Maybe, after all, there was some power in words.
Whether it was manipulation that Elio was using on her, she didn't know. And she could care less because it brought her peace at that very moment. As much as she feared the man's intentions, it was her action that had brought it upon them.
Her fault.
"Come," Elio whispered in her ear, wrapping his arm around her waist and led her towards the bed once again. He helped her sit on the mattress, then grabbed the glass of water that he had mentioned to her before. "Drink. It will help."
She took it without question. The sensation in her throat grew more when she pressed the cool glass rim against her dry, cracked lips. A single drop of water traced its way inside her mouth and she savored it. Thick saliva lined immediately sapping any moisture that may have entered.
Refreshed, it brought back a little bit of color to her face.
And perhaps she should have been more careful as to what she was doing. Taking a drink that was given her by someone who had just committed an atrocious murder was stupid. Yet after everything she couldn't care less if he wanted to poison her. Not at this moment.
It was still not fine. This whole situation was extremely messed up and in a matter of a few minutes, it visualized all her worst nightmares that were to stay with her forever. What's more, she didn't blame Elio at all. Yes, she was scared of the lack of morals, of what might happen to her. But not directly of him.
That alone changed her perspective on what was right and wrong. She should have known that after twenty years of life. After what she had been through. Yet she was giving in to Elio, unable to stay true to herself. Forgetting the past experiences that had shaped her into who she was today. The morals were blurred right now. Dangerously so.
The man was making her question everything.
And it should have been perceived as manipulation.
Stupid girl. She, in fact, had never learned to distinguish it. She just thought she had. Whether Elio intended for it or not, it stimulated her reaction.
Elio took the glass from her hands when she’d emptied it.
He didn't regret his actions. At least not those that had anything to do with punishing and killing Hunter. The man knew what he had signed up for the moment he'd been approached by Russians. The Bratva was trying to settle in Las Vegas just like many other organizations in the States had before. The city was a goldmine thanks to the many possible ventures. Casinos, nightclubs and hotels. The legal branches that had perspectives to expand. But it was just as well a perfect place for the underground life - brothels, cage fights, cartels. If there was any wish of going into illegal businesses, Las Vegas was offering many ways of covering up those operations.
Now, however, it was minimized as the Las Vegas Famiglia took over big parts of the state of Nevada. And the Bratva had lost their reach along with the money their activities had been bringing them.
So no, he felt no remorse towards Hunter Gordon. He deserved what he got. There were warning signs. The beating didn't help. Then the conversation Elio'd had with him about a possible approach from other organizations. That was his window to confess his sins with a probability of surviving.
"Don't you have a three-strike rule?" Savannah questioned, braving the man.
Megan had mentioned it to her before, right?
Elio smiled darkly. "That is a suggestion rather than a rule. Crimes don't necessarily equal one another. Besides, putting you in danger's way for the second time when I came to collect the money could easily count as a second strike. I just expressed it in one solid punishment."
She regarded him. "If you don't even have rules, what's the point of pretending otherwise?"
"We have rules, baby girl. However, I must say I'm not big on following most of them. I acknowledge them before I throw them away and break them altogether," he stated, shifting his weight.
Thinking back to his childhood, it had always been the case. The punishments he had been served with almost every day didn't change that. They had braved him to face the demons until he was ready to join them. Whatever feelings he was still capable of they had to be worth it. And right now he wished he could turn back time and change one thing - to realize that Savannah's motives when she'd appeared in Father's nightclub were of pure concern. Towards herself, her brother and all the employees hired in the diner. For someone who had limited knowledge about the mafia world, she surely was smart enough to collect the data and make an assumption. A true one.
Once he’d been triggered it was very hard to exhibit self-control. He was in charge of the actions, it was his behavior. Unfortunately, at that moment it felt as if the gas pedal got stuck and in that acceleration, in that momentum, the steering wheel was all jammed up, as well. Just like his mind. It's all fight or flight and it's so disappointingly primitive but he could rarely override it. Teaching Savannah a lesson had seemed like a good idea then. Showing her that he was not to be messed with. It had turned into the worst torture. Not only for her, but for him, too.
He didn't want to hurt her. Not now, not ever. Underneath all of his monstrosity, he admired the commitment the girl had when it came to her brother. She had something that he’d had always wished Mother would gain. Pride.
Diminishing her courage to do what's necessary was a fucking stupid move. One that shouldn't have been made.
One
