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“No! Stop!” Isotta screamed from across the room, but hearing her scared voice only fueled Alessandro.
He lifted Massimo from the ground by his collar, and they came face to face. Alessandro’s eyes narrowed as he looked into Massimo’s soon-swelling ones.
“You took everything from me. Now, I’m taking everything from you.”
Alessandro raised his fist again after releasing his one hand from Massimo’s collar. He held him up and punched and punched and punched until his fist hurt. He felt warm blood blast out of Massimo’s nose before something else drew his immediate attention. The door to Alessandro’s secret place opened fast, and before Alessandro could respond, there was an onslaught of men, guns raised, and all pointed in his direction.
Alessandro scrambled to get to his feet, but before he could, Giuseppe was right there with a gun pointed right in his face.
“Massimo, are you okay?”
The guards had no choice but to let him go as they felt the butts of guns pressed to the backs of their heads.
“Keep your fuckin’ hands up,” one of the men demanded. The guards did as they were told. They didn’t want to die.
While the guards they brought in subdued the ones Alessandro had in place, Francesco made it over to his wife and daughter. He got to Isotta first.
“Dad,” she uttered in disbelief, her eyes filling with tears.
“I’ve got you,” Francesco uttered, trying not to get emotional. He untied her from the chair and helped his daughter to stand up. Quite to his surprise, Isotta threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. Francesco slowed himself to be hugged, but he didn’t hug her back. He knew that if he showed any emotion, he would lose it. Francesco’s only focus was getting his family out of there. He moved over to his wife. As soon as he looked into her face, the rage he’d suppressed came spilling out. Patiently, he untied her and heard her say his name. He saw tears spill down his wife’s cheeks. He held on long enough to usher both of them out of the building and into a car he made sure was there, armed with guards he trusted. Once Francesco was assured that they were secure, he returned to the building with a singular focus.
He laid his eyes on Alessandro, who the guards had stood up and held, and Francesco ran in his direction.
“Son of a bitch,” he screamed as he reached Alessandro. He punched him in a windmill style, one fist after the other, flying and striking whatever he could. Alessandro couldn’t protect himself because the guards held his hands. Francesco beat him until he tired. Giordano stepped in.
“Okay, okay,” he uttered as he reached for Francesco and escorted him away.
“I need to kill him,” Francesco uttered, his breathing hard and jagged, “for what he did to my family.”
“I promise you, we’ll take care of him,” Giordano replied, understanding Francesco’s anger because he was angry, too.
Giordano escorted Francesco to the door and watched him as he walked out to the car where his wife and daughter were. Satisfied that Francesco was okay, Giordano closed the door and walked back over to where Alessandro and his sons were. Massimo was finally on his feet. His face was swollen, and his mouth was bloody, but he stood there. Giordano could still see the rage in his son’s swollen eyes.
“How do you want to handle this?” Giordano asked.
“I haven’t gotten my revenge yet,” Massimo seethed between clenched teeth.
He stormed Alessandro, pushing him so hard the guards had to release him. As Alessandro fell to the ground, Massimo aided him by jumping on top of him and pushing him to the pavement. He released everything he’d felt from the moment he found out Alessandro had taken his wife. Even though his eyes were shutting from the swelling, Massimo strained and kept them open so he could see where his punches landed.
He was unrelenting, pushing past his own pain to inflict pain. He pounded Alessandro’s face over and over again until it was a bloody mess. He issued body shots and returned his balled fists to Alessandro’s face, knocking out his front teeth. But that didn’t stop Massimo. He threw even more punches until he could barely lift his arms.
“You got nothing to say now, huh?” Massimo said as he stood to his feet.
Alessandro groaned in response. It must have sounded like words to Massimo because it pissed him off that he uttered a sound. Massimo lifted his foot and stomped on Alessandro. It didn’t matter where his foot landed. Massimo enjoyed hearing the wailing spilling from Alessandro’s lips. As Massimo considered everything Alessandro had done, he stomped him again and again. He heard ribs crack, and just as it had done with Alessandro, it encouraged Massimo to stomp him some more. Giuseppe and Giordano stood back and watched, living vicariously through Massimo. The last time he stomped on Alessandro, he didn’t have enough left in him to even moan.
Massimo was done. He was finished. He turned his back on Alessandro and started to walk away. Giuseppe and Giordano turned their backs, too, satisfied with what had transpired. Then, Massimo reached one of the guards they’d brought. His gun was holstered near the center of his back. Massimo reached for the gun and, in an instant, spun on his heels, cocking the gun as he spun and shot Alessandro. Giordano and Giuseppe spun back around and watched as Massimo emptied the clip. He kept firing even after the clip was empty.
Only then was Massimo satisfied.
Chapter Twelve
Isotta saw Massimo walk out of the building. She tried to gauge what happened, but his eyes were indistinguishable, swollen. His whole face seemed disfigured. One would think she would feel an insurmountable amount of gratitude for him saving her. And she was appreciative. Being under Alessandro’s grip was torturous. Isotta knew she would have nightmares and flashbacks of her captivity long after it was over. Isotta was glad to see Massimo had survived whatever Alessandro had planned for him. But she didn’t feel compelled to jump out of the car, run into his arms, and thank him. She didn’t feel that.
Celestina rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. Tears still streamed down her cheeks, but this time, tears streamed out of duality. She was sad, humiliated, and angry about what happened to herself and Isotta, but she was also so grateful that her husband rescued her. Celestina was glad he was right there with her, holding her, protecting her, even if it was too late to fully protect her. But at least Francesco showed up, which showed that he cared.
“Are you okay?” Massimo asked after opening the car door and squatting down so he could make eye contact with Isotta.
She marveled at his ability to see her through his swollen eyes.
