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The physical pain is excruciating, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my chest at Henry’s betrayal. I trusted him. Iopened up to him in ways I never have with anyone else. And he used it all against me.
I should have trusted my instincts from the start. I knew better than to get involved with a cop. But Henry made me believe in love, in us. Now I'm paying the price for my naivety.
For a moment, I feel all my strength, my will to fight, dissipate.
Henry walks closer, his eyes cold and unfamiliar. “Can I have a turn?”
A part of me dies.
“Why not?” Hartley hands him the belt.
Henry waves it away. “You’re not thinking out of the box. A woman like this can endure your pain. She’s strong, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you.” The words have no oomph.
All the men laugh.
“You know, I wasn’t sure about you, Henry,” Hartley says. “You always seemed like such a by-the-book kinda guy."
Henry scoffs, shaking his head. "That's your problem. You're all too obvious. You know you nearly ruined everything with your heavy-handed tactics."
"What do you mean?" Peter asks, his brow furrowed.
"I mean that your little stunt at her office could have blown the whole operation. You said it yourself, Peter. We have to uphold the image of serving and protecting, an appearance of being honest and squeaky clean. You numb nuts reeked of dirty cops during that search. You're lucky I was there to smooth things over."
He’s more corrupt than the rest. And then it hits me. He wasn’t really looking into Lazaro’s disappearance. He was a part of it. And every time Henry intervened, every moment he seemed to be protecting me, it was all part of his act. He wasn't trying to help me. He was maintaining his cover.
I feel sick to my stomach. At that moment, I give up. I give in to the darkness threatening to consume me. There's nothing left for me here. My family is gone. My love is a lie.
“If you really want to torture her, there's a much more effective way,” Henry says, taking my chin in his hand. I wish I had the strength to jerk it away, but I don’t.
He forces me to look into the eyes I once thought held warmth and affection.
"I hate you," I hiss, mustering every ounce of venom I can. "Even if you kill all the D'Amatos, you'll never get away with it."
Hartley’s laughter echoes through the room. "Big talk from someone in your position. The police won't care about another dead D'Amato."
I steel myself, trying to look strong and defiant despite the fear coursing through me. "No, but others will care. We have friends. Allies. I wonder how long before each one of you disappears, one by one." I lock eyes with each of them in turn. “I wonder if they’ll ever find your bodies? I know one family that has a morbid fascination with dismemberment. They usually start cutting while you’re alive. I’ll hate to miss your castration.”
The two cops exchange uneasy glances. Good. I want them to spend the rest of their lives wondering if a friend of the D’Amato family will torture and kill them.
"You should hold your breath each time you turn on your car,” I say. "Boom."
"Shut up!" Peter snarls, but I can hear the fear in his voice.
I turn my gaze back to Henry, summoning every ounce of hatred I can muster. "And you… I'll kill you myself. Some way. Somehow."
Henry's smirk sends chills down my spine. His eyes, once so warm and comforting, now gleam with a coldness that makes my blood run cold. "That'll be very hard when you're dead."
I try to maintain my defiant glare, but inside, I'm crumbling. How did I not see his darkness? His deception?
“Don’t kill her yet. She hasn’t given me my blow job,” Dickhead says.
Henry's expression hardens as he turns to face the other cop. "I wouldn't recommend that. You stick your dick in her mouth and she’ll bite it off.”
“That’s if it fits. I can tell you have a tiny dick. Men like you always have tiny dicks.” I'm assuring my death now, but I'm dead, anyway. Might as well get a few of my own blows in.
Dickhead’s hand moves too fast for me to prepare for the slap. My body jerks from the impact, the cuffs digging deeper into my wrists.
