me to hear. He’s speaking Italian from what I can make out. I’d have known these weren’t Cartel men anywhere. He’s wearing a white button down and jeans. Casual beside the suited