Chapter 11 – By Fate I Conquer Cora Reilly Read Online Free
“Down!” he hissed and the dogs in all the kennels laid down obediently. He stopped beside me but only had eyes for the girl inside the cage.
“Marcella Vitiello, finally we meet.”
“Am I supposed to know who you are?” she said haughtily.
I had a feeling she knew very well who we were. Her reaction to seeing the cut had been too strong. She couldn’t be that oblivious. Though I was sure Vitiello did his best to turn her life into a fucking fairy tale. Yet even her shopping-fixated princess brain had to know the stories about our club and the Famiglia.
“Maybe you don’t,” Earl said with a shrug. He turned, showing her the logo of the hellhound with our script. “I’m the president of the Tartarus MC, and we have to settle a score with your father. Unfortunately for you, we intend to settle it with your help.”
Marcella crossed her arms. “I won’t help you settle anything. Your plan is doomed. My father will butcher all of you like he should have done a long time ago.”
Not blind to what had happened obviously. Suddenly seeing her in the cage didn’t bother me quite as much anymore. Maybe it would do her good to sleep with the dogs for a while.
“Let’s see how long you can keep up that arrogance. Enjoy our hospitality,” he said with a throaty chuckle. With a nod at me, he turned and headed back to the building.
Marcella didn’t move. She still brandished that one shoe in her hand. Her feet were bare, so she must have lost one shoe along the way.
“You won’t need fancy shoes around here, trust me,” I said, leaning against the bars.
She glanced at her high heel then back at me. “I don’t trust you, or any of the other hillbillies.”
“Hillbillies?” I smirked and calmly took a cigarette from the package in my jeans. “Not a very clever thing to insult the people responsible for your safety.” I lit up the cigarette, never taking my eyes off the girl.
Even her feet were immaculate. Her toes were painted red, probably by some fancy beauty salon in Manhattan. Girls like her didn’t do their own nails, or hair, or anything else. They were used to having people do everything for them. Spoiled to the very core.
I finally tore my eyes away from her feet, not wanting to look like some pervert who was into sucking toes. Marcella was watching me like I had been watching her. Her face was a mask of control, but her eyes couldn’t hide her fear. It didn’t give me the amount of satisfaction I’d hoped for. Her father was who I wanted in my hands.
“I don’t even know your name,” Marcella said as if formal introductions could be expected.
“Maddox—Mad Dog—White.”
I watched her reaction to my name, especially my nickname, closely. If she recognized the name, she didn’t show it, but my middle name definitely caught her attention.
“Mad Dog,” she said, shaking her head with a bitter smile. She flicked her manicured fingers in the direction of the dogs. “So they are yours?”
I scoffed. “You think they call me Mad Dog because I’m mad about dogs?”
“How would I know about biker etiquette, if there even exists any kind of etiquette among your kind.”
I gritted my teeth. “Mad Dog because I know no fear, like a mad dog.”
“Then you’ve never met my father.”
I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I shoved the toe of my black boots into the dirt. If only she knew. She tilted her head in curiosity but I had no intention of telling her more right now.
“Why am I here?” she asked almost haughtily.
I had to admit she surprised me. I’d have thought she’d be begging and crying by now, but so far she kept up the cold mask she was notorious for. Maybe Marcella had more of her father in her than my uncle and I thought. “Like my uncle said, because of your father and the score we want to settle.”
She shook her head. “Whatever you want from him, you won’t get it.”
“We want his life, and I’m sure we’ll get it considering we have his precious daughter.”
Marcella glanced over to the kennel on her left where Satan, Earl’s favorite dog, sat behind the bars and watched her like her next treat. I’d never understood why he’d called a female dog Satan but understanding Earl’s reasoning was wasted time anyway.
She swallowed and dragged her eyes back to me. “My father is the cruelest man you’ll ever have the misfortune of meeting. The only thing he cares about is the Famiglia.”
I chuckled. “You really think I believe that? Your father is good at keeping up his cold-bastard face in public but you and your mother look at him with love. If he was an asshole to you behind closed doors, you wouldn’t look at him like that.”
I’d spent hours looking at photos of Luca with his family in the last few weeks. The internet was full of official portraits, few of which conveyed any honest emotion, but a few unwanted paparazzi photos had revealed Marcella’s and Aria’s feelings toward the man I hated more than anything. By some miracle, they seemed to adore him, and while he always kept his cold-bastard façade up in public, I had a feeling he was at the very least protective and possessive of his daughter and wife. He would act now that we had her.
Marcella shrugged, trying to appear blasé, but she dug her red-painted nails into her upper arms. “If you say so. Many victims love and admire their abusers.”
I took a drag from my cigarette. “Some do. But it is always mixed with fear, fear of displeasing their abuser and being at the receiving end of their wrath.”
“How would you know?” she said sharply. “Did you major in psychology?”
I gave her a tight smile. She didn’t need to know more about my past than the story about my father’s death. “Nah, unlike you, I wasn’t given the privilege of going to college.”
“It can’t be about money. I bet your club makes plenty of money with drugs and guns. It’s a lucrative business.”
“I’m surprised you know more about money than the price tag on your fancy shoes.”
“I never look at price tags,” she said dryly, giving a delicate one-shoulder shrug.
I actually laughed. She had bite. I liked that. I’d expected something else. “So your daddy shares his business stories with you?”
Maybe Marcella could actually be useful as more than bargaining material. Earl was keen on expanding our business but the Famiglia had a tight grip on drugs and guns.
“No, he doesn’t. That’s something everyone with a bit of brain knows.”
I couldn’t tell if she was lying. She had a good poker face. And she was definitely too confident for her own good.
As the silence between us extended, she looked around her cell cautiously.
“In case you’re looking for the toilet, it’s over there.” I pointed at the rusty bucket in the corner.
“I won’t use a bucket,” she said in disgust.
“Then you can just let it go on the floor like the dogs do.”
She looked over to the cage on her left again where Satan was now lying in her kennel, keeping a close eye on Marcella.
The roar of several bikes told me the celebrations of a successful kidnapping would soon begin. With cheers and hoots, several of my club brothers made their way over to the kennels. They clapped my shoulders and checked out the captive with leery eyes and dirty comments. After a few minutes, in which Marcella seemed to have tried to disappear into the wall, they left for the clubhouse.
Marcella gripped her forearms even tighter, glimpsing at me. “So what now?”
I tossed my cigarette on the ground. “You stay here and get comfortable, and I’ll go to my brothers.”
Loud country music blasted through the open windows and a few guys were singing along out of tune. They must have found the moonshine already. The door of the clubhouse burst open and Gunnar stumbled out, his shirt half unbuttoned and a bottle of moonshine in his hands.
“Maddox, you’re missing the party,” he shouted.
“I’m coming!”
“I suppose you’re celebrating my kidnapping?” Marcella asked, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. Today was the first time I saw her hair not perfectly straightened.
“That, and your father’s upcoming painful death once he hands himself over for you.”
Marcella surprised me when she pushed away from the wall and came closer. I narrowed my eyes and straightened from the bars. She was a petite woman, a head shorter than me, but sometimes appearances were deceiving. The smile she sent me was ice cold. “Enjoy the party while it lasts, but don’t make a mistake, the only death you’re celebrating is your own.”
Gray arrived on his bike at that moment.
“Finally, Gray, move your ass over here. Your old man has been looking for you all day,” Gunnar shouted.
Gray gave me a nod as he got off his bike. I shook my head, wondering what he’d been up to again. His eyes settled on Marcella and he grimaced. His sentiments toward the kidnapping hadn’t changed. Mine hadn’t really either but sacrifices had to be made if we wanted our well-deserved revenge.
Gunnar slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the clubhouse, even if Gray looked as if he’d rather spend the evening at the kennels with me.
Marcella’s gaze darted from them to me. “Your brother?”
I tilted my head, realizing she was watching everything closely. I wasn’t sure how she knew we were related. We both had blonde hair but Gray had our mom’s gray eyes and his face was softer than mine. “Half-brother,” I said.
By Fate I Conquer Cora Reilly Read Online PDF Free Download Bookmark this site “www.NovelKoo.Com” for Daily Updates.