"S-Sean," Milo whispered. He wished he was dreaming.
How... how could Sean find him?
Sean sighed. He was a large man around thirty years old, and his shadow covered Milo. He reached out and grabbed Milo’s arm. His grip was tight and painful.
"You shouldn’t have done this stupid thing, Milo," Sean said. His voice was calm, which was worse than if he had been angry. "You know what will happen now."
Milo began to struggle. He didn’t care about being brave anymore. Tears stread down his face.
"Please, Sean! Please let go! He’ll kill this ti!"
"Nero will kill you, or he will kill ," Sean said. He didn’t look at Milo’s face. "I am not going to risk my life for you."
Milo struggled. "No, please no!"
Sean moved quickly. He shoved Milo onto his shoulder and carried him. Milo fought and kicked, but Sean was too strong. He was thrown into the back of a black car, and the door was locked.
"Sean, please!" Milo was still begging.
Sean didn’t speak. He was behind the wheel when a man approached the car, and he rolled down the window.
Jojo.
Milo’s eyes widened. "Jojo! Please help ! Please!" he shouted.
Jojo just glanced at him before looking at Sean again.
Milo’s mouth fell open when he saw Sean give the man so money.
"Jojo?" Milo felt a painful sense of betrayal.
Jojo smiled, looking at the money in his hand. "Thanks, man! He’s such a good boy. You should let him live."
Sean stared intently at Jojo. "Don’t ever talk about this to anyone, or your head will be the target."
Jojo raised his hand and walked backward.
Milo felt his whole body tremble—with fear, anger, and frustration. What on earth could make people so evil?
The drive back to the Hartley estate felt like a funeral.
When they arrived, Sean didn’t take Milo to his room. He dragged him straight to Nero’s study.
The heavy doors opened. The room was filled with the sll of expensive tobacco and whiskey. Nero was sitting at a large desk. His father, Andro, was there, along with several other n in suits. They were in the middle of a serious eting.
Sean pushed Milo beside Nero’s sofa.
Milo hit the floor on his knees. He was trembling violently.
"I found him," Sean said.
Nero stopped talking. He leaned back in his sofa and looked at Milo. A slow, dark smile spread across his face.
"Welco back, Milo," Nero said. "Wait there for while I finish with these gentlen. You know how I like you to be when I’m busy."
Milo’s hands were shaking. He knew exactly what Nero ant. He didn’t look at the other n. He didn’t look at Andro. He stood up with trembling fingers and began to remove his clothes. He let them fall in a heap on the floor until he was kneeling there, completely exposed, just as he always was.
Andro Hartley looked at him and sighed. "What is this? Nero, can’t you be serious? This eting is important."
"Oh, Dad," Nero said, his eyes never leaving Milo’s body. "You promised you wouldn’t get involved with him. He isn’t bothering . In fact, he helps focus."
Andro rubbed his temples. "Fine. But we need to settle things with Portello. We have invested a lot of money in those docks. Now that Nicolo is dead, everything is a ss. This Salvatore is a crazy man. He’s violent and unpredictable. We need their alliance if we want to survive. Or Gallahan will take the chance!"
"I will take care of it," Nero said. "I promise."
The n continued to talk about millions of dollars and shipping routes. They talked about deaths and power.
Milo stayed on his knees on the cold marble floor. He felt the eyes of the other n on him, but he stared at a spot on the floor.
He wished the eting would last forever. He knew that as soon as those n left, his real nightmare would begin.
Finally, the eting ended. The n walked out, so of them glancing at Milo with pity, others with disgust.
As soon as the door clicked shut, the silence in the room beca sharp.
Nero stood up.
"Bring him to my room!" he ordered.
Milo trembled as he was dragged all the way to Nero’s room.
Milo groaned softly as his body was pushed into the middle of the room. He bowed his head and remained motionless, praying to anyone to help him.
Because he was sure today was the day he would die.
"You actually ran," Nero said. His voice was quiet, which was worse than shouting.
He walked around the desk. He didn’t look calm anymore. He looked like a madman.
"You really had the guts to run away from ?" Nero asked. His voice was a low hiss. "After everything I have done for you?"
Milo flinched and closed his eyes.
Nero reached for a heavy wooden photo fra on his desk. He swung it with all his strength.
The corner of the fra hit Milo’s shoulder.
"Nnghh!" Milo held back a scream and fell to the side. His body trembled severely.
"I feed you! I give you a place to stay! And you betray like a dog!" Nero shouted.
Nero didn’t stop. He hit Milo again and again. The glass in the fra shattered, cutting into Milo’s skin. Milo curled into a ball on the floor, using his arms to protect his head.
He didn’t try to move. He knew from experience that moving made Nero angrier. He didn’t say he was sorry because Nero hated apologies.
"You son of a bitch!" Nero yelled.
Milo groaned as the fra broke apart in his trembling hands. His back was bleeding. His arms were covered in dark bruises.
Nero wasn’t finished. He reached for a ceramic vase on a side table. He smashed it against Milo’s ribs. Milo felt the air leave his lungs. The pain was so intense that his vision went black for a second.
It was so painful. Milo groaned and started crying.
Milo reached out, his fingers trembling as he grabbed the bottom of Nero’s trousers. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t help it.
"Please," Milo sobbed. "P-please... I’m sorry! Please... stop!"
Nero didn’t stop. He kicked Milo in the chest, knocking him backward.
"You’re not sorry yet, bitch," Nero said, breathing hard. "But by the ti I’m done with you tonight, you’ll wish you had died!"
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