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Fuck all of them!
I smiled when Iago’s plot came to fruition in Othello. For me, he was the true hero.
These books were my true companions. Their words resonated with my soul, fueling my desire for retribution.
Still, my favorite book, the Count of Monte Cristo lay on my bed. Its pages worn from repeated reading.
Edmond’s tale of betrayal, false imprisonment, and eventual triumph over his enemies had become my anthem.
The intricacy of his revenge.
The patience.
The mind-numbing cunning he employed.
It nurtured my own thirst for justice.
But most of all, that story served as my biggest mentor—a blueprint—guiding me through the darkness.
I learned the costs, the sacrifices, and the determination required.
Though my body was confined, my spirit was free, unbroken and ready to destroy Francesca and all of the Crimson Mob.
Five years of meticulous planning.
Soon.
Very soon.
It would all come together.
Today could be the day it goes into motion.
Hanging in the air, I gripped the old, sturdy pipe running along the ceiling of my cell. And with all the strength I had, I pulled myself up until my chin touched the cold metal, counting the reps in my head.
81.
The pipe was a relic of the prison’s earlier years, part of the original plumbing, perhaps, left untouched during renovations.
82.
It was rusty in places, worn smooth by the countless hands that had grasped it over the years.
Still, it was solid.
Unyielding.
83.
My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed through the pain, welcoming it as a reminder that I was alive, that I was growing stronger, bigger than I had ever been.
84.
The muscles in my back, shoulders, and arms strained and flexed.
85.
My mind drifted, as it often did, to the past.
To her.
Zuri.
My love.
86, and stop thinking about her.
Old pictures of Zuri adorned my cell wall, faded and wrinkled from time and the countless occasions when I had held them, seeking solace and connection in a world that had turned its back on me.
87.
A few stains decorated the pictures of her in bikinis, due to my jacking off to the images at night and accidentally getting sperm on them.
88.
I’d taken those pictures with me everywhere, tucked into my uniform, hidden away like a precious secret.
And, they’d become more than just photos.
They were my tether to sanity, a reminder of love and life and everything I had once had, and everything I’d lost.
89.
The sharp clang of the cell door yanked me back to the present, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Rocco standing in the doorway.
90.
I dropped down from the beam.
My feet hit the cold floor with a thud.
Did the plan work?
I faced Rocco and cracked my neck.
A nervous edge crept into his voice. “Didn’t you already work out this morning?”
“I decided to do some more.” I cracked the other side of my neck. “Never mind that. How was your visit with your father?”
“Good one.” He wore a knowing smile, waiting for me to push further.
Usually, I wouldn’t care about other inmates’ visits. No one ever came to visit me anymore, so to talk about their visits would only make me jealous.
But Rocco’s father was Sabato “the Whisper” Martelli, and that changed everything.
The Viper Mob, led by Sabato, was a ruthless force of violence and terror. More importantly, they were the nemesis of the Crimson Mob.
Sworn enemies.
Always, our two crews collided with a ferocity that shook the foundations of our city. And with my time behind bars, the bloodthirsty rivalry between them had only intensified with each passing year.
Please have good news.
Rocco’s allegiance to his father and the Viper Mob, combined with his newfound loyalty to me, made him a valuable asset in my quest for revenge.
“Come on,” I raised my eyebrows, “you’ve got me on edge.”
“Good news.” He held out his hand to shake mine. “You’re now working for the Viper Mob.”
Fuck yes.
I grabbed his hand and shook it. “You did it.”
“Of course, I did. You saved me from those five fucking goons in the cafeteria on my first day in here. My people were on their way to help, but you got there faster. Saved my life.”
“I had to, you seemed like a stand-up guy. There’s not many of those in here.”
“Hells yes, man. I told my dad everything. He respected it all.”
What Rocco didn’t know was that I had paid the five guys to go after him, and then made sure I was in the perfect position to save him. It was a calculated move, a way to earn his trust, to manipulate the situation to my advantage.
And it worked perfectly.
Rocco was loyal to me now.
A valuable asset.
A pawn in my carefully orchestrated game.
Rocco smiled. “I also told Dad about how the Red Widow fucked you over.”
I leaned my head to the side. “Oh yeah.”
“He sympathized with all that had happened.”
I bet he did, and I bet he knew who the fuck I was long before you said my name.
