New York, New York
June 2017
“Please, I have no idea what you are talking about,” a man pleaded, while the machine buzzed loudly as Damian prepared the steel to be hot as fuck so we could leave a mark on this fucker’s skin.
Smirking, I crooked my head, studying my target with an impassive stare.
The man was pinned to the wall on the metallic chair, while heavy chains were wrapped around his neck and chest, digging painfully into his skin and allowing the blood to sip slowly down to his lap. His wrists and ankles were in handcuffs nailed to the floor, so no matter how much he tried to run away, he couldn’t.
Fuck, working with Damian was a whole new experience. My twin sure as fuck knew how to torture people on the master level. Pulling my elbow back, I punched him with all my might, right in his nose. It cracked, and as he screamed, satisfaction ran through me.
The man who beat and tortured my Rosa. “Stop whining like a little bitch,” I ordered, picking up a pair of pliers and taking a few steps closer to him. Then one by one, I pulled out the nails on his fingers as he cried and cried, his voice becoming hoarse. But fuck if I cared. Finishing the task, I laughed at the wetness spreading all over the front of his clothes as the smell of urine filled the air. Throwing the pliers away, I walked behind him and choked the life out of him while Damian joined us with a hot steel rod that he pressed right between the crook of Mark’s neck and shoulder. An agonizing whimper echoed in the basement. He convulsed on the seat several times, and then his body stopped as he passed out. Still breathing though, based on the pulse under my fingers.
Displeased he didn't experience all the ache I planned, I raised my accusing eyes to Damian, as he said, “Relax, Dom, I know what I’m doing.” With that, he took a bottle from the cupboard, spilled onto a tissue the antiseptic stuff doctors use to wake people who’ve fainted, and covered Mark’s nose with it. The fucker jerked and whimpered, the pain clearly registering in him once again.
Damian gave me a kitchen knife while he held the hammer. “Write the name.”
I proceeded to carry out my usual ritual while Damian stabbed him in his chest, enough to bring unbearable agony but not enough to kill him.
Then I hammered the nails into him as Damian cut off his dick. Disgusting blood flew in every direction. Thankfully, we had gloves and masks. Once it was all done, Vitya arrived in a black SUV and placed Mark in the truck. He had a message to deliver to Vito Rossi, because Mark was his bodyguard. No, we didn't kill the fucker.
Killing him would mean mercy, freeing him from punishment. He had to pay the price for touching the love of my life, my woman, my Rosa.
Vito Rossi accepted no excuse for weakness, so I trusted him to come up with an appropriate plan to make Mark pay for it.
Ah, Vito.
Get ready, because I’m going to take my revenge on you soon.
New York, New York
July 2017
Rosalinda Francesca Giovanni
Beloved Daughter.
2.03.1994-10.09.2016
Placing twenty-three red roses on the gravestone, I inhaled the fresh July air and kneeled while the light breeze touched my bruised skin from the fight last night. “Hi,krasavica. I wanted to see you before going to Italy to find out the truth.” Halting, I remembered the funeral as if it were yesterday.
Getting out of the car, my eyes scanned the crowd as I willed everything in me to stay to pay my respect to the woman I loved, even if it might kill me. Oddly enough, the weather was warm. With browns and yellows, the first bloom of fall created a picture from some kind of movie.
The black coffin was slowly lowered into the ground as everyone from the familia cried and tossed dirt and flowers into the grave.
My blank face studied it all, almost like an outsider, as my eyes travelled to Damian who held a sobbing Sapphire, Luke, and Juanita with watery eyes, and then Vitya and Michael.
My hands clenched into fists, as rage overpowered all other emotions, and I couldn't see straight for the red haze. The gun inside my pocket begged to be used on me, to end my life for what Alfonso had done to my krasavica. Maybe if I had listened that day… if I had put my wounded pride aside… if, if, if. Life was one long fucking what if.
Shaking my head, I snapped out of it and continued to talk as time ticked by and the plane awaited me. “The only reason I’m doing it… is to discover for sure it’s not you. Just the possibility of you being alive… you have no idea what it does to me.” Kissing my fingers, I softly touched the headstone and took a deep breath. “Although it feels like a betrayal to you, I cannot help the feelings that awaken inside me when I look at her picture. I have to know the truth. Forgive me for that too, my love.” Rubbing the stone gently, I stood up and walked to the car where Vlad already had the door open for me.
I would come back to this place.
Either to destroy the stone or put a bullet through my head.
Because once my revenge was fulfilled, my life had no meaning.
New Bern, North Carolina
