Mafia Puppet

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31 | a deadly punishment

THE CAR ABRUPTLY stopped. Surrounding the left side were awfully dense woods and the right side was a ditch with water rustling below. Other than the water waves and the trees swaying by the wind, everything was silent. No cars were zooming past and the only light came from the bright beam of our headlights. We were on an isolated road that screamed danger.

"Stay here," my husband ordered before stepping out of the car with Fabio. The driver stayed inside but he was silent as expected, obviously fearing my husband.

Antonio had lost all the extra men he had brought and only allowed another SUV with us. That car wasn't shut downed either. I was glad that the windows were tinted because when the bodyguards stepped out of the other car and walked passed me, they didn't get to see my feared reflection.

Antonio strolled to the front and leaned against the bridge casually. He light up a cigarette and held it to his lips in between his pinky and ring finger. I hated to admit that he looked good standing there. But also looked very creepy and stalkerish.

The scenery would've been a beautiful sight if the circumstances were any different. The place felt so beautiful and I was opted to open the window yet I didn't. I had a feeling that it wasn't safe and Antonio was not on this dangerous site just to take a stroll. Before I could question where Fabio was, I got my answer.

The trunk door opened and slammed shut behind me. I didn't even have to glance back to know who they were dragging to the front. Jasmine’s familler screams filled my ears as she was manhandled to the front.

Jasmine squinted and wrapped her arms together after catching herself from falling. She was standing before my husband. From where I sat, I could see everything like a movie. The bright headlights helped. I could see the swollen eyes of my peer and the fresh tears streaming down. What was happening?

I had a hint of what but I didn't want to believe it. I didn't get it. He asked her for himself so then why do this. I had heard that the mistresses are sometimes even more luckier than the wife herself. Why was she different? What made her any different?

I couldn't hear what they were saying. My husband spoke and Jasmine starred at him in pure fear. Her brown hair was messy and her checks were swelled with bruises. Her clothes which consisted of a tank top and jeans were stained with blood and dirt. It was a clear indication that she put up quite a fight before she was kidnapped.

Fabio stood to the side, alert. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill her for the Don. His face was as stoic as always and his expression seemed darker as the lights only illuminated by his face. It casted a shadow with Antonio and Jasmine in the spotlight.

I watched silently as Jasmine started visibly trembling and I quickly realized why. My husband pushed himself off the railings of the bridge and threw his cigarette down before crushing it with his sleek black shoes. He looked up and I just knew he had that dark, killer expression on.

He was going to kill her.

I should've looked away. I should've acted like it didn't make a difference—after all, I was not new to crimes and murders. I should've been able to handle it. But I couldn't.

I could read her lips. They were begging to be saved. The Don tsked and rounded her body, standing directly behind her. He bent down his head and spoke something in her ear, his hands creeping on her waist just like they did to mine on our wedding night. It was like a jab to my ego. Knowing that my husband was flirting with another woman and I couldn't do anything about it.

He knew I was watching. Maybe, he wasn't going to kill her.

I knew I should've been glad. I knew a normal person would've been relieved. I was not. It was complicated. My humanity refused to let me feel any less guilty and my brain who knew how much this affected my self-respect refused to want her to live and ruin my life. I couldn't do anything about this but I didn't want Antonio to have a mistress—though I was told many times it was a man's right to have many women. I was sure that was against the law and adultry was a crime. And it wasn't even all that. If she lived then she'd live like a prostitute. She would most definitely be gang raped. I didn't want that for her. She was better off dying because I knew a soft person like Jasmine would never be able to handle it. I knew she wouldn't be able to survive it.

I closed my eyes and tried to take my breathing. I was not a good person. I was sinful. Depressing and fearful thoughts were clouding my head. That wasn't good. I knew I was a sinner and extremely selfish who was only looking for my own well being but I didn't have a choice.

When I opened my eyes again, Antonio was standing there with a sickening smirk on his face and Jasmine looking down the railings of the bridge. She looked back, a pleading expression on her face but my husband didn't budge. He just stood their with his hands in his pockets and a sickening look on his face as if he was enjoying her terror. As if sensing my gaze, my old peer turned towards me. Despite not seeing me, her eyes were begging for me to say something but what could I have said? There was nothing that I could do. I wasn't some illogical girl that lived in a stupid, unrealistic fictionous novel that would run out and tell her husband to stop. I had been trained like a dog not to bark back.

I quickly covered my mouth and silenced my scream that was threatening to erupt from my lips. Jasmine, the one girl who was always so lively with me, pushed herself off the railings and into the large ditch. This time I couldn't hold back my tears. The driver glanced at me through the mirror and gave me a smile. It was as if he knew none of this was over. And it wasn't. This was just the beginning.

I couldn't see anymore of this cruelty. She was innocent yet he forced her to kill herself. He didn't want to get his hands dirty. But I couldn't close my eyes either when he was brought out. I gripped the leather seat harshly under me as the memories resurfaced. It was like my body froze and I couldn't just not see.

The tattooed man who molestated me was dragged out by other men. His face looked like it was punched. Antonio had a neutral expression on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. The man—who's name was still unknown to me—was pushed onto the road on his hands and knees.

It was all so real. Was my husband going to kill him as well? I didn't want to watch another murder. I didn't think I could take it, however, I also knew that if Antonio hadn't killed Jasmine in front of me then I would've unaffectivily watched him kill this man. He laid his hands on a woman and I believed him not fit to live. He wanted to rape someone and strip them off their dignity and will. If this had happened to a virgin woman then she would be unfit to be married and start a family. She would be called a whore.

Men in black surrounded the Don and the man. Fabio was one of the men. Few had bats in their hands and the others held guns. Obviously knowing that I was watching this all along, the Don turned towards me. Even though the windows were tinted and he could only see my outline, it was as if he could read me and my posture. He probably could considering that he had been trained to be the capo since birth. Like all dons in the Giordano Family, he also had to kill his best friend and rival for the throne. I couldn't exactly blame him for being hollow. The Family made him like that—emotionless and stoic. However, all this could never justify his actions. After all, he was still wrong and so was I.

With a flick of his hand, bodyguards moved in front of my car. Their hands were holding bats and severe objects. I could practically feel the fear clawing my gut making me want to puke. Why was he doing this in front of me? Why was he involving me into the business? I was a woman.

I was married to the Don and still failed to figure him out. I was no different from others. As a man swang his bat, I couldn't hold in my terror.

At last, I unleashed it. I screamed.

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