Read My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 12 "Confrontation" for Free Online Page A

silent, making me smile.
    I closed my eyes, knowing if I survived this no one
was going to take Thierry away from me.
    Not
God
    Or Satan
    Matteo
    Or Gabriel
    Because
the boy was mine
    And
I would kill to keep him.

 
     
    4
    RITA
    Careful not to wake Frano, I eased
out of bed, wishing it wasn’t so dark, so I could see him one last time. No, it
wouldn’t be the last time, because I was going to return to him— no matter
what. Christo wasn’t going to destroy my life again. Instead, I was going
to destroy his, and in the most painful way possible.
    I dressed quickly and grabbed my stashed
weapons, wary of waking Frano. A minute later, I was heading down the
passageway, leaving behind my sleeping prince, Frano not even stirring. I
stopped partway down the staircase, noticing a dark figure below. It was the
scarred soldier, who always stood guard there.
    I resumed my descent down the
staircase, stopping a few feet from him, his question locking me in place.
    “What are you doing?” he asked. His
voice was raspy—and full of menace. But he didn’t scare me. He could be ten
feet tall and I would still take him down, especially if he tried to stop me
from saving my brother.
    “Answer me,” he said. “What are you
doing?”
    “Going to the gym,” I replied.
    “At...” he pressed his watch,
illuminating it, “...one a.m. in the morning?”
    “Not to work out, to sleep. Frano
snores,” I lied. “There’s a spare bed in the gym.”
    “I didn’t hear any snoring.”
    “That’s because you’re downstairs.”
    “It doesn’t matter, return to his
room.”
    “No, I’ve been given permission to
roam the house freely, so you can’t stop me.”
    “Is that so?”
    “Yes, and you know it.”
    “You’re a rude woman.”
    “No, I’m not, I was stating a
fact.”
    “Blunt then, like all you
Americans.”
    “I’m Italian.”
    He sniffed. “Then I’m African.”
    “I am Italian. I’m a Salvi,”
I said, not knowing why I had to prove my nationality.
    “Then why don’t you have an Italian
accent?”
    “I was basically brainwashed by the
FBI.”
    “Or the Black Russian. He can
eliminate an accent. If I was a betting man, I’d say you were trained by him.”
    “Well, you’re wrong; I’ve never met
the man.”
    “I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me if
you had.”
    “Why are you questioning me? Everyone
in this household knows I’m FBI.”
    “You move and look like a Black Viper,
and you fight like one too. My bet is you’re a double agent.”
    I screwed up my face. “What a load
of shit.”
    “Only from your mouth. So enjoy
your freedom, Viper, because tomorrow I’ll be letting my boss know what you are.”
    “Whatever, I don’t care.”I stalked
towards the passage, the man’s words pure imagination. I knew of the Vipers.
The women had worked for the Black Russian as assassins and spies, until they
had a falling out with him. I might have fitted their profile with my fighting
skills and looks, but that was as far as it went. Plus, I’d never met the Black
Russian, and right now, I didn’t want to. As far as I was concerned, the FBI
could get another idiot to go after the man, because I was no longer interested
in completing my task, or even being an agent. All I cared about was killing Christo,
saving my brother and Thierry, as well as capturing the sick priest and Matteo.
Once that was completed, I wanted to climb back into bed with Frano and fuck
his brains out for the rest of our lives.
    I entered the gym, heading straight
for the wardrobe. I searched its interior for the hidden trapdoor, finding a
metal button a minute later, which I pressed. The floor opened downward, revealing
a space large enough for a grown man to climb through. I eased myself through
it, descending a ladder to a dark cellar. I pulled out the penlight I’d stolen
from Frano and clicked it on, realizing the slave cells were on the other side
of the wall.
    I started searching the room for another
way out. There were