Chapter 25 The Lash
Nico POV
Motherfucker. He was playing the sympathy card. And by the way most of the men nodded and answered in agreement, it was fucking working.
Damon was forcing my hand, putting me in a corner where I had no choice, unless I wanted to show weakness which in this case, I didn’t
I couldn’t afford to show any kind of weakness, not when everyone came tonight to see me play the part of the new Boss.
I glanced at Uncle Lucas who gave me a slight nod, confirming that I had no choice.
“Fine.” I didn’t look at my brother. “Five lashes.”
“Ten,” Damon countered, his eyes sparkling with malice. The solid determination on his face, and the clear support of the crowd left me no choice but to concede.
With a deep sigh, I lifted my hand gesturing for him to go ahead. Another round of cheers erupted, the sound of glass clinking together echoing in my ears like nails on blackboard.
As I watched every face around me, beaming with excitement at the prospects of a woman getting beaten a chill ran down my spine. We were fucking savages. I was a fucking savage.
I gritted my teeth as I watched Damon remove his belt, folding it in half and snapping the straps together, sounding like a gunshot.
Lila squirmed, more blood running down the side of her mouth from the rope cutting into her flesh. Damon stalked around her, circling her while never taking his hungry, vicious, black eyes off her. It was there, on his face, his intention to hurt her as much as humanly possible.
I’ve never seen this amount of hate, this intense need to harm and destroy in Damon before. It’s like he flipped a switch, and went from just a mere arrogant pain in the ass to a resolute warmonger.
But did I not have the same intention when all this started? Did I not still have that intention brewing inside my gut, to destroy and harm Lila Falcone?
I moved through the crowd unintentionally stepping in next to Uncle Lucas. He didn’t say anything, but I felt the apprehension radiate from his stance.
Damon came up behind lila, placing his hands on her shoulders, whispering something into her ear.
I could just imagine what kind of disgusting, perverted things he was saying to her. Her eyes closed, more tears streaming down her face. I’ve never seen a person cry so much.
The sound of fabric being torn resounded around us. Damon had torn the entire rag off her body, leaving her completely and utterly naked.
A slight twinge throbbed against my ribs, but I ignored it. I also ignored the urge to walk up to Damon, punch him in the face, and then carry Lila out of there, to my room…where I would be the one dealing the lashes…right before I fucked her.
My heart stuttered as Damon gave a step back, lifting his hand in the air. And then the sound of the first lash caused my ears to wring. Lila moaned with the rope in her mouth, the chains above her rattling and clinking together as she swayed from the force.
The second lash was even louder, Lila scream muffled by the rope. Then the third blow fell. The more Damon struck her, the darker his eyes became, his features hard and unyielding. He loved it, and the worst part, I couldn’t blame him.
All I could think about was whipping her ivory skin into a gorgeous shade of red, to give her pain…but for an entirely different reason.
Four…five…
Lila screams and moans got softer and softer, her head no longer held up high. It seemed like she had somehow cut off from what was happening to her, like she no longer registered the pain being inflicted on her body.
The very unwelcome twinge inside my chest intensified with every lash. I bit the inside of my mouth, desperately fighting the urge to stop it all. Her soft cries and whimpers, the way her body swayed, and the sound of the chains complaining above her had me feeling like I could tear my own goddamn skin off or Damon.
Six…seven…
“You need to stop this, nicy.” Uncle Lucas turned toward me. “Stop this now.”
I didn’t think. I just acted by storming through the crowd toward where Lila hung like a rag doll from the roof.
“Stop!”
Damon hand paused mid-air, and I grabbed the belt from his grip. “That’s enough.”
“You said ten.” Damon dark eyes glared at me, malevolence pouring from his gaze like molten lava.
“I said five. You wanted ten. Seven is a great middle ground.” Damon leaned closer. “Do you dare show weakness in front of all these men, big brother?” Another challenge.
I moved even closer, gritting through my teeth, “It’s not weakness I’m showing, little brother. I’m showing my dominion…over you.”
His eyes instantly burned, his cheeks blood red from fury, and I tasted the goodness of victory.
“Now back the fuck off, Damon.”
After a few seconds of never taking our eyes off each other I wasn’t sure whether Damon would back down or not. But then he did.
Of course in typical Damon style he had to make sure that he got the last laugh. He pulled out his cellphone, and aimed the camera at Lila.
“Smile, slut,” he taunted, before his flash started going berserk with all the photos he was taking.
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Having a little photo-shoot,” he looked at me and shrugged “you know, to send to daddy-dearest.”
Well fuck. Damon might be a motherfucker, but right now he was being a real sly, clever motherfucker I had to give him that.
As soon as he felt like he had enough pictures and stepped away, I started on getting Lila down from the chains. I had no idea what it was, but there was something inside me urging me, fueling me to do it as quickly as possible.
Uncle Lucas came up to help, and when her wrists were finally free, she collapsed like dead weight. Before she hit the ground, I swept her up into my arms and cradled her against my chest.
I glanced at Uncle Lucas, and he nodded. “Get her out of here. I’ll take care of the guests.”
“Thank you.”
Carefully I made my way out of the dining hall, carrying Lila seemingly lifeless body in my arms. The corners of her mouth were cut and bruised, and I didn’t even want to think what her back looked like. Damon didn’t hold back. He was merciless with each and every lash he dealt.
That twinge that thumped against my ribs earlier was now a pounding ache, and for the life of me I didn’t understand it.
Where was my hate? Where was my hunger for revenge? Where was my need to break this woman now that she seemed battered and beaten with no guarantee that she could be mended?
Where was Nico Moretti now?