“Tell her you killed Salvatore,” he said. “If you don’t … I’ll make sure she hears you scream my name as I take you right here.” His words slithered around me, pulling tight. “Be a good girl and say it.”
“No.”
“Who is there?” My mother’s voice trembled.
Artur’s hand slid onto my thigh, rough and purposeful, gripping me brutally. His fingers pressed into my skin, sending electricity straight through my spine. I flinched, my resolve trembling under his cruel touch.
“Speak,” he growled.
“Mamma…” I choked out, my body shaking.
“Alessia?” Her voice cracked with fragile hope, and it shattered me. “Is that you?”
Rodion’s hand moved higher, a silent threat and a dark promise. I bit down hard on my lip.
“Mamma, I killed … I killed Salvatore,” I whispered, the lie dragging across my throat like glass.
Silence fell. Mamma was probably too shocked to speak. Artur stepped back, leaving a hollow chill in his place. He picked up the phone with a victorious smirk, eyes never leaving mine.
“Mrs. Romero,” his voice was coated with venomous charm, “you and your husband might want to check your email. Next time, I won’t be calling. I’ll be at your door.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table with a dull clack. I stood there, breathless.
“What … what was that?” I asked in shock.
Artur leaned in, his mouth near mine. “Now,” he whispered with a wicked glint in his eye, “don’t you think it’s time we deliver death to Salvatore?”
Chapter Sixteen
Alessia
The club swallowed us inheat and sound as we stepped in. The bass rolled through the floor in steady pulses. Coloured lights swept across a haze of smoke, and the crowd moved in a slow, consuming rhythm. Artur didn’t hesitate; he went straight to the bar and occupied a stool.
I took the seat beside him, letting my gaze drift over the shifting crowd, measuring faces. Was this where he intended to find Salvatore? A few people looked in our direction. But they looked away at once, as though holding the glance might cost them something they could not afford to lose.
Artur ordered, and the bartender placed a glass in front of him with silent efficiency. I stayed quiet, letting the music and voices settle over me until it felt like a weight pressing against my skull. My stomach tightened. There were too many bodies here, toomany blind spots, too many ways the night could turn.
Artur rose without warning and placed a bill on the counter. I shifted to follow him, but his voice came back over his shoulder. “Stay here. Don’t make me have to find you.”
I eased back onto the stool, my hand still half-raised as if I might call after him. I watched his broad frame dissolve into the mass of bodies and light.
Two girls at the far end of the bar touched their glasses together, laughter spilling between them. I caught their eyes and lifted a hand in greeting. Their smiles faltered almost instantly. They turned away, disappearing into the crowd as if proximity to me might draw the wrong attention. My smile faded.
The bartender’s voice broke through the noise. “Drink?”
“I can drink?”
He shrugged, polishing a glass. “It’s covered.”
“Yes, please.” If I couldn’t walk out of here, then I would drink, and maybe the heat would be enough to push the cold edge of fear further back.
One glass turned into two, then three. The liquor spread through me, loosening my limbs and blurring the hard lines of the room. I knew I didn’t have the tolerance for it, but I no longer cared.
The stool beside me stayed empty, and I let a low laugh slip out. “Cowards.”
I drained another glass and set it down, my fingers brushing the rim. “One more?”
The bartender seemed to shift and double in my vision. I squinted and gave a soft, unsteady laugh. “There are two of you. I should dance… Yes, I should dance.”