I had to force down the shiver from the sickening look he was giving me. It was one I’d had aimed at me before, but back then I was on stage and holding all the control. I had no control and no recourse anymore.
Before he finished Domenico emerged, grabbed the slug by the neck, and threw him to the ground.
“Don’t try and mark what isn’t fucking yours,” Domenico growled.
“She ain’t yours either,” the slug spat as he jumped back up to his feet, glaring at Domenico.
Domenico stepped forward and swung his fist with such speed and force that the slug didn’t even have time to process what was happening before he was slammed back to the ground. It was the same swiftness I’d seen with the man he’d executed.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked to nobody in particular before landing a swift kick square in the slug’s ribs.
The slug howled in pain, gasping for breath. None spoke up, but a crowd began to gather.
“You think you can just piss in here like some fucking animal?” Domenico grabbed him by the shirt and hoisted him up, only to slam him into a pillar. The slug turned around, only to be met with Domenico’s fist again.
“He is an associate sent from Jax’s crew,” someone finally spoke up.
“Seems Jax needs to teach his shits some fucking manners and what a fucking toilet is,” Domenico said before slamming his other fist into the slug’s face.
The crowd watched with rapt attention, their bloodthirsty cheers gaining volume. Many of them thrived on the carnage, while I vibrated with anxiety. An out-of-control mob of men with no fear of the law or much respect for rules was worrisome. Domenico always reined them in, but did he have enough presence to stop them?
When the bloodied mess of a man slumped down to the floor, I had my answer. Cries for blood became cheers of victory. The victor stood in the middle, blood dripping from his fists, and when he moved forward, the crowd parted, giving him a wide berth.
He squatted down beside my cage and scratched at his chin. It was the closest his face had been to mine in both the daylight and when I wasn’t frozen in fear, and I saw for the first time the depth of the scar that marked his face. With something that deep, there had to be issues, like nerve damage. I studied his features, the way the right side of his mouth failed to draw out as far as the left of his cruel smile.
“See something you like, princess?”
My gaze narrowed on him. “I see something I’d like to give a nice kick in the junk.”
His eyes never left mine. “Marco.”
My brow scrunched and Marco stepped forward, picked up his knee, and slammed his foot down hard onto the slug’s crotch. There were sympathetic groans of pain along with the high-pitched cries of possible damaged goods.
“That wasn’t what I was talking about.”
“That’s all you’re going to get. The closest you’ll get to my junk is down on your knees when you’re swallowing my cock.”
“Fuck you,” I spat.
The movement of his hand was so swift that I had no time to pull away before his fingers wrapped around my throat and tugged me to the cold metal of the bars.
“Don’t tempt me, princess.”
He released me with a shove, and I fell back, my hands reaching out to brace my fall.
“Piece of shit,” Domenico called out and waited for a response.
There was none—then Marco’s leg swung out and impacted with the slug again. “You answer when the boss is talking, roadkill.”
“Fucking shit, man! She’s just another bitch to sell.”
Domenico froze. I couldn’t see his face, but the men backing up from around him told me it wasn’t a happy expression.
“Who wants to become a made man?” Domenico asked. His tone was calm, cool, and deep. He held everyone’s attention, and many of the men dropped down to one knee in front of him. My brow scrunched as the memory of my father doing that to someone flashed in my mind.
The slug’s eyes, one of which was almost swollen shut, popped wide. “No, man. I’m sorry. Please!”
“This shit doesn’t even understand who you are,” Marco said as he stared down at the slug.
“Let me teach him, sir,” a younger man the same age as the slug said as he fumbled to pull a gun from the back of his pants. It was the guy I’d toppled over in my escape attempt.
“Not yet, Tito.”
Tito nodded, and his head dipped in respect.
Domenico squatted in front of the slug. “You’re a disrespectful piece of shit. How you even made it this far, I don’t understand. Who are you that Jax would send you here?”
The slug looked away, to the other men, to the ceiling, anywhere but at the man leaning over him. Domenico gave a huff of annoyance, pulled his gun from his waistband, and pressed it against the slug’s chest.
“No-nobody. I’m nobody. I just heard this is where the girls were.”
“And you thought, what? You’d taste the goods?” Domenico asked.
“They’re here to be sold for sex.”
“Damaged goods don’t fetch as high of a price. If I were to let every man here fuck every girl, we wouldn’t make any money.”
Did that mean Domenico’s words were simply a scare tactic? A way of keeping girls in line with the threat of being used sexually?
“I’m sorry.”
Domenico removed his gun and stuffed it back in his waistband before standing. “Get him cleaned up and back to Jax.”
“Be grateful la Bestia granted you mercy,” Marco said to the slug.
My brow scrunched at the name—the Beast. It was fitting.
Once again, the slug’s eyes widened and snapped to Domenico. He immediately turned onto his knees, bowing in front of Domenico, arms outstretched on the floor, his head down.
“Forgive me, sir.”
“Clean that shit up,” Domenico growled, pointing to the puddle of urine. “When you’re done and there is no more piss smell, get the fuck out of here and never come back. If you do, no amount of groveling will save you from my bullet.”
The man nodded but stayed down until Domenico walked away.
He didn’t go far, stopping and kneeling in front of me again as he reached through the bars. His blood-stained fingers gripped my jaw, and when I tried to yank away, he tightened his grip and pulled me closer.
Our eyes were locked, and I was tempted to turn my head and bite him, but at the same time I’d just watched him beat a man to a bloody pulp. What would he do to me?
“Just because I told him all that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Keep being defiant, and I will break you.” His thumb ran across my bottom lip. “I bet you taste like roses and honey.”
I didn’t break our stare-down. “Can a prisoner at least get a book? I mean, if you’re not going to entertain me in any other way…” It was probably not wise to poke him, but I wasn’t some weakling he could bend with a few harsh words and threats.
He stared at me before disappearing into his “office” but surprised me when he came back over with a book in his hand.
He let loose a battered and beaten flutter of pages through the top of the cage. It landed in my lap with a thump. The binding was cracked and the worn pages indicated it was a much-read book. The cover wasn’t familiar, but it was also scuffed and torn.