Page 32 of Run to Me

I grab the knife from the floor before he can get any stupid ideas of trying to flop his body towards it and grab his shoulder. I shove him a little so he’s laying like a starfish on his back.

I can tell from the desolate look in his eyes that he’s given up, that he thinks this is the end.

Too bad for him this is only the beginning.

My brothers think I can’t be trusted when it comes to torture. They don’t realize that I save the worst for those that truly deserve it and sometimes I like to make things quick because there’s no point hanging around when the job has already been done.

And this little fucker laid out on the warehouse floor like a sorry sack of shit deserves everything he has coming to him.

He’s gonna wish he never touched my angel.

Fuck, by the time I’m done with him he’ll wish he’d never been born.

Knife in hand, I crouch down and gently trail the blade across his torso and he shivers in anticipation for what’s to come.

“You don’t deserve an easy death,” I murmur, speaking for the first time since I began inflicting my wrath.

“P-please, I’m sorry about what I did to Robyn… I’m so sorry,” he whimpers and the sound of her name on his lips causes something inside of me to snap.

“I told you not to speak her fucking name,” I bark, the anger of my voice making him flinch, which also makes him whimper since half of his bones have been broken in the last hour by yours truly.

I lean over him and pry his jaw open with one hand before grabbing hold of his tongue. Usually I’d just cut out his tongue, but I’m fancying changing things up a little bit.

I push the blade through the center of his tongue before letting go, leaving his tongue sticking out of his mouth with the knife skewered through.

Satisfied in the knowledge that he won’t be able to speak my girl’s name ever again, I nod to Elio and gesture for him to bring me my bag of toys.

Tonight’s only just getting started.

Chapter Thirteen

Robyn

Istare up at the ceiling from where I lie on the bed, mentally preparing myself to get up and make my morning coffee.

I’m not usually so desperate for a caffeine fix in the mornings. But then again, I’m not normally sleeping in my stalkers spare bedroom while he’s out doing God knows what, trying to find the man who’s after me and leaving me to stay in his small apartment with his scary as hell brother who communicates in grunts.

I barely slept, my mind spinning with everything that’s happened over the last few weeks.

How did I go from being the invisible girl who was constantly overlooked to being the girl with a stalker and being attacked and threatened by random men?

If someone had told me a couple of months ago that this would be my life—that I’d be staying with an obsessive Mafia prince while he tracks down a man who plans to… I don’t know, hurt me? Kidnap me? He wasn’t exactly specific in that area; I just know it was nothing good—I’d have thought they had lost their damn mind and probably advise them to get some help.

But no, of course this is my life.

At one point during the night—between tossing and turning in this huge bed and freaking out about what will happen if Enzo doesn’t find the mystery man—I briefly wondered if I’d actually just lost my goddamn mind and this was all some messed up dream that I’m having from reading too many Mafia romance books.

Maybe that’s why I haven’t completely freaked out about the whole Enzo situation, I’ve gone and desensitized myself by reading so much dark romance that the idea of having a stalker doesn’t even really phase me.

I sigh before kicking the cover from my body and finally get out of bed.

It doesn’t take me long to shower and dress and by the time I’m done it’s only seven thirty.

I head out to the kitchen where I find Marco sitting at the kitchen island nursing a cup of coffee. He’s wearing a fresh suit and looks perfectly put together, whereas I’ve thrown on an oversized shirt and leggings. We’re worlds apart and I wonder how him and Enzo are brothers when they’re complete opposites.

“Morning,” I murmur as I pour myself a coffee and stand with my hip resting against the counter. I’m not sure what to do, do I stay here and try and make conversation with a man that’s impossible to communicate with? Do I go sit in the lounge? Do I hide away in the bedroom again?

As I predicted, rather than speaking to me he nods his head in greeting before standing. He makes his way around the island, and I instinctively take a step back, causing him to pause his movements.