Chapter 92

I tell them what I can in between strikes to my face, my arms, my body – offering the information freely, letting it stumble from my lips. I let them know that Romano does indeed have the information – that if there’s anything in Steven’s notebook about their finances, that Romano’s studying it for his own means.

It’s nothing they don’t already know, I suspect – they’re just warming me up.

Though I don’t know for what – what could they possibly want from me further than this? If I had any information about what Steven had in his notebooks and on his computer, I would give it – but I don’t, and I think they know that.

I think they know that they’ve got me where they want me – willing to spill anything they want.

And the fact that I’m not giving them details – they know, now, that it’s just because I don’t have them.

So…

But I figure it out when the next man comes down the stairs – a man of equal grace and power to Bonetti, to Romano, to Christian.

A man I recognize, because I served him drinks at Lupa, when he sat at Don Romano’s table.

A man I recognize because the likeness to his son is uncanny. A son that I saw laying in a puddle, his neck cocked at an awful angle.

Don Marino.

He nods to Bonetti, but quickly focuses his eyes on me, slipping his hands into his pockets and slowly crossing the basement until he’s standing right before me. “This her?” he asks, his voice quiet and heavy with grief.

“We believe so,” Bonetti replies, coming to stand by the other Don, his peer. “You can ask her anything you like, though. We’ve got her…all softened up for you.”

Marino nods and stares down at me and my heart begins to pound. Because this, I realize, is the true interrogation. They’ve figured out that I’m not only Iris Smith - the hacker’s girlfriend and Christain’s pet – but also Bambi, the last person to have seen Edward Marino alive.

The two Don’s take a moment to confer, Bonetti sharing everything he knows about me with Marino. But my eyebrows go up when Marino begins to talk.

“Word has it,” Marino says, glancing over at me. “That she is more than just a pet of the Romano family. That she’s known Christian Romano since he was a child – a sentimental connection, but a strong one.”

I stare at him, shocked because…because how the hell would he know that? No one knows that. Bonetti’s brows go up too as he glances over at me, processing the information. But there’s not much time to think on it, because it doesn’t seem to change Marino’s determination at all.

No, before I know it, Marino’s crossing the room to me, leaning down to stare me in the eyes.

“What did you do to my son?” Marino says in a harsh hiss, the words slipping dangerously between his teeth.

I shake my head, staring up at him, and it’s not a lie – I didn’t do anything.

My mind races, frantic, as I try to figure out what to do. Some impulse in me tells me to beg, but I know that it won’t do anything – that there is no pity in these men, no compassion.

“Bitch!” Marino suddenly shouts, and I go rigid in my chair the moment before his hand lashes out, slapping me hard across the face. “I asked you a fucking question!”

“I didn’t do anything to your son!” I cry out, my head hanging to the side. I work to lift it, to meet his eyes again. “I swear! I – I got out of the car, and he drove away!”

Time drags by in my terror, but the interrogation proceeds as it did before. I work hard to stick to my story – the one that Nico and Christian and Frankie and I worked up what feels like forever ago. It’s so based in truth that it’s almost easy – Edward getting rough with me, me getting scared, me getting out of the car when he drove like crazy.

By some miracle, I don’t slip – don’t let any stray details out that reveal the outlines of my lie.

I don’t know how much time passes when Marino and Bonetti step away from me a second. My breath is coming harsh between my swollen, bloody lips and I let my eyes drift shut as I listen to them. It’s not that I even care what they have to say – not really. There’s just…no way to keep their words from my ears.

“It’s too much of a coincidence,” Marino murmurs. “The hacker girl you’re looking for ends up in my son’s car the night he dies? And she’s living in Romano’s son’s apartment, a childhood friend? Under his personal bodyguard all day and night? It’s…too much.”

“I agree,” Bonetti murmurs. “There’s more to the story – too many coincidences for it to be that simple. But don’t worry – we’ll get it out of her. I’m sorry, Marino, for your loss. Accept this woman’s truth as a gift, from me.”

I work hard to concentrate on my breaths, on dragging them into my lungs, trying to keep my mind on anything abut my terror. They’ll get it out of me? What…what does that mean?

“You don’t have unlimited time, Bonetti,” Marino murmurs, displeased. “Romano will come looking for her – he won’t be pleased to have her snatched out of his hands.”

“Which one,” Bonetti mutters in reply, a little dismissive.

“I’m serious,” Marino snaps, making me jump a little. Any sharp noise now – it sends streaks of terror right through me. “I want this done, Bonetti. If you can’t handle it, I will.”

“I’ll handle it,” Bonetti says, and my eyes open slightly when I hear the sound of his hand clapping on Marino’s shoulder.

I turn my head, just slightly, in time to see the two of them heading towards the door.

“Bruno?” Bonetti calls over his shoulder, and I flinch when I realize that the hulking mass of Bruno is still standing next to me. “Put her in the cooler for a bit. See if we can loosen her tongue.”

My breath is harsh now as Bruno calls his agreement. I sit up as straight as I can, my eyes wide as I look up at Bruno. “No,” I plead, shaking my head. I don’t know what the cooler is, but I do know that I don’t want it – don’t want to go in it. “Please, please –“

“Save your breath,” he mutters, I think disgusted with me, and unties me from the chair before he yanks me hard to my feet. I ignore his words, continuing to beg as Bruno hauls me across the room towards –

Oh my god –

I start to scream when I see it – a simple box, painted black – no larger than a coffin –

With a padlock on top.

“In!” Bruno shouts, and I go mad. I start to scream louder now, pulling against his arm, doing everything I can to pull away, to get away from him – from that box –

He just grabs me and hits me – hard – three times across the face and head – so hard that my mind spins, and I go limp against him, dazed, an agonized groan slipping from my mouth.

It’s enough of a lack of protest for Bruno to scoop me off my feet, to lay me out in the box. I come back to myself as he begins to lower the lid down – and then I’m screaming, pleading at first and then an unending wordless roar as darkness falls around me, and I hear the sound of the padlock clamping shut.

I hyperventilate immediately, panicking and throwing my entire body against the coffin in which I’m held –

Tight spaces – small spaces – I’ve never been able to handle them –

I kick, and pound, and feel the wood scraping hard against my arms, pinning me hard against my hands, which are still cuffed behind me. But there’s nothing I can do – no give to this wooden box. Whoever built this cooler did it well – gave just enough space to fit a person, but not enough to allow me to wind up, to get any leverage.

Eventually, my screams turn to sobs, and my body goes limp against the wooden walls of my tiny cell. I can barely breathe for how hot it feels in here, for the lack of oxygen. There are cracks in wood – built for air, I guess – so realistically I know I won’t suffocate.

But god, it feels like it could happen at any moment.

Still, I know that I’m trapped – that there’s no recourse here, that I’m just…entirely at their mercy.

And so I turn my head to the side, and cry, and wish I was dead.