*Trigger warning* It gets a bit gory from here.
I fist the cellphone, gritting my teeth as I hear the cries on the other end, guilt and sorrow tightening around my heart.
I look out the window, the dark starless sky taunting me. It represents what I am now without her… dark, lost, alone.
“D-Daddy,” I hear her shaky voice and I clench my fist, hating the pain in her voice.
The crescent moon casts a glow into the pitch-black room, illuminating the distraught on my face.
“Princepesa,” I say softly, willing myself not to break down with her on the line.
“M-Mama, won’t tell me what’s wrong…” she says with hiccups. “She’s crying and calling Momma’s name… W-What’s wrong with my Mommy?”
Regret. Guilt. Disappointment. They hit me all at once. I regret not being there with Ana, to protect her. I feel guilty because she got hurt because of me. Knowing this happened because they wanted to send me a message; it tears me apart.
I’m disappointed in myself for not noticing that my enemy was right under my nose. I let Ana down. I vowed that I would protect her and now she’s in a coma fighting for her life. I let down my daughter. I let down our baby. I failed at the most important job of being a father, a husband, a man… to protect my family.
“Your Mommy’s hurt princepesa but she’s fighting to get better,” I say trying to keep the tremble from my voice.
I need to be strong for her. This is not the time to break down.
“Momma’s hurt?” she asks with a sob and I feel my heart breaking.
“Princepesa… It’s going to be okay… your mommy will be okay,”…she has to be… I reassure, trying to calm her but she cries, hiccupping and calling for her mommy.
I sit there trying to calm my little princess as she cries, finding it hard to do with just words. I want to be there, to hold her in my arms. I never want to see her cry. I want to see her smile, see those big, bright eyes of hers sparkle in joy…
… I want us to be a happy family. I want my Ana back.
I hear shuffling on the other side of the phone and I hear Aunt Christina, trying to soothe her. They both are blubbering with cries but they provide each other with comfort.
“Christi? Diana!” I hear as a door is slammed.
“J-Johnattan… Our b-baby!” Aunt Christina cries and I listen as they talk.
A numbness starts to steep into my chest as I listen to the pain and anguish in their words and cries. I started this.
“Dylan…” his voice distracts me from my thoughts.
“We’re leaving for Palermo first thing tomorrow… Make the necessary arrangements…” his words are chipped, hinting at the anger he tries to withhold.
He goes silent, sobbing the only thing I hear.
“How is she?” he asks emotion choking his voice.
I relay to him what the doctor had told me and I hear him take a sharp intake of breath.
“She’s pregnant…” he murmurs and Aunt Christina’s sobs become louder.
“We’ll be in Miami at 7 a.m. tomorrow. Whatever needs to be done do it. We’ll see each other then,”… and before I can reply he hangs up.
An hour ago, I left Ana in the infirmary with a promise. One I will fulfil.
Standing from the armchair, I navigate the darkroom. I pass the wrecked halls, board nailed over the broken windows and faint patches of blood on the walls. The stench of bleach hits my nose. It has been a day but the scent of cleaning supplies engulfs the mansion.
The bodies of our enemies burned, while our fallen brothers sent to the morgue until a day is chosen for their burial.
Steeping into my kitchen, the three men lounging around the island looking as worn out as I do look at me.
“Capo,” They say, watching me cautiously as if any moment I might break.
“Jasper,” I say sternly, eying the kid.
The swellings around his eye and on his cheek have started to go down but his lip is still busted and he wears a bandage around his naked torso. We are all in sweatpants, Adonis and I in shirts.
“Indiana’s parents will be coming here tomorrow. They will be in Miami at 7 a.m. Make the necessary plans,” I say detached.
Jasper nods before looking at the other two men and making his way out the room.
“…and Jasper,” I call out as he reaches my side. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Gulping, he nods before hurrying from my presence. I eye my two second in commands as I walk towards the island.
They both look like shit. Adonis’ face is swollen and bruised, and his arms that peak from his t-shirt are bandaged. Raphael is covered in scratches and bruises but no life-threatening wounds. His body still shakes but it has prolonged intervals… an indication he’s healing.
“I don’t think I need to tell you what happens now.”
Both men look at me, hate and rage glinting in their eyes.
“No,” they breathe out in unison.
The last two days were used to secure the compound and watch over Indiana. Now that she’s stable and we’re back on track, it’s time to go on the offense.
“Good, I want to know everything about him. I want you to turn his life upside down. I want to know every fucking thing!” I bellow, white-hot anger running through my veins. “Giovanni Ferrez just declared war and I will have his guts hanged on our gates, like a fucking flag at the end of this.”
“I’ll get the men on it,” Adonis states, looking me dead in the eyes. “No one fucks with Cristiano Silvestre and lives.”
I watch how his right-hand hovers over his left arm where the bullet wound lies. A sick feeling of disappointment fills me; I should have aimed higher. After all, I had told him he’d die if she was harmed.
A shot to the shoulder and rearranging his face just doesn’t suffice. I want to see him, lying in a pool of blood just as she had. It’d be quick, something my dear stepmother and that son of bitch won’t have the pleasure of experiencing.
“When you do locate them. I want that bitch found and brought to me,” I smile, killer intent in my heart. “Have something special planned for her…”
“…death is too g-good for her,” Raphael speaks up, looking at the countertop, his eyes glazed over. “For what she did…”
“She will pay, Raphael…” I smile, a chill moving through me and he looks up at me before nodding.
“She will…” he nods, grasping the cup before him and taking a sip.
He hasn’t been the same since he found her. Having to be the one to donate his blood to Ana being the only positive blood type since she’s O+ and not fully over his injuries, he must feel like shit.
Raphael’s family had succumbed to the same faith two years back. His girlfriend at the time and her son. It was a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and it cost him everything.
“Where is Valconi?” I ask, breaking the silence that had engulfed the space.
That young, inexperienced idiot is the main reason we’re here. Attacking a Sister Mafia, the Valconi men seem to get dumber by generation.
“He’s in the Crypt,” Adonis volunteers an answer and I grin.
“Perfect. Don’t wait up…” I state walking away.
Neither stops me nor do they ask to accompany me. They know what is about to happen and they know better than to interfere.
He awakens with a start, screaming as the saltwater stings the wounds on his skin. He trembles, gritting his teeth as the coldness steeps into his body.
I smile placing the bucket to the ground. I watching as he fights against the binds, trying hard to remember where he is.
His drenched hair obstructs his view of me and he finds himself whipping his head to the side, frightened black eyes locked on me. His face is just as messed up as the rest of him.
Blinking he tries to put on a brave face but his eyes give him away, he’s terrified.
“Why am I here?! Do you know who I am?!” he yells trying to feign confidence.
“Vincenzo Valconi, youngest son of Giorgio Valconi…”
“Good…so you know what will happen when my father hears of this!” His voice shakes and the monster in me relishes his fear.
“…I’m sure you know who I am, Vincenzo…” I state, a loud crunch resonating as I step forward so we are inches apart.
Looking down I lift my foot, the broken bone lies on the stone floor causing me to tut. By the size and shape, I deduct it’s a rib, a human rib.
“I told those idiots to find all the bones…” I muse looking up at the man. “…but you know rats are… they tend to play with their food.”
Chuckling, I kick the bones to the other side of the room.
Nestled under this mansion, lies the Crypt, my sanctuary. Made of large stone blocks and having no windows, this is the best place to carry out business with those persons who need special convincing.
The orange hue from the electronic torches on the wall illuminate the area, giving it that warm and dangerous feel.
“So, Valconi you must really be stupid to try and attack my Mafia,” I muse, watching as his naked body shivers under the cold air being pushed into the room by the vent. “Or quite ballsy…”
He looks at me, lips sealed. “Not gonna talk… I see…”
I chuckle darkly stepping to the side, noting how his eyes watch me with fear. Reaching the control pad, I run my fingers the levers, the anticipation of what I’m about to do sending shivers up my spine.
“Your father won’t be coming,” I inform him as I look at my new victim, it’s been a while since I’ve done this and the rush makes me almost giddy with childlike excitement. “He knows better than to try me… he said and I quote ‘If he’s big enough to launch an attack, he’s ready to die for it.’… Fathers, aren’t they the best?”
He says silent watching me, not wanting to show how close he is to pissing his pants. It’s quite commendable but it won’t last too long.
“I’ve always had quite a fascination with ancient torture methods,” I joke as I pull a few of the levers getting the contraption started.
Vincenzo’s body starts to tremble as the machine starts to do its job. Spread like a starfish horizontally on the wooden table, his wrists and ankles tied to the ends of the contraption.
“This is called a rack…I use it when I’m feeling generous,” I smile as the cylinders start to crank pulling on his limbs. “It’s great for confessions …”
The first pop resonates in the room and he releases a sharp cry, as his bone and ligaments start to stretch.
“Now this how we’re going to play this… I ask a question and you answer… Do not omit anything and give additional information where appropriate,” I say encouragingly, the pained expression on his face egging on the demon within me.
They want more, they want blood, to see his organs hanging from his body but like sex, there needs to be foreplay before the main event.
His face starts to pale, his skin becoming a flaring red colour at his joints.
Crack…. Crack… Snap!
“Stop, please stop!” he cries. Pussy, it’s just been five minutes.
“Did you just say more? It’s not enough?” I ask with sick humour. “Let me crank it up!”
The cylinders move faster, pulling his arms out of their socket and he screeches, bawling like a fucking kid.
“Stop! I’ll talk-”
“Well … I’m not ready to hear you yet…” I crank the lower cylinder and he howls out in pain as his legs give way with a pop.
His cries and he pisses himself. Stuttering, begging and spasms taking over his body. I tilt my head looking at the little wimp… and he calls himself a mafia boss. Fucking Pussy…
Sighing I stop the cranks, shutting the machine down. Sad that my foreplay was cut short because the bitch just can’t hold his fluids… I thought he’d at least hold out until I started cutting fingers.
“P-Please, stop! I-I’ll tell y-you…” he mumbles the cortisol in his body running low.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I reply dismissively as I pick up my favourite tool, the blowtorch.
“Let’s begin shall we?” I say looking down at him. “How did you bypass the security?”
“I-I-I…” he mumbles out still under the effects of pain and I sigh.
He cries out as I glide the flame over his chest, singing all the brown hair there.
“I hate stuttering. Speak clearly…” I scold, relishing in the burnt flesh over his sternum. That should be fun to peel off later.
It takes two more tries before he gets it right; his nipples burnt, carrying a flaming red colour.
“She gave us! A woman with red hair… She said the girl was your weakness. That you were weak and easy to attack…” he rushes out, coughing blood dripping to the side of his mouth.
“Did she?” I ask not surprised. It had crossed my mind that Elia orchestrated this.
I burn a hot trail up his arm, the smell of burnt flesh engulfing the room, serenaded by his screams. “What else did she say?”
“She told me that she’s working with someone to bring you guys down. She lent us some of their men to help with the takeover… She wanted the girl dead and her partner wanted you dead,” he chokes out, and I yawn not at all impressed.
I fry his ear causing him to trash and bawl in pain, calling for his fucking mommy.
“Give me something worth hearing or your cock goes next…”
Coughing out blood, he shakes his head begging me to stop.
I bet she begged Elia not to do it… pleaded with her…and she didn’t stop so why should I?
Lighting up the flame, I burn the foreskin of his cock and he starts to sing like a canary.
“She used us to target you and your second in command and s-she sent Charles Silvestre to his death!” he rushed out in one breath.
At that admission my ears perked up, I pull back keeping the flame close enough so the heat scorches his cock.
He starts to doze off, moaning in pain and I roast his fucking tip.
“Say that again!” I yell out over his cries pulling back, the veins in my neck rising.
“She set you up!” he yells out crying, slobbering all over his face. “She gave up your l-location! She’s the reason you got shot! She wanted you dead b-but my aim was off! S-She was the one that shot C-Charles Silvestre!”
“Your aim?” I ask darkly and his eyes widened noticing his mistake. “So, you shot me?”
Vincenzo tries to deny but I just laugh shaking my head. “I don’t know about you but I’m in the mood for smoked sausage…”
…and with that, I roast his cock like it’s a fucking luau.
“Capo,” a voice calls frantically pulling me from the scene before me.
I drag my eyes towards the man. Adonis stands at the doorway of the Crypt, taking the sight before him.
Valconi kneels, his hands tied to his ankles, a Heretic’s Fork wrapped around his neck. His skin is still freshly burned and an angry red with black and blue here and there. Blood drips from his throat onto his chest as the sharp teeth of the Heretic’s fork dig in his skin. The other end digs into his burned breastbone, his lips quivering in discomfort and pain.
Best thing about the Heretic’s Fork, you speak or fall asleep, it kills you. It’s fun to watch them struggle and Valconi has been struggling all night, his eyes red and swollen.
“What is it, Adonis?” I ask, taking a deep draw of the cigar in my mouth.
I’ve been warned of the dangers of smoking … I quit a while back. You can say I’ve earned a relapse.
“We have a problem,” he grits out, fear choking his voice. “Mr. and Mrs. Blake were a-attacked at the strip. We lost ten men and the couple was injured-”
I rise to my feet in a fit of rage, flinging the cigar to the ground. His words play over in my mind and my heart sinks as I notice he hasn’t called one name in particular.
“What about my daughter?!”
Adonis’ eyes squint in confusion before widening, fear consuming his entire being.
“What happened to my daughter?!” I bellow waiting answers.
He speaks, his words register and I see red. “She was taken.”
…and just like that my last hold on sanity snaps.
Valconi starts to whimper behind me, probably sensing the shift in the room. I turn my attention to him, smiling. I stalk towards him, my intent obvious.
I am angry, fuming mad and I have a thirst for blood.
“It’s nothing personal Vincenzo… You just aided that bitch in almost killing me, shooting my fiancé and now, my daughter is captured…” I place my hand on his hair and he trembles, his eyes begging me for mercy but mercy is for the weak.
I smile, pushing his head down, the Heretic Fork digging into his throat. His blood splashes on my shirt as he gurgles his last dying breath.
Mercy is for the weak, Cristiano… The more ruthless you are the fewer people fuck with you.
Father was right… I’ve gotten soft… and I have paid the price.
Now, it was time to remind them why I’m called Il Cupo Mietitore.