GIO
With a solemn nod, Romeo acknowledged me as our hands met in a firm shake. Standing just a tad shorter than me, he bore an undeniable resemblance to Kayla – the same penetrating eyes, the identical hue of hair. At least he wasn’t groveling around Mathias like a sycophant.
Ah, Mathias. The very thought of him sent a surge of molten anger coursing through my veins. The image of his hands grazing Millie’s shoulders, his lips dangerously close to her ear, and his insufferable arm slithering between her legs… I could barely contain the wrath that surged within me.
A sharp shove from Sebastian jolted me from my seething thoughts. “For God’s sake, snap out of it! We can’t afford another reckless spree of bloodshed,” he chided, his concern evident.
“Why not? Eliminating a few more of our enemies might finally quiet them,” I retorted, the taste of vengeance lingering on my tongue.
Sebastian’s head shook in incredulity before he turned his attention to Romeo, who observed our exchange with mild curiosity.
“Where’s the scumbag?” Sebastian’s tone was laced with impatience.
“In the trunk. He pissed himself. That’s why I didn’t want him fouling up my backseat,” Romeo responded matter-of-factly. He guided us toward the rear of his sleek BMW, popping open the trunk to reveal a disheveled figure huddled within. The foul stench of urine, feces, and sweat wafted out. Tearful eyes peered up at us, the man’s mouth muffled by duct tape.
Without hesitation, I gripped his throat and hauled him out, forcing him to the ground. Our backdrop was the looming structure of the old Yonkers power plant, a monument of malevolence.
Gateway to Hell.
Gazing down at the whimpering heap at my feet, I savored the fear that glazed his eyes. “So, you snapped those shots?” I rumbled in a voice dripping with menace, crouching beside him as I drew my knife from its chest holster. I peeled off the tape, not just to grant him speech, but to indulge in his impending screams.
His gaze fixated on the blade, horror-stricken. “Please! I was just doing a job. I didn’t mean any harm.”
A malicious grin stretched across my face. This was the destiny that awaited me – ruthless, pitiless, a harbinger of agony. Not the tormented mess that Millie’s presence turned me into.
Though typically I left the art of torture to Sebastian, a virtuoso in his own right, I found solace in the kill. Today was different. Stepping aside, Romeo and Sebastian observed as I exacted my vengeance upon the photographer. His final secrets unraveled long before life left his body, the knife’s plunge into his heart sealing his fate. Silence reigned in the aftermath as I grappled with the tempest of fury swirling within me.
The revelation that Mathias had orchestrated those incriminating photos and dispatched them to me was a molten weight on my chest. He aimed to exploit Millie as my Achilles’ heel, goading me into a frenzy, perhaps even provoking an assault on Chicago. The audacity!
Romeo cleared his throat, breaking the stillness. “I discovered yesterday that Amadeo and Tonio reached out to Mathias a few weeks ago, proposing a collaboration to bring you down. Though Mathias was initially wary, suspecting a trap, Pearce’s counsel during our meeting yesterday persuaded him to trust them.”
“Amadeo and that damned Tonio,” I snarled, redirecting my fury toward them, momentarily sidestepping the raw wound of Mathias Ruberti’s betrayal. Damn him!
Love, an accursed weakness!
In the dimly lit room, Sebastian’s gaze bore into me with a mix of apprehension and uncertainty, as if he half-expected me to snap and wreak havoc upon Romeo, or perhaps even himself. His guarded expression belied the tense air that enveloped us, accentuating the gravity of our impending confrontation. With a deliberate calmness, I addressed his unspoken concern, my voice edged with determination, “Rest assured, it’s just them and a handful of insignificant soldiers. Nothing beyond our capabilities.”
“We’ll handle them, no doubt about it,” I affirmed, my tone tinged with a chilling resolve. But then, a trace of regret crept into my voice, a fleeting sense of missed opportunity, as I muttered, “Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t granted Amadeo a swift demise.”
Sebastian’s response came, measured and cool, “You crushed his throat, Gio. There are… gentler ways to meet one’s end.” His words lingered in the air, mingling with the curiosity flickering across Romeo’s raised eyebrows.
A wry smile curved my lips, the weight of my intention heavy in my voice, “Gentler than what Tonio will experience.”
“Undoubtedly,” Sebastian concurred, a dark agreement that echoed our shared understanding of the impending fate for our enemy.
Romeo interjected with a sense of detachment, his voice tinged with a touch of casual nonchalance, “If you don’t mind, I’ll slip back to Chicago before anyone realizes I’m missing.” I acknowledged his intention with a brisk nod, and as he made his exit, Sebastian and he exchanged a few parting words.
With Romeo’s departure, Sebastian drew closer to my side, a conspiratorial intimacy in his stance as he broached a matter that had clearly been nagging at him, “So Millie was faithful.”
The gravity of our situation pressed heavily upon me, my response laden with a sense of urgency, “We need to strike tonight. Unearth the core of this problem without delay. The family is infested with traitors, and Amadeo’s betrayal was just the beginning. Now, Tonio too has turned against us. Those two were always thick as thieves.”
A visible scowl creased Sebastian’s features, his voice carrying a mixture of concern and frustration, “Gio, did you even hear what I said?”
Stepping right into his personal space, I locked eyes with him, my tone unyielding, “Keep your focus away from my marriage, Sebastian. And be cautious that your own wife doesn’t blindside you.”
Sebastian’s response was silence, a silence that suited the moment because my blood was aflame once more.
As darkness cloaked the night, a silent pact solidified among us Dario, Sebastian, and I. Our target: Tonio’s holiday house nestled in the Hamptons. Tonio was slated to return to Atlanta come morning, but fate had a different plan. Massimo and Leonardo embarked on a parallel mission, aiming to apprehend Amadeo’s other legitimate son. I harbored no doubt that Leonardo would deal with his half-brother as ruthlessly as required; affection was a currency seldom exchanged between them.
In that moonlit night, vengeance surged through our veins. The first enemy soldier fell to my swift and deadly hands, his neck twisted before a warning could escape his lips. At the same time, Sebastian’s blade dispatched the second assailant with lethal precision. Without waiting to confirm Dario’s success, I bounded up the staircase, taking two steps at a time. A door creaked open to my right, and instinct guided my knife’s trajectory, the blade halting just inches above a young girl’s head. With a swift movement, my hand clamped over her mouth, muffling any outcry. Her resistance was fierce as I encircled her waist, a silent promise of safety accompanying my whispered words, “Not a sound, Rachel.” Recognition flickered in her wide eyes; she knew me.
“Where is your father?” My voice was steady but urgent, a plea for truth in a world of treachery.
Her fragile arm pointed down the corridor, unerring in its honesty. Bruises mottled her upper arms, a testament to the cruelty she endured. Tonio’s mark was unmistakable, etched upon her skin as a grim testament to his brutality.
Sebastian surged forward, our eyes locking in a quick exchange. I propelled Rachel toward him, her form colliding with his. Then, with a cautious stealth, I advanced toward the door she had indicated. She had no reason to deceive; her loyalty lay elsewhere.
The door swung open before my hand could grasp the handle, and there stood Tonio’s wife a pawn sent to unravel the source of the disturbance. My patience was threadbare; I shoved her aside, narrowly evading a bullet’s lethal path. Tonio’s feeble attempt at cover was betrayed by his position behind the massive bed, his gun firing relentlessly. In a guttural thud, the room quaked, and his wife crumpled to the ground, crimson life seeping from a wound inflicted by her own husband. Accident or design, it was a twisted end to a twisted partnership.
Sebastian’s signal was a subtle gesture, a hand pressed against the corridor’s floor, urging me to remain low. I inched closer to the bed, determination guiding my every move.
“What do you want?” Tonio’s voice rang out, a mixture of desperation and defiance.
“Step into the open, and you’ll meet a swift death,” Sebastian’s voice cut through the air, his words steeped in a mix of resolution and grim anticipation. Yet, the truth was far removed from this facade. My intention was far from swift; Tonio’s demise would be a meticulously orchestrated symphony of pain and retribution.
As the tension built, as if the air itself was heavy with suppressed violence, I crept closer, the distance between us shrinking. The air was charged, pregnant with the finality of our encounter.