Falling for Deceit || WATTYS 2017

56 - PART II

A/N: This is the final chapter. I don't know if I'll add an epilogue onto it. But if you scream loud enough and demand it, then I will. Let me know your thoughts!

Thank you for supporting me during this story. It's been one hell of a ride ;)

-xoxo, Sophia

PS: If you're looking for YA fantasy stories, check out my other stories on my profile. <3

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Tony's POV

The next seconds were a blur. All I saw was the lock on the heavy cellar door twist from the other side and fall to the ground in a clatter, and even that was too blurry for my swollen, half-shut eyes to decipher properly. And then there was some sort of snicker as the blade that had been buried in my arm was viciously ripped from my flesh. I could have sworn I heard an animalistic growl follow, but maybe that was also just a figment of my imagination.  "I was wondering when you'd decide to join the fun. You are a master of the art after all."

"I had been prepared to give you a swift death," that familiar voice said in a guttural voice. "You'll be nothing but a pile of mush at the end of this."

Lorenzo laughed loudly, but I was only relying on weakened sound at this point, so it could have been anything from hysterics or genuine amusement. "Mush? That's a word I never thought I'd hear you say."

"I live to surprise," Marco replied smoothly.

And disappoint, I thought sourly, even through the shards of pain that dug in all over my body.

Silence fell over the cellar, and something poked my cheek. The familiar tip of yet another knife it seemed. "Day that again darling," Lorenzo purred in an evil tone, "Just to prove to Marco here that even the only person he wanted out of all this don't want him."

I'd said that out loud. I moaned when I suddenly felt the rim of a wet, cool bottle press against my lips. The minuscule tilt felt like the cruelest torture in this world, and my parched tongue stuck out until the point of pain to catch that small drop that slithered past my lips. A chuckle followed as the bottle fell away, and I nearly cried out. "Enough," Marco hissed vehemently, and for once, I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Lorenzo barked out a laugh and tsked teasingly.

"You don't really get a say in this." The click of a gun. A blade went to my throat immediately after. "Now, now Marco... don't let that pesky temper get the better of you. Listen, we'll play a game. I ask a question, and whenever you answer in what I deem is the correct answer, sweet Antonia over here gets a gulp of ice, cold water. Sounds fun?" There was no answer, and I could almost imagine Lorenzo's cruel smile. "Great!" He clapped his hands loudly and the blade disappeared from my neck.

"I don't have time for this," Marco hissed between gritted teeth. I envisioned that hard jaw clenched with rage, and the beastly darkness creeping in from the edges of those amber ires.

"We have nothing but time," Lorenzo spat back, and this time, I heard the real rage that permeated every word. The whole amusement had been a facade that hid the psychopath that prowled beneath his skin. "Now. Let's begin. Marco, first question: when you're valet found Tony beneath that rubble of her burned building, how and why had he chosen to save only her, and not the dozens of other people who were crying out for help around them?"

There was an edged silence that could have deafened ears, and the blade that had left came up to my skin once more. "Fine," Marco hissed. "Put the knife away and I'll answer." The blade disappeared and when I could finally manage to open the eye that was the least swollen, Lorenzo had his arms crossed and gestured with the weapon for Marco to continue. And Marco... Dio. I had forgotten how his mere annoyance could shift the atmosphere in a room. This time, with the purely icy rage that surrounded him, the venomous look in those narrowed eyes seemed to stab every free inch of breath until I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't decide whether seeing him standing there in front of me, in a towering structure of flesh and blood, made me melt with relief or want to crawl out of these chains and put a bullet in his heart. His gaze turned from Lorenzo and his eyes locked with my one. His voice was cold and unwavering as he spoke, but even that seemed like a facade he'd manufactured for Lorenzo. Only I could distinguish the tiniest way that his eyes swirled with an emotion that strongly resembled guilt and a pleading beg for forgiveness. "We had installed men around the neighborhood to watch you for a few years beforehand, and we would have retrieved you beforehand. The building was a mere convenience that made it easier to usher you into our circle under the pretext of work."