Dark Soul Vol. 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

asphalt, but his captor forced him toward the van before he could confirm whether Vince was dead or alive.
    One of the other goons slid the side door open, and his captor pushed him inside, almost climbing on top of him. Then everybody jumped back in the car. Stefano lay face-down on the metal floor, arms twisted behind his back. Plastic restraints zipped closed around his wrists, biting into his flesh. Fuck.
    The van reversed sharply, screeching past a few cars so closely it must’ve taken their paintjobs clean off. The driver made it into calmer areas before a single siren became audible. Damn, but they were good.
    The men stayed silent. The only thing Stefano heard was them reloading their pistols. Why hadn’t they blindfolded him? Did that mean he wasn’t coming back?
    That thought was like a block of ice in his stomach, only heated by the outrage that they’d kill two of his men and snatch him off the street like this. But at least they hadn’t harmed Donata. Maybe they had at least that much honor. He tried to keep his breathing even, but he was shit-scared inside.
    The van stopped, the door slid open.
    Bridge underpass. His captor grabbed him by the arms and almost lifted him up to his feet, then pushed him toward a large car that stood a fair distance away. “Into the trunk,” he ordered.
    Stefano couldn’t fight it, and he sure as hell couldn’t outrun a bullet. No witnesses, nobody around, so nobody would hear him either—or not fast enough to call the cops.
    “Deal with the car,” the goon ordered, and one of the men pulled an object from his jacket, tossed it into the open door and loped easily back toward them with a grin on his face.
    The car tore apart in heat and metal shards just a few moments later.
    The head goon pushed Stefano into the trunk and shut the lid, closing him in darkness.
    Would they just drive him into the lake like this? He fought his restraints, knowing it was futile. There were no sharp edges, no leverage of any kind, nothing he could use to pull the restraints open.
    He swallowed against panic. They wouldn’t have taken me like this if they’d just planned to shoot me. They want me alive.
    Or maybe they plan to torture me first. Make an example.
    Stefano caught himself praying, eyes closed, rattling through the ancient words because they kept him from thinking about what these men could do to him, what he couldn’t stop them from doing. Prayer at least occupied him, helped him not to obsess whether Silvio had picked up Donata by now and brought her safely home.
    Whatever would happen then. Maybe he wouldn’t have any part in that at al .
    The car stopped. Doors clapped shut, and Stefano tensed up.
    He blinked against the sudden brightness when the lid opened and complied when they almost lifted him out of the trunk.
    They were in an empty warehouse, just concrete floor and walls, windows up high. Vacant but for him, the car, and four goons, all of them most likely Russian, standing around him in a loose circle.
    Stefano’s stomach sank low as he looked from one to the other, quick glances that failed to confirm their intentions. None held a weapon, though. Not anymore. Not yet? He still felt the echo from the shots that had killed Vince and Cesare, knew they’d kill him too, if that was their order.
    “Good you could join us,” the pale-eyed goon said, finally. Maybe he was the leader, or possibly spoke the best English.
    Stefano looked him in the eye, unwilling to show fear, even though he was tied up and alone and they’d killed his people. It was all he had. He almost didn’t dare hope they’d respect him if he showed no fear. Their actions weren’t those of men who respected anybody.
    “What do you want?”
    “Sending warning from us to you.” The big guy stepped a little closer. “Leave city, never come back, and you can live.”
    “Or?”
    “We kill everybody.” The sky is blue.
    “Okay. I’ll think about it.” Stefano managed to breathe. He met the