Vincenzo (44 years)
Slowly, I rose from the seat that Cassius and his pathetic scum assumed I was tied to. My fists clenched so tight at my sides, the veins on my forearms were ready to burst.
“What the fuck!” Shocked, Cassius and Gianna cried out together
When Zayne Morrone came up with the plan to use me as bait, I’d walked into the compound gate with my hands up. They thought they’d tied me down when they brought me and made me sit, waiting for Cassius to appear.
Now, I took in the stunned laced with fear expressions of Cassius and Mendez. In less than a minute their men ran into the room, and stopped, forming a half-circle around the room.
My gaze drifted over them, my voice steel, “you have two choices. Walk the fuck out of here with your lives intact or die right now.” When they didn’t move. I took a step toward Cassius who seemed to be backing away. Mendez on the other hand was screaming in Spanish to his men. Scowling, I lifted my hand and snapped my fingers. In quick succession, one after the other, the men in the half-circle fell like dominoes. I was impressed with the speed. It seemed like Zayne was good.
Pointing at Mendez and about to snap my finger, the coward dropped to his knees, his hands clasped in prayer. In rapid Spanish he begged for his life, calling me the devil. The way his men fell he probably believed it. Given the old church, we were in, it seemed appropriate. “Stay,” I barked at him and he bowed his head to the floor then I turned my gaze on the other man. “Now, Cassius.” He squared his shoulders as though ready to take me on. “Sit, we need to talk,” I ordered, gesturing to a chair that sat on a podium while glancing around.
Instead of a cross or a statue of Christ on the wall behind the podium, a large array of tools hung from hooks. Torture chamber. “Well, hellfuckinglujah, Cassius, nice setup and just what I needed.” Something in my voice or my words had him dropping to the chair. “Now. It’s my turn to tell you a story about a little boy, Boogeyman. Pay close attention, you might enjoy it.” The look on the man’s face was priceless. I’d never seen fear run that deep before. “All this boy ever wanted was to live, Cassius. In a home filled with loveable parents, food when he was hungry, laughter when he was sad, music when he was happy, and a dog. Instead, what he got was a sick stepfather who beat the fucking shit out of him whenever he felt like it. Then one night, his doped-up mother tried to save him and his little brother, but she died in vain, and you know what the boy called her. Bitch! Because she forgot she had children.” I paused and pushing Cassius forward, I cuffed his hands to a bar in front of the chair.
“Stop this fucking shit,” Cassius bellowed and I pulled the cuffs tighter until he squirmed.
On the floor below the podium, Mendez seemed to be praying. I heard the hard pummel of feet against the wooden flooring as more men ran in, the sound of their guns cocking, resonating in the empty building. Not bothering looking at them, I snapped my fingers and Zayne played dominoes once more. Mendez whimpered like a bitch in heat.
I looked at the tools and reached for a scythe, using the tip of the weapon, I dragged it down Cassius’ back, ripping material on its way but not touching skin yet. He flinched.
“That same night,” I began speaking again. “His stepfather raped the little boy, tore him open, made him bleed so he could have a little fun. Then a very nice man came to save him and took him away in a shiny black car promising him a better future. But on their way, some motherfucker rammed the car.”
I rolled the tip of the scythe down Cassius’ back, this time the hiss of skin peeling echoed around the church like a fucking hushed prayer recital, blood spurted like a misdirected fountain. Cassius screamed, his body shaking as he grabbed the bar, his knuckles whitening with the tight grip.
“Then the sick fuck stole the boy from the car and killed his little brother. The only happiness in the boy’s life was his brother who he cared for more than his own life and that sick fuck took his brother’s life, slaughtered an innocent.”
I dropped the scythe and reached for a weapon that looked like a fork, only the prongs were bent at a right angle. Pressing down, I dragged it along Cassius’ thigh and another screamed ripped from his throat. I heard Gianna’s shocked gasps, I didn’t look at her.
“As if that wasn’t enough, he branded the boy, marked him with an emblem burned into his skin then tattooed over to give it definition. Then he raped that boy, over and over for weeks. A year and a half he did sick shit to him. And through it all, that little boy never cried, not even a whimper. He never screamed, not even a sound. He never begged, not even a joining of his hands. What he did, though, was make a promise, to kill the sick fuck.”
I kicked the chair out from under Cassius and because he was still cuffed to the chair legs, it left him hanging with arms attached to the bar and his legs stretched out behind him. I ripped Cassius’ pants with the fork until all the pieces fell away leaving him naked.
“Vincenzo, stop,” Cassius begged. “I’m sorry.” he cried.
“That boy promised he wouldn’t just kill the sick fuck, he would give him the same treatment.” I dropped the fork and reached for a baton then lined it upright with Cassius’ ass.
“No. Please, please don’t,” he begged, his ass squirming from side to side.
I felt nothing for him besides deep dark hate that would make me look like the devil to Gianna, I didn’t care. With one quick shove, I drove the baton into Cassius’ ass. His body jerked hard, his chilling screams filled the church. I could hear Mendez’s prayer growing in tempo. Then placing my foot on the tip of the baton sticking out, I rammed my foot down. His ass exploded in another fountain of blood swallowing the stick. Cassius choked on his tongue, his screams rushing out in whimper groans, his body a shaking mass.
I lifted my gaze, meeting Gianna’s stunned look, her eyes wide in horror, her chest rising and falling quickly as she gasped for air. Breaking the connection, I grabbed a machete, tested the weight in my hand then said, “the boy promised to take off the sick fuck’s head.” With one quick swipe, I sliced Cassius’ head clean off, it flew like a well-aimed football, landing at Mendez’s feet. “Touch down, bastard.” The man shrieked like a fucking girl, and I cocked a brow as his horrified gaze met mine. Then I glanced down watching Cassius’s shocked gaze stare up at the ceiling, his mouth agape, his face contorted in pain. “Hope you enjoyed my storytelling, Cassius.”
I looked up, meeting Gianna’s eyes once more. Her expression one of uncertainty and I knew she was trying to piece together whether I was telling Cassius my story or someone else’s.
Why would I tell Cassius’ someone else’ story? I silently asked.
Her smile was hesitant as though she’d heard my question and trying to assure me she understood why I had to kill the fucker that called himself the Boogeyman, to frighten little girls and boys. He never guessed one boy would survive his shit, that the boy would escape, that the boy was the son of a mafia don who’d found him again, that the boy swore revenge, biding his time.
I ignored her silent comfort. She still had to tell me about this so-called child she had with Zayne.
A few men ran in, and I snapped my fingers, they fell. Only Mendez was left standing. He gaped around him, touching his body as if checking for bullet holes. Then all hell broke loose. Gunfire erupted outside, filling the night air. I jumped off the podium, untied Gianna, and grabbed her arm. Pointing to Mendez, I made the sign of the cross. “Watch your back,” I warned in Spanish before nudging Gianna toward the exit. Leaving the fucker alive was strategic, I wanted him to go back to all his cohorts and let them know that Salvatoreil diavolowas real.
Mendez and Cassius’ men were gaining on us. “Let’s go!” I yelled over the explosive gunfire that suddenly filled the night air. It sounded like the men were either shooting blind or they were being forced back by an army. I knew better. They probably couldn’t see Zayne and didn’t know where to shoot. “Move.” I pointed my gun at the building as we sprinted outside, firing shots at the men swarming the place.
We were running blind not sure where to go when out of nowhere someone yanked Gianna’s arm, pushing her into a car then Zayne barked, “Salvatore, we need to move, now!” It was too dark to see, and I followed his voice. “Get down.” He shoved Gianna to the floor, throwing himself over her as the back windshield exploded, shattered glass spraying the car. He’d left the driver’s side door open, I jumped in behind the wheel, slammed the door shut. “Get us out of here,” Zayne yelled from the back seat, his gun raining hellfire as I started the engine and shot off.
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