My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 15 "Finale" (3 page)

“What accident?”

“The one that killed my foster
parents. We were on our way to a log cabin when my foster father lost control
of the car. One second we were careening down a hill, the next I woke up with
amnesia.” My mood soured. “And I think that was when the FBI started fucking
with my memories, telling me things that weren’t true. I was also getting severe
headaches from the trauma to my head, so the doctors filled me with drugs to
cope with it. I eventually got better, but by then I believed all the bullshit
they filled my head with. Then, I came back here and the missing pieces in my
memory began to fall into place. I remembered you, Jagger, what we did
together, my parents—but
not
the Black Russian, other than that one
sighting.”

“Then why did he specifically ask
for someone who resembled you? How did he know I was getting you?”

“Maybe I’m his type of woman, I
don’t fucking know. Or maybe he knew an FBI agent was coming after him and
wanted to get the jump on me. It’s suspected he has informants in the bureau.”
My face fell. “Shit, that makes sense. He might know I’m the FBI agent.” I
shook that thought out of my head. “No, he can’t, since Christo told him I was
Sophia Salvi, not Rita Kovak.”

“Enough with the convoluted plots,
you’re giving me a headache.”

“Why are you being an asshole?!”

He breathed out. “When you’ve been
whipped to an inch of your life, try to see how nice you are then.”

“You walked right into that
whipping. You should never have come here without any backup. You’re supposed
to be a Don, not some lovesick fool who thinks with his dick instead of his
brain.”

His hazel eyes flashed angrily at
me. “I was thinking with my heart, not my cock. I was willing to give up my
life for you, yet you insult me?”

“What you did was illogical.”

“It wasn’t, Christo would’ve killed
you.”

“And he would’ve killed
you
.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my life,
so that’s a mute point.”

I stared at him, taken aback by his
words. “Why the hell not? You seemed perfectly happy before I took off.”

“Because you were still with me.”

“You moved on just fine seven years
ago when I disappeared.”

“I did not!”

I jolted, surprised by his vicious
expression. “Okay, just calm down.”

“No, I will not fucking calm down!”
His face twisted further. “After you disappeared, I started drinking heavily. I
walked through life looking through the bottom of a bottle. I was a cunt to
everyone, most of all to Angelica. What I said to the Rossos was bullshit, because
I
was
responsible for her death. Although I didn’t make her swallow those
pills, I was so cruel she probably didn’t think she had any other option. I
ruined her life, not to mention countless other women’s lives. Then my
household got taken over, my father murdered, and Jagger brutalized.” He
breathed out. “And not to forget what I did to Alberto. I don’t even fucking
like Jagger, yet I stabbed someone I loved more than myself for him. And if you
think I give a
merda
about living after what I did to Alberto, then you
don’t know what love is.”

“I do know what love is and Alberto
doesn’t deserve yours after he betrayed you and savaged Jagger. He was out of
control. You didn’t have a choice; you had to take him out.”

“Everyone has a fucking choice;
it’s just a matter of whether they choose the correct one—which I didn’t. I
caused Alberto to turn out the way he did by constantly turning a blind eye.
Yet, instead of helping him, I murdered him. My father helped me get better
after I went off the rails. He sent me to dry out. He knew what to do because
he was a real Don. Me? I rush into things without thinking. I just do, then
regret it later.”

“Alberto raped and brutalized
Jagger. That doesn’t require drying out, that deserves death.”

“By my hand? Can you imagine
stabbing your own brother like I did?”

“My brother isn’t a rapist.”

“If he was, would you have done it?”

“No, I would’ve phoned the cops. But
it doesn’t make what you did wrong, and you shouldn’t be so careless with your
life because of it.”

“You’re still not getting into my
head.”

“Maybe, but I want to understand
you, which won’t happen if you go and get yourself killed by doing stupid
things. You’re stronger and smarter than this. That is one thing I do know
about you.”

“I’m just a man.”

“One that I love. So, the next time
you want to do something stupid, stop and think before jumping in head first.”

“Fuck, you’re a hypocrite. You did
the exact same thing by walking into Christo’s hands.”

“Okay, we’re both fools, just with
good intentions.” I leaned forward and kissed him.

He jerked his head back. “What was
that for?”

“To make up.”

“One kiss won’t do it, I’m too
angry.”

I exhaled loudly. “You’re the most infuriating
man I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re the most irritating
woman I’ve met.” He grimaced, pain radiating off him. I could see some of his back—his
red, raw skin looking excruciating.

“I love you regardless,” I said,
giving him another kiss. He didn’t move his head this time, although he didn’t
reciprocate either. But I continued kissing his lips, wanting to distract him
from the pain. I also desperately needed the contact, the thought of almost seeing
him die twisting my gut. Right now, all I wanted to do was to take him home and
help him heal from his wounds, and to not ever leave him again.

His lips finally started moving
against mine. I pushed my tongue inside his mouth, Frano letting me in. For
several seconds I got lost in the kiss, forgetting about all the pain I’d
endured from the beating and whipping.

Noise made me pull back. The
soldier entered through the doorway, holding a box. Ercole walked over to Frano
and knelt down behind him, the look on his face clarifying how severe Frano’s
wounds were. Removing a bottle from the box, he tipped some liquid onto a piece
of cloth, then started dabbing at Frano’s wounds. Frano gasped in response, his
eyes going wide.

“What are you putting on him?” I
asked.

“Iodine. It’ll hurt like a bastard,
but his wounds need to be cleaned.”

After what felt like forever, the
soldier finally stopped cleaning Frano’s back and started bandaging it. Once he
was finished, he did the same for me, but much quicker, my few whip marks paper
cuts in comparison to Frano’s torn up back.

“He’ll scar, but you won’t,” Ercole
said, rising to his feet. “Not that it’ll make much difference after tomorrow.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Ignoring my question, he headed out
of the barn.

I refocused on Frano, who had his
eyes closed. “What are you thinking about?”

“Sasha.”

“The Black Guard?”

“
Sì.
I gave him my word he wouldn’t
return to the Black Russian.”

“You can’t control everything.”

He opened his eyes. “Which is why I
should never have made the promise. Now, he’ll go right back to where he was
trying to escape from, just without his brother. The only good thing is that I
don’t think the Black Russian knows he tried to escape. I led the freak to
believe I was responsible for keeping Sasha in my house.”

“The Landi will stop Christo from
getting to him.”

“They’ve pulled out.”

“You can’t do anything about it,
then. Anyway, he’s the Black Russian’s lover, so he’ll be fine.”

“He doesn’t want to be his lover,
he’s straight. Some of the things he told me about … they were truly horrifying.
That’s probably why him and Jagger got on so well together: they have a lot in
common. Sometimes extreme beauty can be a curse.”

“You got that right,” the soldier
said, reentering the barn. Stopping behind Frano, Ercole pulled out a syringe
and placed it to Frano’s thigh.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled at
him.

“Sedating him, like Christo said.
It’ll just make him sleep.” He injected the syringe into Frano’s leg. Once
done, he focused on me, his stare intense.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing.” He pushed up and moved
behind me as Frano’s eyelids started to close, the sedative taking over.

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing
Ercole pull out another syringe. “I don’t need an injection, I want to stay
awake.”

“I don’t give a
merda
what
you want.”

“What’s your problem with me? And
don’t say the pissing and name-calling. You were glaring at me well before
that.”

“I don’t like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

He removed the syringe’s cap. “I
do, more than you realize. Two people I loved died all because they helped you.”

“What the hell are you talking
about?”

“Your foster parents. They were my auntie
and uncle.”

My eyes widened. “That’s where I
heard your name. They mentioned you.”

“And they’d still be alive and talking
about me if you didn’t run from your Russian lover
.
”

“I didn’t get them killed; they
died in a car crash, one that I was in.”

“You were going up to their log
cabin that day.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I sent the message that
warned them an assassin was coming. Do you know what the Black Russian does to
people who run from him?”

“What?”

“He kills them himself or orders
their hits. My
famiglia
get paid to protect people, some of them having
escaped the Black Russian. We relocate them, but he still manages to track some
of them down. One woman was shot in the head, another was killed in a car
explosion, and a man was stabbed to death, while he attempted to kill you by having
my uncle’s brakes cut.”

“Your auntie and uncle didn’t
relocate me because of the Black Russian; they did it so Christo couldn’t find
me. Also, the brakes were perfectly fine when I left on that trip with them.”

“Did you make a stop-off?”

“Yeah, for lunch,” I stopped
talking, realizing someone could’ve tampered with the brakes.

“It would’ve happened then,” he
said, confirming what I was thinking. “While you were eating, the assassin
would’ve been cutting your brake line.”

My mind went to that day. I’d
walked out of the little restaurant with my foster parents and had gotten into the
car without a second thought, thinking we were just going on vacation. I
remembered my foster father smiling as he drove up the mountain, the smile
leaving his face as he headed down the other side, the brakes not working.

“If your auntie and uncle helped
all those people escape the Black Russian,” I said, “he probably ordered the
hit for them. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“No, he wanted
you
dead,” Ercole
pushed the syringe into my leg, “which you will be soon.”

“Are you poisoning me?”

“No, I want you to see the Black
Russian again.”

“Why?”

“So you can kill him.”

My eyelids drifted down, the
sedative starting to work. “I wouldn’t do that unless he hurt Frano,” I mumbled.

“You won’t have a choice.”

3

JAGGER

The head agent’s gaze returned to Teodora.
“Take her to one of the cells downstairs,” he said to the blond agent. “Find
out everything you can about the Spinelli; I want to know who’s controlling the
bomb and their location.”

“I don’t know anything about it,”
Teodora said, looking terrified.

“We’ll see about that.” He waved
his hand up in the air. “Take her.”

The blond agent bent forward to
grab her. She screamed and latched onto Camila, who instantly wrapped her arms
around her niece, yelling at the man to back off.

“Detach them!” the head agent
snapped.

Another agent went for Camila. I shot
in front of him, taking a hold of her arms. “Let her go, Camila. If you don’t,
they’ll force you to.”

“No, she’s a child!”

“Bullshit, she’s twenty-one, so
stop babying her.”

“There’s no point in them
questioning her, she doesn’t know anything.”

“I disagree,” the head agent cut
in. “So, let my agent do his job and I promise she won’t get hurt.”

Camila slowly let go of her niece. The
blond agent held out a hand for Teodora to take, but she continued to cling
onto Camila. “Go with him, Teo,” Camila said.

“I’m scared,” Teodora replied.

“I know, baby girl, but you have to
go. You don’t have a choice.”