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Marco and I make it back to Temptation and head down to the basement. When we bought this building, I had my men create a lower level beneath the one shown on blueprints, effectively making a soundproofed cell. Letting Marco close the steel door and punch in the code to have it locked, I let the smell of fear invade my senses as my darkness rises to the surface. This is where I thrive, on the cries and pleas of my enemies.
My darkness bubbles up to the surface.
The demon I bury during the day comes out seeking its next prey, showing everyone why I am known as Gavriel the Cruel.
My neck and back are coiled with tension, hungry for blood and death. These pieces of shit tried to hurt my girl and take her from me. Tonight, they will reap what they've sown as I open them up searching for answers. I take a few steps deeper into the dank cell and see my men along the walls, heads nodding in respect as I pass them by.
"Evening, men," I say to them and revel in the whimpers coming from the cowards chained to the ceiling by the very hands that touched what's mine.
"Boss," they all reply in unison. These men have seen me do many dark things. They're ready for cleanup, but they know not to step in unless I or my brother ask them to. Marco slowly circles the two naked and bloodied men like a caged tiger, looking for the perfect spot to sink his jaws into. They touched his woman too, after all.
Marco kicks the legs of the one who tried to take Carla. "You two fucks touched the wrong women tonight." Their fear is palpable. The air smells of it and the urine stench tells us just how weak they are. Men like this think they're bad motherfuckers when they can overpower a woman, but they're just weak-kneed bitches when it comes to fighting a real man.
I'll take great pleasure in their suffering.
Their cries and ashy pallor fail to move me from the joy rushing through me.
"Who sent you here, to my club? Who sent you twopezzo di merdato take our girls?" I ask as I slowly slide out my black double edge blade from the leather holster around my chest. The motherfucker who had Carla cries out when Marco grabs him by the ear and slices it off.
Dangling the cut skin in front of his friend's face, he says, "I'd answer him now, if you want to save yourself all this torture."
The moron asks in a despicably weak voice, "You'll let me go if I tell you?"
Just for that stupid fucking question I swing my arm in rapid succession, leaving three slightly deep cuts zig-zagging across his stomach.
His screams are like a sweet serenade to my ears. Watching his disgusting blood flow takes me back to my first kill. The man I killed to get my button. My father took me down to the basement below his office, a place I didn't know existed until that moment. The Caporegimes and the underboss were all present. "This man is a betrayer. He helped set fire to the Romano mansion that killed your uncle. He's been in hiding all these years. He has broken his oaths and is no longer a man of honor. Rid the world of him, Gavriel Renzetti, and you'll become a made man," my father told me while I looked at the weak man sitting on the floor with his hands tied to the pole behind him. His mouth was bleeding profusely and in my young eighteen-year-old mind I thought he was already dead.
"He's dead, boss," I said, looking around at my father and his men.
"No, he's not,nipote. I took his tongue out when he decided it was okay to speak ill of the boss," my uncle said as my father handed me this same knife that night and I killed the first of many men with it since.
"I have a doctor here who can keep you alive for as long as I want. If you waste my time, I'll make your suffering last. Each day, I'll take skin from you and have the doctor sew you back up then give you the necessary amount of blood and nutrition to keep you alive so that you can suffer more." I smile at him while he shakes profoundly. I'm surprised his arms haven't dislocated yet.
The man missing his ear speaks up just as Marco places his blade to his other ear. "No! It was a job we got on the dark web. I swear!" He begins to sob like the fucking weak asshole he is.
"It's true," his friend says. "We saw a post of the Manhattan Singer with the title 'catch her and receive one million dollars.' We negotiated and got paid half last night. The guy or girl said they'd pay us the rest once we sent a video proving we had the Singer. That's it, man, that's all we know. Please, no more." His chin shakes, but he holds back his meaningless tears.
"What do you mean 'guy or girl'?" I ask him.
Thinking he's safe from more harm, thefiglio di puttanason of a bitchscoffs a little, "It's the dark web, man. You never know who you're working for. Could be the mayor, could be your fucking mother."
I grab his jaw and look at the nearest guard. "Get me a rag."
"Yes, boss," he says while the foolish bastard struggles against me.
"You dare speak of my mother? You worthless fucking prick. You're so low on the totem pole that you shouldn't be able to speak at all." I grab the rag offered to me and nod to the guard. He grabs both of the fucker's ears and twists, causing him to open his mouth on a scream. Marco has the other man's head facing me as I hold open his friend's jaw and reach in with the rag to pull out his tongue. With a quick swipe, I cut it off and drop the offending piece of trash.
His screams saturate the walls as well as the joyous laughter coming from Marco and me. I'll never have enough of their screams to elevate my need for death. Anyone who brings any harm to my woman will meet a worse fate than the last.
I let this motherfucker bleed while I turn to his friend who has vomit dripping off his chin. Looking at him with disgust, I demand more answers. "Is there a way to get in contact with the buyer?"
He sputters and coughs, trying to answer. I'm losing patience. I want to get this done so I can go home and feast on my woman's delectable pussy.
"On my laptop. It's in our room at a motel in south Manhattan. The key was in my pants pocket. The buyer's web name is Schemer71." He rattles off an address and room number that Marco typed in a text to me.
I look at Marco and say, "He's all yours, brother."
I grab a bottle of water and a clean towel that another guard hands me and clean my hands, knife, and face. "Call Tommy and have him go to the address. Tell him I need the laptop and all other personal effects in the room and meet up with Nico as soon as he's done." Nico is our youngest brother. He is the bestsicarioin thefamiglia. He's a hired hitman that is feared just as much as any one of the Renzetti family members and has earned the nickname Nico the Cold because of his stoic and almost sociopathic demeanor.
But he also has a very good knack for technology and is the best hacker in New York.
I don't wait for a reply. I know my demands will be followed. Instead I pick up my phone and text Nico to let him know that his tech skills will be needed today.
Time to find this motherfucker and stop him from breathing the same air as myprincipessa.
