Alessio’s eyes blazed. “No.”
“Really? So, you didn’t try to cause a problem with me today because you didn’t want to just come up and say hello? I don’t know, like a normal person might.”
“Cree says a lot of shit.”
“I noticed a lot of it was right, though.”
Alessio’s throat jumped when he swallowed hard. “Possibly. Doesn’t mean all of it is.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t know whether I like you or not,” Alessio muttered.
“Same.”
This time, it was Corrado that found his gaze drifted down from the shaggy hair covering Alessio’s eyes to where his lips rested in what almost seemed like a smirk. Not quite, but almost. Like the guy just had a natural arrogance about him. That was something Corrado found most annoying in others, but with Alessio, it drew him in.
Another problem?
Probably.
It had been Alessio that kissed him earlier, and Corrado wasn’t entirely sure why he felt the strangest urge to see if the man tasted the same now, but he made the move this time. It didn’t seem to come as any kind of shock to Alessio when Corrado’s mouth came down on his, and he backed him into the wall.
Alessio’s fingers found the waistband of his pants, his fingers digging into the hard muscles there as his tongue swept the seam of Corrado’s lips. Just like that first kiss, this still felt like a fight to Corrado ... like neither of them were willing to yield to the other. No softness; no careful exploration. It was just war. Tongues clashing against each other as he realized, yes, Alessio tasted exactly the same.
Like fucking sin.
His teeth caught Alessio’s bottom lip, and then the man’s fingers pressed harder into his skin just because. If anything, it only made Corrado lurch forward, so he didn’t just have Alessio backed against the wall. No, he had his body pinning him there. Just like when the man had him pinned to the fucking mat of the ring earlier. He wanted him to know what that felt like—to be under someone else’s control, and to like it at the same time.
And yes, he could feel just how much Alessio liked it.
Corrado let out a harsh exhale, his lips grazing down Alessio’s jaw as he tipped his head back to the wall. “Fuck, so that’s a yes on the whole picking a fight thing, then?”
“Fuck you, Guzzi.”
He just laughed.
What else could he do?
A noisy buzz echoed throughout the room, sending Corrado and Alessio’s gaze flying upward to find the sound. Above the doorway, a light turned from green to red, making Corrado even more confused than he already was. It was Alessio who seemed to understand what was going on as he cursed under his breath.
“Shit, I gotta go,” Alessio muttered.
“Wait,” Corrado said, refusing to move to let him get past, “what does that mean?”
“It’s starting.”
“What’s starting?”
Alessio wet his lips, his gaze meeting Corrado’s. “Training. I hope you fucking make it through what they’re about to do to you and your brother.”
Ice slipped through Corrado’s blood stream.
What had they signed up for?
“Why that hope?”
Alessio flashed a grin, as small as it was. “Because maybe I want to know what happens next with us.”
Corrado jerked fast away from the wall at those words. Alessio wasted no time slipping out of the room, leaving him alone to his racing heart, and his thoughts. Out in the hallway, he heard footsteps—Alessio leaving, maybe?
And doors shutting.
He stared up at that red light again.
No one—or very few people—were left inside the complex. Why did it sound like all the doors were closing one by one? Hadn’t Alessio said it was all electronic? Someone could control the doors without physically needing to shut them by hand?
The footsteps got louder, though.
And closer.
Definitely not Alessio.
Not anymore.
Corrado looked down to stare out his still opened doorway. Except now, the hallway outside of it wasn’t empty. Black-clothed figures stood there, their faces covered with masks, and their hands steady on the weapons they held.
“It’s time to get started, Corrado,” the one in front of the group said.
He recognized that voice.
Cree.
“Doing what?” Corrado asked.
“You don’t get to ask questions. Make this easy.”
Right.
That probably wasn’t going to work for him. Not when he didn’t know what in the hell was going on, and he didn’t know what might come next. His heart ached from beating so hard, but he was positive there was no way out of here.
Was that what they wanted, though?
For him to fight?
Because he could do that.
“Where’s my brother?” he demanded.
“Walk outside the room, Corrado.”
“No.”
“You do understand that this will happen one way or another.”
“That doesn’t tell me—”
“Easy or hard,” Cree said behind the black mask.
“Tell me where my brother is.”
“Hard it is.”
They came in on him, then.
All of them.
Corrado couldn’t ever remember being taken to the ground so fast or hard before. His bones shook when they put him to the floor, an ache radiating throughout his whole body. He let out a shout, and tried to fight back. It was fucking pointless, though. There were too many, and only one of him.
His gaze darted from one mask-covered face to the other, but they didn’t speak. Five of them, he thought, but maybe six. It was hard to tell when they moved so fast, and he still didn’t know what in the hell was going on. His arms were tied at his back, but hell, he hadn’t even seen the zip ties come out for them to do it.
Someone dragged him up from the floor while someone else leaned in beside him, their eyes being the only thing he could see behind the mask as they said, “Don’t make this worse for yourself, kid. You’re already in, and there’s no way out. Just let it happen.”
Right.
Okay.
Damn.
“W-what happens now?” Corrado asked as he was pulled from the room.
“It’s gonna hurt before it gets better.”
Who said that?
He didn’t even know.
7.
Alessio
Hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Alessio watched from a safe distance as Corrado was pulled from his room by the team. The team being a small group of men and women hand-picked by Cree to help him train whoever had signed the contract. They were never easy about it—they didn’t go in easy, either.
All or nothing.
Corrado’s shout echoed down the corridor, his voice thick with panic and uncertainty. Not fear, though. Not yet. That would come soon enough, Alessio knew. The fear would come when he was either locked in total darkness, rounds of beatings marking the passing hours he spent in isolation to fuck his mind entirely up, or when they put him in the tank.
Fuck.
That fucking tank.
Alessio felt the pressure building in his chest simply remembering his own time in that cold, dark water. It never got any better in the tank, or the darkness. Long stretches of time where your mind was too awake—fear saturating your entire body because you never knew what was going to happen next.