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He did not respond to that. "Rina was not able to have children. We tried for a very long time, but… well. That's in the past."
I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more he would have liked to say, but he was getting in his own way and just couldn't bring himself to be honest with me.
"Why did you want to know about my father?"
"So I can weigh whether or not it is wise to kill him."
"Why now? You could have done it days ago, and the wedding would have been moot."
"Because I thought it was unwise at the time, but now he's starting to make more demands that I'm not willing to meet. But it continues not to be a wise idea to act rashly."
I nodded. "Maybe you should talk to Emilio about it. I can put together all the files I have accumulated on him."
"Why didn't you ever tell Emilio about it before? He could have taken care of it years ago."
I raised my shoulders and swallowed. "Because he's my father, and I never wanted to be the one to deal him a death blow."
"If anything happens to him, it's not your fault."
I pressed my lips together and hoped that the conversation was over. It was hard to imagine Vincenzo saying such things to calm me down and remove some of the anxiety that had suddenly risen in my stomach.
It was not very reassuring to hear him speak indifferently about the death of another person, who was also my father. Again and again, I had to remind myself that I was talking about Vincenzo de Archard. The former boss of the mafia. There was probably far more blood on his hands than I could or wanted to imagine. I didn't know if I could still deal with him so light heartedly once I was fully aware of everything he had to answer for.
I watched him saunter back into the house and disappear into his rooms as if we had never had this conversation. He would probably behave in precisely the same way whenever we met again.
7
Vincenzo
With my arms crossed, I stood at the end of the low aisle and stared through the bars at my right before turning to my left and looking into the small cell to ensure nothing had changed.
Fiero had been busy keeping our prisoners quiet all week and making sure they didn't accidentally give away their presence. I had warned Amedea not to go into the cellar, but she did not seem like a woman who followed instructions and did what she was told.
On the contrary, she was curious enough to climb down the stairs and see if I had told her the truth about the danger of collapsing and getting lost. Not for nothing had it been necessary to put an additional lock on the door that led to the cellar.
I was stared at with sunken eyes, but I did not feel the slightest bit of pity for thepoorsouls down here waiting to see what fate would befall them.
For the moment, they were tormented with Fiero gagging their mouths and tightening their bonds. He had also come up with the idea of changing their meals. Instead of throwing some food at their feet once a day, Fiero had thoroughly researched what it took to feed someone through a feeding tube.
It was a new, unprecedented level of cruelty, but every single man sitting down here deserved it. Only five were left; by the night's end, there would be two.
Until Amedea moved out, I had to pause the whole project, even though some days it was the only thing that kept me together and made sure I didn't lose my mind.
I leaned against the bars, pulled out the phone, and checked to make sure Fiero was on his way and that the booking for tonight still stood. I sent the clients the location where we would meet and some final info they needed before we could start the hunt.
"Tonight you meet your maker,mostros," I growled, taking down the water hose from the wall and spraying out the cells. Infections were undesirable; therefore, it was important to ensure a certain level of hygiene down here. Besides, it stank less then and just because I took care of it didn't mean it was pleasant for the middle-aged men.
After all, the water was icy cold, they had hardly any clothes and certainly no comfortable bedding, and I also, denied them any luxury. The scum of our society did not deserve more. No more was due to wife beaters or sex criminals.
The only thing they deserved was death, and even that they had to wait for before I allowed them their last chance to escape this fate.
I hummed a happy song while spraying the rest of the cells, hardly noticing the captured men. They were bound, fixed to the stone walls, and had no possibility of escaping or harming me.
They should know I was not interested in them or what happened to them. They enjoyed my full attention only twice during their stay: when I kidnapped them, and killed them.
I replaced their names with abbreviations, making it easier for me to track my successes.
In total, I spent maybe thirty minutes in the cellar because the real fun occurred later when night had fallen over the mountains.
