Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(62)

If I’d only needed an executioner, I could have asked Dad to hunt down every single of my abusers. He would have gladly done it. He too yearned for a way to avenge me, and maybe even himself. That men had dared to lay hand on the daughter of a high-ranking Bratva member was like a slap in the face, even if my abusers didn’t know who I was.



The next morning, before Adamo and I set off to find guy number one on our list, we settled in front of his laptop to watch the disc with the recording of me with today’s target. The screen lit up with the image of a bed and a young version of myself perching on its edge with her hands in her lap, her eyes cast down. It was like watching someone else but I knew that would change the moment I started the recording. The girl’s horrors would become mine. The video would become reality in my head, would draw up memories of scents and sensations from the dark corners of my mind. I’d be dragged right back into the past. Adamo waited for me to hit play, his eyes kind and his expression patient.

I only stared at the screen, my body frozen. Past Dinara had her hair in pigtails, something that many of my abusers favored.

“We don’t have to watch,” Adamo said. “You know what happened. We know he’s guilty. There’s no reason to torture yourself with images from the past.”

I didn’t react, only stared at the screen. The problem was these images had haunted me almost every day since Dad had picked me up in Vegas over a decade ago.

“Or if you don’t want me to watch I can go for a walk until you’re done.”

Panic rushed through me at his suggestion, so I grabbed his hand, linking our fingers. “No,” I whispered harshly. “I can’t watch it alone. It’s bad enough that I relive it in my nightmares every night all alone.”

He squeezed my hand and my heart clenched with a mix of emotions at his support. Adamo had absolutely no reason to help me, but here he was. He was trying to keep his emotions under control for me but in his eyes, I could see many of my own emotions. The absolute hatred toward my abusers and the determination to exert revenge, and beneath all of that, an emotion both Adamo and I couldn’t risk given our families, our backgrounds…our futures.

I’d been trying to ignore my feelings but looking at him now I couldn’t deny that I was falling for Adamo. It was absolutely insane and I was glad that our revenge plan would keep me too busy to consider the insanity of my heart’s choice.

I focused on the screen and hit play, my body tightening even more. The first guy on our list walked into the room. His smile was overly kind as he approached my past self, but beneath it, lingered eagerness and hunger. Soon his face appeared before my inner eye, no longer on the screen. My grip on Adamo’s hand tightened as I tried to keep my face neutral, wanting to be strong, even as revulsion and terror battled in my insides. My throat corded up and cold sweat broke out on my body, plastering my clothes to my body.

When the man sat down beside young Dinara on the bed and touched her leg, I hit the pause button, stopping the video. I released a harsh breath, my pulse racing in my veins as past fears drove up my adrenaline. “I can’t watch it.”

“It’s okay. We can still dispose of all the discs.”

I shook my head. “We’ll take it with us to him today. I want him to watch it, even if I can’t do it.”

“All right,” Adamo said simply. I kissed him before I scooted to the edge of the bed.

“Let’s go now.” I needed to move before I lost courage. Locked into this motel room I felt like a caged animal.

Adamo didn’t hesitate. He stuffed the disc and the laptop into a bag before he followed me. He’d asked if I wanted him to pack material for torture but I

had said no. Killing another person would be challenge enough. Torture was out of the question, even if every single of my abusers deserved it. I wanted them dead. That would be enough.



Adamo parked at the curb across from the hardware store where the guy worked and also lived in a backroom. It was already late in the afternoon and the shop was supposed to close in half an hour. We didn’t talk as we sat together in the car. Adamo had grabbed a bag with donuts but I couldn’t force more than a bite past my corded-up throat. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since we’d watched the first few minutes of the video. I felt as if I were the prey and not the hunter.

My hands were clammy, and I was glad for Adamo at my side because he looked remarkably calm.

“It’s time,” he said eventually, and I realized that almost thirty minutes had passed without me realizing it. “He’ll close the shop any minute now.”

“Okay,” I croaked.

Adamo grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. “We should go now so we can slip in as last-minute customers. Breaking in poses the risk of alerting the police. This isn’t Las Vegas, we don’t have every police officer on our payroll.”

I swallowed and nodded, but I couldn’t move. Tears of anger at myself welled up and I blinked them back. “I—”

“I’ll go alone and kill him for you, unless you don’t want me to do it?”

I wanted my abuser dead, I wanted to do it myself, but maybe I was too weak to do it. I gave the tiniest nod, even as I hated myself for it. Adamo gave me a kiss and got out of the car before he grabbed the bag from the trunk. He jogged over to the hardware store and not a minute too soon. A guy had appeared at the door to turn the sign to closed. Adamo flashed him a charming smile and was allowed inside. Both men disappeared from my view and soon after Adamo hung up the closed sign before he headed back out of sight again.