“Bratva bastards at Spice,” Dante mutters.
“Not for long.”
Eros raises his beloved ax at my nod and cleaves the man’s head in two. The night’s first carnage.
The sound carries, and everyone is standing as still as statues when we enter the VIP Room. Some of the men are strangers to me and some are not. And then there are the girls, a dozen high school girls who’ve been parading around on a makeshift stage in the middle of the cage. All of them wearing short dresses and high heels with numbers hanging around their necks.The private runway showcase.They’re too young with eyes too full of stars to realizethey’re on a fucking auction block.
Thinking of my wife and daughter, knowing my sister-in-law could easily have been on that stage tonight, I pull my knife, ramming it into the eye socket of the first man I encounter. Several of the girls scream as the rest of my men spring into action.
Our opponents were not expecting company, and they’re all a little drunk on alcohol, lust and power. They’re easy pickings for the most part, though a few return gunfire.
“Giacomo is mine,” I snarl once we’ve overwhelmed them, pointing at the familiar wavy head of hair with my bloody blade. “Keep him alive. Gut the rest.”
The girls are clinging to each other in terror. We’re the monsters in their eyes. We are monsters but not the sort they need fear.
“What do we do with them?” Eros asks, uneasily. Blood still drips from his ax, but my cousin is rattled by crying teenagers.
I glance at my brother, hoping for a suggestion. Dante shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I held one captive, remember? You need to get that looked at, Nico,” he adds, pointing at my neck and ear.
“It’s nothing.” I barely felt the bullet that grazed me.
Checking my wristwatch, I realize it’s already past ten o’clock on Christmas Eve. The children will be in bed, but I desperately want to go home to my wife. Even if our marriage is merely an agreement. Even if she’s a beauty married to a hideous monster.
First things first though. “Round up the girls. Gently,” I order. “We’ll see where they belong and if it’s wise to return them there. Dante, I need to visit your little love nest again.” My brother scowls but hands me his keys.
***
Not too far outside of Chicago, my brother bought a cabin on Lake Michigan a year ago. Unlike the family farm, this quiet lakefront getaway was meant to be his retreat when the Beast desired solitude.
More recently, he tried playing the role of a doting kidnapper here.
It didn't work out.
But Dante's cabin is equipped for more than lazy days on the shore.
In the soundproofed, hidden basement, I circle Giacomo, who’s strapped to a steel chair that’s bolted to the floor. He began crying, spilling every detail I’d already heard today before I even started. A Made Man of the Trio should be made of sterner stuff.
I claimed the rest of his fingers first. No swift stroke with my favorite blade this time, I’d chosen a sawtooth one. Slowly, back and forth, as the boastful Barzetti fool screamed shrilly.
“Kill me,” he pleads when I reach for a blowtorch. All that thick, wavy hair, begging to be burned away like his disgusting uncle was.
“Because it’s nearly Christmas, I will grant you that mercy, Giacomo… but not yet.”
35
Matilde
Aquick text many hours ago saying business would run late is all I got, butsomethingis happening, and I’m scared. It’s past two in the morning. I’ve just rolled over again when I hear noises downstairs. He’s home. I leap out of bed, pretty sure I’m going to strangle him for causing me this much worry.
“These men can take over for you. Get some rest. Enjoy your holiday but then we have work to do,” I hear my husband tell the bodyguards. There are three other Trio men in the darkened foyer, faces I'm becoming familiar with.
Hovering at the head of the staircase, my entire body responds when Nico’s eyes sweep over me. “That is all,” he says gruffly, taking the stairs two at a time.
My heart skips a beat, but trepidation mixes with my excitement because I sense something feral simmering under the cool mask. I won’t suggest going to see the sleeping babies until I get a better idea of what’s going on with him.
He stops one step below, but he’s still taller than me. He last left the house impeccably dressed in a suit as always. Now, his dark hair is disheveled and his white dress shirt…
“Buon Natale. Mi dispiace, tesoro. Perdonami, per favore,”he murmurs.
