Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 38 Adelina

My father’s voice carried through the walls, an echo to the sound of it over the speaker behind the one-way mirror. Massimo Parisi sounded smooth and calculated, his words dripping with the same manipulative charm he always used to get what he wanted.

And Sas.

My husband.

The man I’d given my body to and my vows of loyalty.

Sas was falling for it, being drawn in by the promises of power, of control, and of vengeance. It was like watching someone slowly walk into an invisible trap.

But I saw it clearly. Every thread my father was weaving pulled tighter around Sas, dragging him further away from me, further from the MC. And I wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen.

My stomach twisted as their conversation shifted, my father’s voice calm, too calm, and then I heard Caterina’s name.

Caterina.

My sixteen-year-old sister.

I’d na?vely believed my marriage into the MC would stop him from using her that way. But the whole time, he’d been pulling her, pulling both of us into his schemes. A singular spark floated down and landed on me—the powder keg.

I snapped.

My pulse hammered in my ears, and I stormed out of the observation room and into the Red Room.

“You leave my sister out of your fucked-up schemes,” I shouted.

Sas turned, startled, but my father didn’t flinch. He smiled a cold, condescending grin that made my skin crawl.

“Mia figlia,” he said smoothly, his voice lilting like he was speaking to a child, trying to soothe me from a nightmare.

So many times he’d done that when I was young and woke terrified in the night. But the singsong behind those two little words sat like rocks in my gut now.

My father spread his palms as though welcoming me. “How many times must I explain business to you, daughter. Caterina will do what is necessary for the family. Like you did.”

“Fuck your business,” I spat, stepping forward.

He tsked. “Such a foul mouth now.”

“Fuck you if you think you can use us like pawns. I’m not letting you manipulate Sas, and I sure as hell won’t let you ruin Caterina’s life.”

His eyes darkened before a wolfish smile crept back onto his face. He moved toward me slowly, a predator stalking its prey.

“There is no one to stop me, daughter, including you.” His voice sounded low and dangerous. “Your defiance means so little here, in my world.”

“It means everything. To me. To Sas. To Rafe.” Thank God I didn’t have to include Graff in that list.

“I’ll die before I let you ruin them.”

He was in front of me now, his breath hot on my face. “That can be arranged.”

Before I could react, he nodded to Alessio who’d been waiting in the shadows. There was a reason he’d always been called the Wraith. Seeing my father’s enforcer looming over me with malice in his every move made the world spin.

In one swift motion, Alessio grabbed me, his hands like iron as he yanked my wrists behind my back. I struggled, kicking, trying to break free, but it was like fighting a wall.

“Let me go!” I screamed, my voice hoarse.

Alessio didn’t even flinch, and his grip on me was unyielding, like iron clamps around my wrists. I thrashed, kicked, twisted—anything to break free—but he barely budged. Panic surged in my chest, wild and desperate, as I fought against him.

“Let me go!” I snarled, trying to wrench my arms from his hold.

He was too strong. His muscles didn’t give, and the more I fought, the tighter his grip became.

“Alessio, please.” I whimpered. “Help me save Cat from all this.”

Something crossed over his eyes before he hardened them again and focused on the job at hand. My father’s orders, surely. He tied the rope around my wrists with cold precision, binding me like it was the easiest thing in the world. I jerked and struggled, pulling against the restraints, but they only bit deeper into my skin, searing pain into my wrists.

“Stop it!” I yelled, my voice ragged with anger and fear. “You can’t do this!”

But Alessio ignored me, his face set in that emotionless mask, and then my father was there, his cold hands grasping my bound wrists.

“No!” I screamed, digging my heels into the floor as he dragged me toward the hook hanging from the ceiling.

I kicked out, aiming for anything that would stop him—his shin, his knee—but he sidestepped easily, still pulling me forward, as calm as ever.

I yanked my arms, twisting my body to the side, hoping for some leverage, some chance to slip free, but it was like fighting a machine. My father didn’t even seem to notice my struggle.

His grip never loosened.

“Please, stop!” My voice cracked, but he didn’t care.

With a smooth motion, he looped the rope over the hook and yanked it down. My body lifted upward, my feet leaving the ground as the rope tightened. My arms screamed in pain as my body was pulled taut, toes barely brushing the floor.

I gasped, every muscle strained, but he worked calmly, like it was nothing more than tying a knot on a fishing line.

He looped the rope over the hook and yanked hard. My feet left the floor, toes barely brushing the ground as I was suspended in the air, arms pulled tight above my head.

“Sas,” I pleaded, but he was standing beside Ghost, his shoulders hunched and head hanging. Bloody with what he’d spilled from Miguel and now Ghost.

I twisted and pain shot through my shoulders. A ragged gasp escaped my throat, and I fought back the tears that stung my eyes. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

Massimo stood back, admiring his work with a cold detachment. “You always were too impulsive, mia figlia,” he said softly. “You should learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

My body burned, every muscle screaming from the strain, but I clenched my jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me whimper.

Finally, Sas roared. The sound ripped through the room, pure rage as he lunged forward, but Alessio was faster. He grabbed a tool from the table—a straight razor, sleek and gleaming in the low light—and held it up, his eyes never leaving Sas.

Sas thrashed, trying to get to me, but Alessio was patient, calm. He waited, and when Sas moved too much, he struck. A quick slash of the razor left a thin, angry line of blood along Sas’s arm.

Alessio murmured something to Sas, his voice low and cold. “... or I’ll do more than that.” Something in the tone hinted that Alessio might not want this to continue.

Sas didn’t listen. He lunged again, but Alessio was ready. In a fluid motion, he grabbed Sas’s wrist, wrenching it behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The razor hovered dangerously close to Sas’s throat now, the blade gleaming in the low amber light.

I screamed. “No! Stop!”

My father’s laugh sliced through the air like a knife. He enjoyed watching us suffer, watching Sas bleed, watching me writhe in pain. He’d always been sadistic like this, but I’d never been on the receiving end of his cold ire. Until now.

“Adelina,” Massimo said softly, stepping closer to me, his fingers brushing my cheek as I dangled from the rope. “You’ve never understood, have you? Power isn’t something you take. It’s something you earn. I spent years earning mine from Don Gambino.”

I thrashed in the air, a slab of meat on a hook. The need to free myself felt raw, but the ropes held tight, biting into my skin.

“You don’t need to do this,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “Please...”

But his smile only widened. He reached for my face again, but before he touched me, the door crashed open.

Rafe.

He stormed in like a hurricane, his eyes wild with fury. He saw me first, hanging from the ceiling, and his face contorted with rage. He didn’t hesitate as he shoved my father aside and grabbed for the ropes, his fingers fumbling as he tried to free me.

“Rafe,” I breathed. I’d either been wrong about him falling under my father’s command or seeing me like this snapped him out. I couldn’t worry over which was the case. I was just elated that he’d come to save me now.

But I was still dangling, still suspended, my body straining with every movement.

Massimo stumbled back.

His laughter echoed in my ears.

Rafe pulled at the knots, trying to get me down.

“Rafe!” I gasped, not really knowing what to say as my vision blurred with the unbearable pain in my shoulders.

Behind me, Alessio said in a calm and steady tone, “One more move, and the VP dies.”