POV: Adrik
The smell of sweat, blood, and damp concrete hit me the moment I got to the club’s basement.
Matteo was slumped in the chair, his wrists bound behind his back with coarse rope, blood trailing from his busted lip and the gash above his brow.
Sergei and Yuri stood on either side of him, breathing heavily, their knuckles red.
“It didn't take long for him to start crying,” Sergei muttered, wiping his hands on a rag. “Like a b***h, he screamed the second we broke his ribs.”
Matteo groaned, trying to lift his head, but I stepped forward and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me.
“Eyes on me.”
He blinked slowly, blood pooling in his mouth. “I—I didn’t want to hurt her.”
My jaw flexed. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have played her.”
I let go of his chin with a shove. He whee
