Darting to the side, I level a swift powerful kick to his chin, relishing the snap as his jaw dislocates. He drops the knife automatically, and I shoot him in the foot, gaining enormous satisfaction from the animalistic howls he emits as he writhes on the floor while clutching a hand to his chin. Shooting him in the other foot, I crouch over him, quickly checking for other weapons, but he’s clean.
Blood oozes from his feet as I step over him, and I’m glad I changed into black pants, a matching top, and boots, because if I got blood on my new white Chanel dress or my Jimmy Choos, I most likely would’ve killed the bastard on the spot—and we can’t be having that.
Opening the door, I find mysoldatiwaiting outside as expected. “I need you.” My gaze bounces between Ricardo and Ezio as I step aside to let them enter. They stride to where Paulo is whimpering on the floor, hauling his shivering hulk up onto the bed. “Tie his wrists and his ankles to the bedposts,” I instruct, throwing them lengths of rope from my kill bag. This room is a throwback to the turn of the century and in dire need of modernization, but the four-poster bed comes in handy for what I have in mind.
“Keep a lookout,” I command my men, after they have finished securing him to the bed. I wait until they depart the room before I get to work. I strip my husband bare, trying not to puke at the sight of his flabby flesh and limp dick.
“I’m sorry,” he whines in a garbled voice, struggling to speak with his dislocated jaw. His eyes plead with me as I remove my precious serrated-edge Stryker from my bag, stroking it lovingly.
Men consistently disappoint me, but my arsenal of weapons never lets me down.
“Beg for your life, and I might reconsider,” I lie, hovering over his hideous body.
He spews garbled lies from his disfigured lips as I mentally count all his crimes in my head. His begging is as pathetic as everything else he does in life, and I’m done listening to his sniveling. Striking fast, I shove the tip of my knife deep into his balls, jumping back as urine projects from his dick as he pisses himself. “Asshole,” I say, taking care of the problem when I slice his cock cleanly from his body. Tears pour down his cheeks, and his face is contorted in pain.
It only spurs me on.
Jabbing my knife repeatedly into his balls, I ravage his manhood until there is nothing left but shredded skin. “That’s for all the innocent children you victimized,” I confirm, watching the blood seeping from his groin in twisted fascination. He attempts to scream, but the sound is trapped inside, emerging as choked, staggered breaths.
“This is for all the times you hurt me,” I continue, gliding my knife across his chest in a horizontal line. “For all the times you violated me until I was strong enough to take control and outmaneuver you.” I make a succession of cuts along his chest, blood cascading from the wounds as he thrashes on the bed, his survival instinct kicking in.
I slash at every inch of exposed skin, hitting my stride. “For all the people you cheated, lied to, and betrayed.” Slash, cut. “All the men you had killed for no reason other than you didn’t like them.” Slash, slash, cut. “For all the cruel words directed at innocents and those who were vulnerable.” Slash, slash, cut, cut. “For daring to exist.” I step away and retrieve a pair of plastic gloves from my bag. “I wish I had time to draw this out more, because it’s what you deserve, but the rest of your family is waiting for me,” I say, putting the gloves on.
Anguish races across his face, and I’m a cruel bitch because it warms my heart to see it, knowing he’s in pain, that he feels fear, and he can’t do anything about it. Let him die knowing what it is like to suffer at the hands of another. Let him die feeling some of the pain his victims surely felt.
“At this very moment, your loyalsoldatiare suffering the same fate. I can’t leave any of them alive,” I lie because I won’t kill innocent women and children. The cunts downstairs don’t count. They are far from innocent and deserve to die, but they are the only women whose throats will be split tonight. Everyone else being terminated is a man. They cannot live because they cannot be trusted.
Plans have been made to get their wives and children out of the country. I will ensure they are taken care of, provided they don’t cross me. I expect a few token idiots will try to betray me, and we’ll make an example of them. That will keep the others in line. Eventually, they will forget and move forward with their lives. In time, they may even come to thank me.
“The men who are loyal to you will be joining you in hell,” I explain, trailing the tip of my knife up and down his straining arms. “They were given a choice, and they chose wrong.” I level him with a cunning smile as I dig the knife into the inside of his lower arm, dragging it all the way through his skin, up to his armpit. Then I repeat the motion with the other arm, deeply satisfied with the inhuman sounds gurgling up my husband’s throat as blood spills from the jagged cuts. I’m not sure what it says about me, but I am deriving enormous pleasure inflicting pain on him.
Without warning, I rip into his stomach, peeling back the flesh and yanking his entrails out. I let them hang over his body, draping them like a myriad of venomous snakes are climbing out of his insides. I feel nothing as I stab him repeatedly in the thighs, his legs, and his arms and slash across his face.
I should have put some opera on. A majestic symphony to accompany my artistic endeavors, I think as I step back and survey my masterpiece. Paulo is barely recognizable as a human, his body ripped apart with my sharp blade. I see the moment the light leaves his eyes, and a blanket of relief washes over me.
He can’t hurt anyone anymore.
The world is stripped of one more evil prick.
Depositing my soiled gloves on the ground, I pick up my cell and call Renzo. “Bring them to the living room for me.”
I snap a couple of pictures of the gruesome scene, planning to share this around. I want men to see this. To know what I am capable of. To understand what fate awaits them if they dare to double-cross me.
Tossing my cell on the table, I cross the bedroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror, scarcely recognizing the image peering back at me. The innocent girl with the bright, laughing eyes is long dead—replaced by a bloodstained face that was crafted to seduce men and a body that burns with fiery intensity from the inside out.
Vengeance is a never-ending fire that refuses to extinguish.
As long as there is breath in my body, I vow to exact revenge on the men who have wronged me.
I will not be at peace until I have eradicated every single one of them from existence.
For years, I have plotted and planned with military precision. Now, the time has come to properly set things in motion. It will still take time, but I can be patient. Failure is not an option, and I won’t cut corners. This will be a slow and methodical process, and by the end, I will be in control of The Commission and the entire Italian American mafia.
My spoken name will spread fear.
I will be talked about for years after I have exited this mortal realm.
No made man will dare to betray me.
