His Kingdom

Rayleigh

"You're my granddaughter, little dove. You also have the Ricci bloodline flowing through those veins." my grandfather, Dante said in his deep and gravelly voice. He chuckled briefly, swirling the scotch in his glass. "You know, I pitty the damn fool that should ever try to fuck with you."

I quickly blinked away the memory and soon felt the moisture of the warm tears slowly sliding down my cheeks as I sat in complete silence in my grandfather's old office at Russo's Diner. God, how I miss that man.

Ever since his death, I've yearned badly for his wisdom during moments of hardships that have happened in his absence. I find myself thinking back to moments with him when he had given me advice or encouragement. It does help, but I can't help but feel that it's not good enough. Not even close.

"Fuck," I gritted through clenched teeth and angrily swiped the tears from my face. "You should still be here, Pops." I sniffled, yet I felt the sharp unbearable sting in my heart with so much grief that I felt like I couldn't breathe properly.

Someone took him from me. But, who and why I've yet to uncover. But, when I do find out, because I will find out, I swear to God and sweet baby Jesus that the people who are responsible will wish that they never had a hand in killing my grandfather. And that goes for anyone who played a part. Even if they turned a blind eye, or got wind of it and decided to not warn us to stop it. I will gladly take part in making sure that they endure the most torturous and painful death—one by fucking one.

I closed my eyes when I heard a soft tapping on the office door. "Baby," Damien's deep yet soothing voice called out before it opened. "Are you ready?"

I inhaled a lung full of air and held it in for a few seconds before blowing it back out. "Yes," I softly nodded my head as I finally opened my eyes.

Modeling one of his fitted black polo t-shirts and matching slacks, Damien stood by the office door and watched me intently. His jaw was hard as steel but his deep green eyes were soft and cautious. His expression was probably unreadable to most. But, I could read him. I've seen this look in his eyes before. He's worried about me. Worried about what I'm about to see and more so because he has no idea what I may do when I step foot inside that cell with Samantha.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked as I stood from the chair.

I laughed. "Damien," I tried to say but he quickly rounded the desk and grabbed both of my hands into his.

"You don't have to do anything. I will make sure it's done." he quickly said.

I gave him a warm smile. "Damien, I need to do this. Please, don't worry about my sanity." I laughed again. "If I don't do this, then you may have to worry about it."

"It's not that I don't think you're capable—you do know that, don't you?" he asked me as he cupped my face in his warm hands, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "It's just I don't want you to ever think or feel that you have to do these types of things just because of the lifestyle we live."

I knew what he meant and I love him for always thinking of me. He's so overprotective and I adore him for loving me as he does.

"I know, Damien. Truly I do. But, I want to do this—I need to do this."

He exhaled deeply through his nose as his eyes bored into mine. Sensing I was being truthful, he dipped his head once and then kissed my lips briefly. "Ok, she's  waiting for you, my love."

______________________

Stepping into the slightly dingy cell, my nose was instantly hit with the foul smell of blood and sweat. I wrinkled my nose as I let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting down in the cellar.

"Hey," Nick's deep and authoritative voice booms from the corner of the room. "Wake the fuck up, bitch." he took long strides toward the other side of the cell.

It was then that I spotted her. She's chained up by her arms, blood caked under her nose. My eyes roamed her body, instantly cataloging every cut and bruise along her frail-looking arms and legs. Her blood-stained t-shirt had tears in several places and she was wearing just a pair of black panties.

"Why is she undressed?" I asked Damien.

"That's how she was dressed when we arrived at her hotel room."

Nick chortled. "She was waiting for Daddy Brad."

"Daddy Brad?" My brows bunched, obviously confused by Nick's remark.

"Yeah. Apparently, this crazy bitch's fetish is being a little." Nick scoffed before slapping her cheek harshly. "I said to wake the fuck up!" his voice raised even higher.

A little? Oh, wait! I think I remember reading something about littles back when I had researched the BDSM lifestyle and community just before I met Damien.

"Isn't that where she would act childlike?" I asked, studying Samantha, who was slowly trying to raise her head.

"That's right," Damien answered from behind me.

I took a few steps toward her, shaking my head in disbelief. Is this bitch serious? How fucked up in the head is this bitch? The audacity of wanting to be treated as a baby or child yet having the nerve to kidnap my child?

I snatched her by the face, forcing her to look at me. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I gritted out. "You take my daughter from her crib—taking her away from her mother and father, and then wish to be treated as a baby or child by a man who despises and loathes you while having Angel in your care?" I squeezed my fingers tighter, purposely digging my nails until piercing through her skin. "You're fucking lucky to be breathing right now." I felt so much rage and anger coursing through my body that I had to force back the urge to strangle this bitches head off.

Samantha hissed as she tried jerking her face from my hold. I pulled her face until it was only a few centimeters from my own. "You do know that you've fucked with the wrong family, don't you?"

Her eyes, full of tears, finally raised to meet mine. She lifted one side of her lip in disdain letting out a low growl. "I tried to save Angel from your fucked up family. If you were even remotely a good mother, you would have taken her away the moment she was born." she sneered before spitting a mouthful of blood in my face.

I ground my teeth together, quickly shoving her face from my tight hold. Taking a few moments to collect myself, I smiled at her just before I slammed my balled-up fist as hard as I could, decking her right in her smug fucking mouth.

I began laughing joyously the instant she cried out in pain. I turned away and looked at Damien who already had a clean towel in his hand for me. He handed it to me and then walked over to the long metal table that was placed on the other side of the cell.

"That's rich," Samantha choked out in-between harsh gasps. Scoffing, "You're going to seriously shame my kink? You, Rayleigh Heart, who owns a fuckug sex club?" she sarcastically laughed.

Wiping her disgusting blood off my face, I watched as Damien picked up a black case from off the cement floor and placed it on top of the table.

"Oh sweet Samantha, I'm not slamming your kink," I said to her as I continued to watch Damien while he opened the case, spreading what looked like carving knives along the length of the metal table. "I'm shaming your fucked up mind."

Damien then turned to me, his lips turning up at the corners. "These are Coles's favorite toys," he informed, gesturing toward the beautiful knives.

"He thought you would like to play with them."

I grinned and walked over to them, skimming my fingers along the smooth cold metal of the sharpened blades. I never knew he had these. It seems there are a lot of things I hadn't known about my dear brother, including what's been going on with him lately.

Cole has been distant from me, Kaye, and his family. Kaye came to me the other night and confided how his anger is starting to drive a wedge between them. She's told me about his sudden outbursts of anger that come from out of nowhere.

My dear, stupid brother needs to pull his head out of his ass before he loses her—before it's too late to salvage what he's destroying with the love of his life. I do plan on speaking with him about it before the wedding that's in just a few days from now. Maybe then ill be able to figure out what's truly going on with him...

Picking up the larger of the knives, I balanced it nonchalantly. "I can see why Cole loves these," I then turned around and started at Samantha.

I toyed with the knife as I walked over to where she hung, half-conscious. Her feet dangle, streams of blood flowing to her toes, trickling to the floor, slowly the blood would drip, drip, drip.

Once I reached her, I ran my hand through her matted hair. "Take off her shirt," I commanded Nick.

He came up from behind her, wrapping his hands around her chest, and then ripped the shirt with one quick motion.

Samantha gasped, her body jerking as she struggled to free herself to no avail. I stared at her breast which clearly I could tell it made her very uncomfortable.

"They're very nice," I complimented. "Tell me something Samantha, did you breastfeed your baby before you killed her?" I asked though I already knew the answer. Of course, she did. Her medical records stated as much as she had her baby. Plus, Kaye told me how she caught her trying to breastfeed Angel.

She stayed silent with her head down. I cupped one of her breasts, slightly squeezing it. "You are ignorant when it comes to being a mother, Samantha. I know that you tried to breastfeed my daughter. But, you stupid stupid bitch, you can't breastfeed with no milk."

Taking the blade in one hand, I gripped her breast with the other and sliced it right off. The blade cut so smoothly it was like cutting through butter with a hot knife.

Her scream was so loud and sharp I thought my ear drums were going to burst. I dropped the hacked-off breast onto the cement floorvand then quickly turned toward Damien. I needed to see his reaction. I had to know if I frightened him. To know if what I had done displeased him in any way.

For the first time in a long time, I couldn't read him. I couldn't tell because his expression was blank. Not even his beautiful green eyes gave anything away. I quickly turned back around, not wanting to let it discourage me.

Samantha's screams calmed after a few moments. I grabbed the other and she quickly screamed out, "no! Please wait!"

With the knife pressed against her skin, I paused, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Please, no more!" she begged.

"Why? I did tell you, sweet Samantha, didn't I? You fucked with the wrong family!" I yelled the last part out and then cut through the other breast, quickly shoving the bloody meat into her mouth, muffling her screams.

I scraped the knife along her stomach causing her body to Buck wildly about. "Shhh," I hushed, "it's almost over." She began mumbling something but I couldn't understand due to her mouth being full.

I pulled her breast from her mouth, letting it drop next to the other one. "Any last words?" I asked as I laughed sadistically.

"Please! Don't kill me!" she begged through uncontrollable sobs. "If you let me live, I'll tell you who killed your grandfather!" she quickly blurted out.

My brows dipped. Taking a step backward, I stood and stared at her in disbelief. How could this ignorant crazy bitch know who killed my grandfather?

"You're lying," I shook my head. "You're just trying to save yourself and you think using him will be your saving grace." I placed the pointed edge of the blade below her belly button.

"No! I do know! It's why I kidnapped Angel in the first place." she said through labored breaths.

"Ok, tell me then." I pulled the blade away from her body.

"You have to swear you will let me go if I do."

"Deal," I gave her a genuine smile.

She took deep breaths, studying my face for deceit. "The older man who worked for your grandfather. I believe he was known as his underboss." she finally said.

I nodded my head and smiled at her. "How do you know?" I asked her.

"I overheard him talking on the phone the night your grandfather died. He told someone that he ended Dante and his family was next."

"Thank you," I said. She began crying with relief, nodding her head slowly.

I gripped the knife tighter in my hand and shoved the blade through her lower stomach, my anger so intense it helped drown out her ear-curdling screams. I cut her stomach open, blood splattering all over my face, hands, body, and shoes. Once I had carved open a big enough hole, I stuck my hands inside and yanked out her organs, letting them hang toward the floor. Once I reached her ovaries, I looked up at her and our eyes collided.

"No one touches my daughter and then lives to breathe another day!" I seethed. I ripped the organs from her body and wrapped them around her neck and pulled with every bit of strength I had, and waited until she stopped breathing.

Finally, her bloody body stopped jerking after several minutes had passed. I let go and stepped back to admire the artwork I created.

My heart immediately sped up the moment I felt Damien's hot breath on the back of my neck. Why does his reaction mean so much to me?

My body instantly jumped when his hand made contact with my lower back. He slowly slid it up my spine, once reaching the top he moves his hand to the back of my neck, gripping tightly. I was then jerked around, now suddenly facing his chest. The movement had been so fast, I had almost shoved the knife into his stomach due to his impulsive reaction.

"What are you—," I began to scold him but his luscious-tasting lips devoured mine, shutting me up instantly.

"Christ," he breathed into my mouth, pressing my body against his. "You're magnificent, baby."

He pulled back, and the look in his eyes stole my very breath away. The demons he's fought so hard to keep hidden from me were there, dancing just for me.

...