Adamo chuckled darkly, and pressed a fierce kiss to my lips. “It’s not that I hate it or that it haunts me in nightmares, Dinara. I enjoy it too much, that’s the fucking problem. I relish in the act of causing others’ pain, at least when I think they deserve it. I wish it were different, but I’m messed up. And the people on our list, they all deserve it so I’ll have a fucking great time doing it.”
“So you didn’t partake in torture because you liked it too much?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I quickly realized that I had the potential to be as good and creative as Remo, but I never wanted to be like that. I thought I could be better.” His smile became darker. “But I’m not, and the next asshole on the list will learn it the hard way, if you let me.”
I swallowed and gave a jerky nod. Adamo kissed me and wrapped his arms even more tightly around me. I could hardly breathe, but I only hugged him back with the same force. After the events of the day, after everything we’d just discussed, my body rang with the need to be as close to Adamo as possible. I didn’t care if it made me look weak or needy. Adamo made me feel as if it was okay to not be strong once in a while. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and I closed my eyes, feeling safe.
The next morning, we headed out for the next stop on our roadtrip: Sacramento, the home of number two on our list. Even though this was my path to vengeance, Adamo and I were in this together. I was glad that I didn’t have to take this difficult journey alone.
The windows of the car were rolled down as we took the Interstate 80 to Sacramento. Warm air tousled my hair and my eyes were closed. The low beat of a rap song blasted from the speakers. Adamo’s fingers around mine kept me rooted as they always did when images from the past replayed in my head. This time they hadn’t overpowered me. I’d summoned my personal demons to find the right mindset for what lay ahead.
Adamo parked in front of the house of number two and killed the engine. The house wasn’t how I’d imagined it. I’d expected a forlorn, unkempt place. Something that reflected my own dark feelings whenever the face of him replayed in my memory. He had been the fear of my past.
Goosebumps rose all over my body. The front yard was immaculately kept, with perfectly trimmed lawn and a beautiful white porch. This looked like a place of happiness.
“Are you sure he lives here alone?”
“Not alone, no. He shares the house with his mother, but he doesn’t have his own family.”
“Does she know?” I asked.
“Yes, she gave him an alibi in a case but he was convicted anyway.”
I nodded, wondering how she could live with what her son had done, but she wasn’t my concern. “But she isn’t home now?”
“No, she works in a gas station. We’re clear to go in.”
Clear to go in. I smiled wryly. “You make it sound as if we’re a SWAT team.”
“We’re going to kidnap him, so we have to be as stealthy.”
“This is a good neighborhood so people will report suspicious behavior.”
Adamo shrugged. “We’ll be fine. Let’s wait here for him to return home from work.”
We sat in silence for almost an hour before a car pulled into the driveway and a short but heavily overweight man got out. His hair had thinned and turned gray, but even from afar his face sent a shudder through my body. My fingers clamped around my knees and my breathing became uneven as my pulse sped up. I was torn between the urge to run and the desire to attack. “Dinara?” Adamo said softly.
I dragged my eyes away. Adamo’s brows furrowed. “You are safe. The roles have switched. You aren’t his victim. You will be his judge.”
“I know,” I said, and the words said aloud banished the fear from the past into the darkest corner of my mind where little Katinka still cowered helplessly. Today she’d get justice.
My fingers shook with nerves and excitement when Adamo dragged the struggling man into the basement of a Camorra storage. Considering that his death wouldn’t be quick, Adamo had chosen the place for its remote location. The walls were thick and would contain my abuser’s screams.
I had never hurt someone on purpose before Adamo and I started our vigilante journey. There had never been a reason to do it. I wasn’t someone who enjoyed seeing people in pain. It didn’t give me a kick, or even fascinated me.
Adamo was different. I occasionally caught the flicker of eagerness in his dark eyes when we’d discussed possible torture methods that we could try on number two. Adamo had called them by their names in the beginning but I preferred to give them numbers. It made them appear less human and more like the monsters that haunted my nightmares.
The basement was dank and the stench of something rotten and piss hung in the air. Maybe rats. A few smaller puddles of water littered the floor where the ceiling leaked.
“We could have used one of the Camorra torture rooms. They are better equipped and cleaner,” Adamo commented as he shoved the struggling man toward the wall. He collided hard with it and fell to his knees with a pained gasp.
“No,” I said firmly. I’d already accepted too much help from the Camorra, and technically still was, even if Adamo didn’t do this in his capacity as a Camorrista but as my… lover. Boyfriend? I pushed the thought away.
Number two turned around and stumbled to his feet. His eyes sought mine. They lacked emotion and I vividly remembered the blank look in them as he’d laid hands on me many years ago. He’d paid extra. I remembered that too. My mother hadn’t wanted him to see me again but eventually Cody convinced her because the money was too good. Three encounters… three horror-filled hours. I didn’t remember much of them, as if my mind had blacked out parts to protect me.
Adamo held the knife out to me, a smaller, curved blade, not meant to kill, but maim or skin. After he’d pinned my abuser on the ground, Adamo used duct tape to bind the man’s hands and feet together.
The man struggled against his restraints, and for the first time, true fear flashed in those pitiless eyes. I nodded with a bitter smile. “That’s what I felt.”
I remembered the choking fear, the daunting panic and eventually the heart-breaking realization that I was helpless. That even my mother wouldn’t stop him. But today I was the one in control. I approached him slowly, my fingers around the blade tightening.
“Do you remember me?” I asked.
The man’s brows furrowed as he scanned my face. “No! I swear. This must be a misunderstanding.”
It wasn’t. I recognized him and the Falcones had made sure he was the right person. There would be no mistakes, no regret, no mercy.
I glanced at Adamo and gave a short nod. Adamo unpacked his laptop and set it up in front of the man. “Watch it closely,” Adamo said, fury tinging his voice. Violence twisted his expression. I took strange consolation in the realization that even if I’d fail, Adamo would be there to do what I couldn’t.
The video began and the man’s eyes widened with surprise. I stepped back, allowed him to watch the videos of us. On occasion, eagerness flickered in his eyes and my stomach tightened at his obvious excitement over what he’d done to me many years ago. I wanted to believe that people could change, that they could better themselves, but so far Adamo’s and my experiences proved the opposite. Adamo leaned against the wall to the man’s right with balled fists. It was obvious how difficult it was for him to hold himself back. Every time my abuser showed signs of enjoyment, Adamo’s body rocked forward.