Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles Book 3)

By: Cora Reilly

Fabiano lowered his gaze to Serafina, who started stirring slightly. The rip in her wedding dress shifted, exposing her long bare leg. She was wearing a white lace garter. Fabiano reached for the skirt of her dress and covered her leg. I tilted my head at him.

“She’s an innocent,” he said neutrally.

“She won’t return to them innocent,” I said darkly.

Fabiano met my gaze. “Hurting her won’t break the Outfit. They will come closer together to bring you down.”

“We will see,” I murmured. “Let’s call Nino and see which route to choose next.” Fabiano and I moved toward the desk and put the phone on loudspeaker.

We had just finished our call when Serafina moaned. We turned to her. She woke with a start, disoriented. She blinked slowly at the wall then up at the ceiling. Her movements were slow, sluggish. Her breathing picked up, and she looked down at her body, her hands feeling her ribs then lower, coming to rest on her abdomen—as if she thought we’d fucked her while she was passed out. I supposed it made sense. She would have been sore.

“If you keep touching yourself like that, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Her gaze darted to us, her body stiffening.

“We didn’t touch you while you were unconscious,” Fabiano told her.

Her eyes darted between him and me. It was obvious she wasn’t sure if she could believe him.

“You would know if Fabiano or I had fucked you, trust me, Serafina.”

She pressed her lips together, fear and disgust swirling in her blue eyes. She began squirming and wiggling as if she was trying to get off the bed but couldn’t control her body. Eventually she closed her eyes, her chest heaving, her fingers trembling against the blanket.

“She’s still drugged,” Fabiano said.

“I’ll get her a coke. Maybe the caffeine will sober her up. I don’t like her this weak and unresponsive. It’s no challenge.”


I watched Remo leave the room and forced myself into a sitting position. “Fabiano,” I whispered.

He came closer and knelt before me. “Fina,” he said simply. Only my brother called me by that name, but Fabiano had always played with us when we were little and knew me by the nickname.

My mother hadn’t raised me to beg, but I was desperate. I touched his hand. “Please help me. You were part of the Outfit. You can’t allow this.”

He pulled his hand away, his eyes hard. “I am part of the Camorra.”

He stood and looked down at me without a hint of emotion.

“What will happen to me? What does your Capo want with me?” I asked hoarsely.

For a second his eyes softened, and that was the most terrifying answer he could have given me. “The Outfit attacked us on our own territory. Remo is out for retribution.”

Icy terror clawed at my insides. “But I have nothing to do with your business.”

“You don’t, but Dante is your uncle and your father and fiancé are high-ranking Outfit members.”

I looked down at my hands. My knuckles were chalk white from clutching the fabric of my dress. Then I noticed the red stains and quickly released the tulle. “So he’s going to make them pay by hurting me?” My voice broke. I cleared my throat, trying hard and failing to hold on to my composure.

“Remo didn’t divulge his plan to me,” he said, but I didn’t believe him for one second. “He might use you to bribe your uncle into handing over parts of his territory ... or his Consigliere.”

Uncle Dante would never give up part of his territory, not even for family, no matter how much my mother begged him to, nor would he hand over one of his men, his Consigliere. He couldn’t, not for one girl. I was lost.

My vision swam again and I slumped back down onto the mattress.

Through the fogginess I heard Remo’s voice. “Change of plans. Let her sleep the drugs out of her system while we drive. We’ve spent too much time at this place. Nino called again. He suggests we head out now. He sent our helicopter to pick us up in Kansas. He heard from Grigory that Cavallaro has called upon every soldier to search for his niece and we are still on the fringes of his territory.”

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