Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I put a hand on Benny’s shoulder, then tip his chin to the side and look at the marks I left on his neck. Fuck. I’ve never hurt him like this. He, Red, and Sonny are my brothers, same as Lito.
“I’m going to tell all of you this now.” I finish the bottle. “Lucretia is just as untouchable as I am, as any of you are. I thought I made that clear to my men when I brought her home, but I guess the message didn’t get through.” I toss the bottle into the trash by my desk. “Call all the soldiers. I want them here in no more than an hour. Only leave enough men at our operations to keep them secure. I want the rest of them to witness what happens to anyone who tries to hurt my family.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Sonny, phone in hand, hesitates. “It’s been a rough week.”
“I’m always up for vengeance.” I stride out, down the hall and out the back door as Sonny starts barking orders into his phone.
Even in the dead of night, it doesn’t take half an hour for my soldiers to amass.
The horses in the stables neigh and stamp nervously, unsure of why so many humans are crowding around and murmuring furtively.
“With me,” I call and open the door to the sauna.
Dozens of footfalls echo behind me as I go, my men following my orders. And if they weren’t already completely obedient to me, they will be shortly. Their lives will depend on it.
Geno is tied up near the back wall, his bare feet barely making contact with the grate as the shackles on his wrists go straight up to the ceiling. He hangs like a piece of meat ready to be butchered, his naked skin already taking on a yellow pallor.
My men line up against the wall, some of them two and three deep, and all their eyes are on me as I pace back and forth.
Geno whimpers, the gag in his mouth keeping his bullshit at bay.
When Sonny appears on the stairs and nods, I know everyone’s present.
I stop in the middle of the room and look out at the faces, at the terrified eyes, at the wrinkles of worry, and the mouths already drawn down in horror.
“I shouldn’t have to do this.” I crack my knuckles. “But I want to.” I unbutton my shirt, then pull it off and walk to the table of instruments Red laid out for me at the side of the room. I drape my shirt toward the back of it, away from any gore.
I choose a screwdriver—a large, blunt flathead—and return to the center of the room. It’s so quiet. No one seems to be breathing. The only sounds are Geno’s whimpering and the pitter-pattering of his piss as it hits the grate.
“The man behind me thought he could steal from me.” I slap the screwdriver into my palm. “He thought he could take something that wasn’t his to take.” The tension inside me is tight enough to snap a steel fucking bar. “He touched my wife.”
The soldiers seem to compress backwards, cringing away.
“He put his hands on her. She fought him. He’s bleeding right now from what she did. Lucretia Milani is no fairy fucking princess. She’s a fighter. She won’t allow anyone to take advantage of her or this family. She’s proven that. Now, I need each of you to prove to me that you understand me. I need you to show me that you know the consequences of trying to take what’s mine, of laying a finger on my wife, of doing anything that dishonors me or my queen.” I walk to the man nearest me and hand him the screwdriver.
He takes it with a shaking hand.
“No one is allowed to kill him!” I yell. “That belongs to me. No heart shots, no head shots. You can bleed him with a stomach hit, but no kidney or liver.” I step back and gesture toward Geno. “Get to it. Prove your loyalty to me and my wife.”
Geno screams through the gag as the first soldier approaches him.
I watch, my arms crossed, my rage still boiling. It won’t drop to a simmer until Geno’s lifeblood is on my hands. But first, he’s going to suffer. I think my soldier might hesitate, but he surprises me with a swift strike to Geno’s leg. He adds a wad of spit to Geno’s face as he backs away.
“Next.” Benny hands another soldier a switchblade, then keeps giving out weapons as my soldiers turn Geno into a grotesque pincushion.
His screams all blur into one agonized cry as they cut and stab him again and again. They follow my instructions and avoid major arteries, but by the time each man has taken a shot, Geno is missing fingers, toes, and half of his nose.