No, I refuse to let my anger rule over me. I am in control of myself. I pour myself another shot of whiskey, this time savoring the smooth, smoky taste.
The humiliation of being attacked at the docks hasn’t fully left me. I wouldn’t have known it was Daniella’s group except for the picture Harding texted me of the big guy. His size and customized suit were recognizable after the motorcycle chase in Jersey. There was a second person there with him, but I never caught a glimpse of him. Too bad, I would have liked to have laid eyes on another member of her little army.
There’s no possibility Daniella came up with that plan herself. She’s never been the brightest bulb in the pack, although I have to admire her tenacity. The fact she keeps failing in her desire to take me down only speaks to her lack of intelligence and mediocrity.
Once the shooting was done and we realized all of the cars were useless, I had to call one of our nephews to pick us up. We returned just in time for the end of Dante’s wake, disheveled and smelling like gunpowder. After ushering the mourners out, I spread word throughout the city that I was offering one million dollars for anyone that had information I needed to know.
Within hours, a man named Jeremy came forward. After some gentle persuasion, he informed me that The Duke, boogeyman extraordinaire, was currently infiltrating one of my legal businesses, working as a secretary. Jeremy had then asked about his pay out, fully expecting to be paid. Instead, I shot him in the head. Loyalty is everything in my world, and I have no time for those who aren’t.
The next morning, The Duke was in my grasp and has so far been unwilling to cooperate. She does have a nice tight cunt though, so she does have some use. She’s been moved downstairs, and I fully plan on getting her to talk shortly.
It wasn’t hard after that to find the others. Cesare and I went through all the new employees, and we found one that started singing like a bird after only three fingernails were extracted. Pussy. From there, we were able to hunt down the rest, and last night, Cesare and a crew of loyal men went out to Yonkers and strung them up on their crosses.
They became the perfect sacrifices to further my reign. The little ants won’t know any better, but people in my world will see it for what it is, the ultimate warning. I am the king, their god, their ruler. Disobey me at your peril.
I wish I could have seen Daniella’s face this morning when she opened the cooler. I can imagine her face growing pale, a trembling hand at her lips. Maybe she vomited, the sight of a headless man too much for her delicate sensibilities. I snicker at that, then sigh at the accurate portrayal.
What did I ever do to deserve such a useless child? She’s nothing but a disappointment, and I’m disgusted she shares my DNA. She could never truly be a Gianelli—that bastard uncle of hers ruined her. I was raising her to be strong, loyal, the future of the Gianelli family. And now she’s nothing.
I deserve so much better. Look at Martinelli—seven children. Seven! Of course, there’s a bad apple or two amongst them, but his son is even now taking his place, standing strong in the wake of his father’s death. And what did I get? Daniella.
My fists clench and I return to the whiskey decanter for the third time. It settles in my stomach, the warmth radiating out in pleasant waves.
I must remember to thank Cesare for suggesting the anonymous dark web assassins. They did exactly as asked and promptly provided proof. They were worth every penny.
A thought strikes me. Whoever they were, they were certainly discreet. Martinelli went missing with nary a peep, and their work was meticulous. I wonder if murder is the only dish they serve.
Maybe they’d be interested in a side of kidnapping.
Chapter 47
The Duke
Fuck,themanisa pig. My jaw clenches as I scan my surroundings. I’m in a cellar of some sort, surrounded by whitewashed brick walls, one bare bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A walkway runs down the middle of the room with cells lining both sides.
The room smells of piss, shit, blood, and pure, unadulterated fear. Each cell holds a woman, the one I’m in holding two. Guess I don’t rate private accommodations.
Only one cell is empty. A wooden sign, like the kind you see on dog houses, is attached to its door, the wordPrincessemblazoned on it.
After enduring Vincenzo grunting away on top of me for the last two nights, he finally tossed me down here when he realized I wasn’t talking.
I’m under no misconception that this is a reprieve. On the other side of the room, just at the bottom of the stairs, is a decent-sized area that would look at home in a horror movie. Chains complete with cuffs hang from the walls, while a metal surgical table lays abandoned to the left. Loose chains, whips, knives, pliers, and other tools are displayed proudly on the wall, each cleaned and waiting for their next use.
And I didn’t miss the drain in the middle of the floor.
I won’t pretend I’m not apprehensive about my future here. I can handle pain—I’ve been training my whole life for a situation like this. I can kill with my bare hands, know which plants are the deadliest, and I’m proficient in every weapon.
But the one area I excel the most at is strategy. Am I right every time? No. Even if you consider every possibility, you cannot always accurately predict how another will act. You can only go on their past behavior and what you know of them.
Take Vincenzo, for example. After I accepted this assignment, I spent weeks learning my opposition. I knew he was a raging narcissist. I knew he enjoyed the adoration he felt he was due from anyone and everyone. I knew he wouldn’t let Dutch go without punishment for what we did in London. I knew he was clever, without a conscience, and the kind of evil I’ve rarely encountered before.
Based on everything I learned, I made a plan. I wrote and rewrote it, factoring in everything I knew. I made one terrible error though and it weighs on me. Leaning against the bars of the cell, I stretch my legs out in the small space. Guilt thrums through me, hunching my shoulders as I think of Jeremy.
He had been with me for years, his loyalty absolute. He’s been by my side for so long I now feel lost without him. A tear streaks down my face and I viciously swipe it away. I don’t get to feel sorry for myself. He’s dead because of me.
Jeremy had tried to argue with me. He didn’t want to be the one. He was scared it wouldn’t work, that if he was tortured, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut.
Weeks ago, when Zach and I agreed to infiltrate Vincenzo’s organization, I dismissed all my men except for Jeremy. They knew too much, and if they were discovered and tortured, Vincenzo would know everything.
