Between The Flames ⚜️Il Paradosso Book Two⚜️

Chapter forty-six

The car ride to hell was asphyxiating and unpleasantly awkward. Stuffed in between two large frames that made it difficult to process what awaited at our final destination.
It felt like hours passed by, every minute stretching into an eternity of dissipating hope.

It drifted away the further we withdrew from the city lights and entered a path of darkness, leading to what felt like a never-ending road of foreign land.

The drive ended in the early hours of the morning, the moon casting its final shadows along the cracked pavements and replacing it with light as the vehicle came to a halt.
I squinted, catching a glimpse of a rundown sign that read 'Reggio di Calabria' and fought the gigantic rock forming in the pit of my stomach.

God, no.

"You fuckin' stronzo."

A smirk played on his lips as we entered 'Ndrangeta grounds. "I may not be the perfect villain in your story, Adriana. But these guys" -He pointed to the tinted window, at the armed men aligning the beginning of the dirt road- "They would kill to have your husband cross these lands. It's pure bliss to the raging beast he so meticulously unleashed upon them decades ago. A vendetta they're still awaiting to this very day."

The driver exited the vehicle, conversing with the masked men. They observed the hummer, taking in the license plate before they cleared the path.

We had reached our designated location. We'd been traveling for eleven agonizing hours and my body felt numb by the time Igor swung the door open to let the air in.
He wrapped a bulky arm around my midsection, dragging my weight out of the hummer.

A small cabin resided at the end of a steep road, embedded into a wooded area.

The place was a mixture of filth and disaster. The hardwood floors squeaked beneath my feet as Igor pushed the door open and shoved me forward.

A streak of sunshine peeked into the musty space through the single window that was stained with black tar and heavy residue, preventing it from see through.

Not only was Igor a blubber of flesh who thrived in the field of grumpiness but he also offered the worst form of hospitality that any female would have dreamt of.
Luckily, he never got the chance to indulge in his infatuation with oral care or he would have made the scariest looking dentist. I was certain he could crack a skull with two fingers.

He deprived me of all relevance and ignored the slightest requests for basic necessities.

Igor was sore around the eyes and not a pleasant sight to worship.
I wondered if he had ever gotten much appreciation for the dedicated work he displayed on the brass table before me.

"Pick one."

I looked at him and then glanced over at the tools he was glowing over, like they were his greatest possessions.

"None of the above." I sucked in a strained breath of air when he lifted a set of plowers, waving them in front of me. I shook my head.

He frowned, not satisfied with my answer.

I liked my fucking teeth exactly the way they were.

"Fingernails or toenails?" he asked. I blinked, eyeing my fresh pedicure. The polish was a bright red, matching the color of my lipstick. What was left of it.