The love of his life, my life, was dead.
Moscow, Russia
December 2016
Inhaling the cigarette in my hand, I scanned the pin board in front of me in the dim light of my office and wondered if I had everything ready.
The huge construction consisted of various red, green, and black lines, which indicated the mafia houses or a connection in the criminal world. Photos of people who at one point or another made deals with Alfonso and who might have had a vendetta against Don or me. Their worth, possessions, and family. Locations of their headquarters and the banks they frequented.
The board had more than two hundred photos.
Picking up a marker from the corner of my desk, I crossed off the last fucker, named Rufus, who was the one hundred tenth kill, and my mouth spread into a sinister smile. He supplied Alfonso with all the torture devices. He couldn't have chopped up all these women without the unique knives Rufus made. They went to university together, so I thought it fitting they both died by my hand.
The euphoria of avenging my love never got old, and the deep, dark craving inside me couldn't be settled anymore. I lived for their cries of pain.
Then my attention snapped to the main photo in the middle, where all traces led one way or another, the most feared mafia boss in the entire world.
No morals, no principles, no mercy. You were either with him or under him. No kids, no wife, not one vulnerable place.
Vito Rossi.
My final target.
But first, I had to kill those close to him.
New York, New York
May 2017
“Insane,” Connor whispered, while he kept tossing pictures on the table, his eyes almost bulging from his head as Luke, Vitya, Michael, and Damian watched me with worried expressions on their faces. “It must be some kind of mistake.”
“Is it? Or you knew about it all along and hid my woman from me?” I roared in the warehouse, and Melissa immediately stood between us in a protective manner.
“We had no idea! It’s not her, Dominic. We buried her.” She pressed on my chest with her open palm, while trying to soothe me with her voice.
I removed it from my body. “Don’t ever touch me again, Melissa. What the fuck is she doing here?” She flinched at my tone, but I didn't give a shit. The woman was sharp and a good agent, but she was dumb when it came to men. “I can’t even have a meeting with you without the FBI present?”
“We thought it was for the best,” Connor muttered, and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on it.
“We checked her in the system. Her name is Angelica Rossi, daughter of financial mogul Ercole Rossi who owns half a city in Sicily, and they have a close association with the Rossi mafia gang. He has a wife and another daughter, Ciara. Angelica is engaged to Oliver Karev. He is American, and they met on a cruise while he was backpacking through Europe. It’s not her.” Melissa dumped all this information on me, but my mind refused to listen.
“She is a carbon copy of her!” I shouted, but she shook her head, while placing her hands on her hips stubbornly.
“They look alike, yes, but she had an accident a year ago, and she had to have several surgeries. She is not Rosa, even if it seems like they have the same face,” she finished softly, but I refused to believe that.
“She wears my cross.”
Connor cleared his throat, and replied, “It looks similar, but you can’t be sure. You know how many Catholics wear crosses? Please, Dominic, we know you’re grieving. We are too. But she is not our Rose.”
Wrong. All wrong, but it wasn't as if I expected another answer from them. People who claimed to love me so much didn't exactly show me much support in the months following Rosa’s death. The only thing they kept repeating was for me to let go and move on.
Damian stood up, his boots clicking on the concrete floor as he slowly walked toward me and stopped just inches away. His amber eyes held mine. “Whatever you need, brother. I’ll stand by you.” If my shattered heart was able to feel, his words would have made it ache, but the only thing I seemed to be able to do was nod and give him the papers.
He would help me find out once and for all if Angelica Rossi was Rosa Giovanni.
Funny thing was, no matter the answer, the outcome would be the same.
I’d destroy everything and everyone in my way.
