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“I’m glad it’s only a week away because they can’t keep their hands off each other,” Natalya’s sister says.
“Young love.”
“Please,” my brother scoffs.
“What’s that supposed to mean, young man?” my father asks.
“We all know to keep our distance from a closed door when you and Mother are inside.”
“It’s the same in our house as well. Young love—yeah, right,” Natalya says. “I only hope to have a love like that in thirty years.”
“We will.” I raise her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it. “I promise.”
After dinner, coffee and vodka are brought around, and we talk of wedding plans. However, there is another matter on my mind—one that won’t go away until I’m sure it’s dead and buried. My fingers itch, rubbing the rim of my cold glass as I sit making small talk.
“Men, I believe the wedding talk should be left for the ladies. We have some things to handle,” my father says. There is a look shared between the men and a smile stretches across my face. I’ve been waiting for this moment, itching to take my revenge and when I look at my godfather, his expression mirrors mine. Although, the fucker is definitely more menacing. We stand and say a brief goodbye to each of our women before leaving the table.
“Yes, please do handle it soon because it will take a long time,” my godmother, Rosalyn, says with a viciousness I’ve only heard about and yet never witnessed. That is exactly where Natalya gets that strength from, and I know that one day she’ll rule strongly beside me.
My little queen pushes her chair back and walks around to where us men have congregated toward the dining room door. “Before you go, I want to tell you what Fratelli said to me.”
“Go on,” her father says, teeth clenched, tension radiating off him. I know anything Fratelli said would be brutal and fucked up, but I hold back my rage.
“He said that after he was done using me, he was going to send a piece of me to my father, and then another piece of me to my lover.” I could almost hear my teeth crack when she finished.
“My beloved, thank you for telling us. Now, go on and plan our wedding.” I kiss her temple, and her father kisses her forehead. “Let’s send a piece to his family and his men.” I crack my knuckles.
“Damn right. The bastard dared to threaten my baby.” Drago pulls out a blade from his pocket, opening it up and brushing it against his chin. “I’m going to enjoy every minute of this.”
“Remember, men. We have to make this last,” my father says.
Drago claps my father’s shoulder, nodding. “Yes, Roman. I want him to slowly die. Every single one of us has a need to exact revenge on this piece of shit.” My father wants to make him pay for hurting me and scaring my parents. My near death sentthem into a terrible place, and they want Fratelli to pay for his crimes.
We open the room where our special guest is waiting, and he’s nearly pissing in his pants but the bravado hasn’t left him yet. “So, it takes all of you to come after me because he’s too weak to face me alone?” he asks, pointing his insult at me.
“No. Your death has been earned by the hand of each and every one of us. Unfortunately, we can’t decide who should get the kill, so we’ll all take turns destroying you until all that’s left are the pieces we send to your family.”
“Wait—maybe we can work something out.”
“There’s nothing to work out. You tried to kill my son on more than one occasion.” My father takes the first strike, sending Nico flailing back on the floor, chains clanging. He attempts to throw an arm up to block the next strike, but my father has a practiced fist and switches his swing to a side buster.
Anatoly steps up. He grips Fratelli by his black and gray hair, yanking it back, and pulls out his own blade. “You killed my innocent employees, you almost killed me, and you tried to kill my oldest friend.” With a painfully slow slice, he scalps a generous chunk from Fratelli’s head. Damn, Petrov’s sicker than I thought.
Stepping back, it’s my godfather’s turn. “You tried to kidnap my daughter five times. The people you sent in to take my princess failed every time because we love her with everything we have. You picked the wrong families to fuck with.” I look at him strangely because I only know of the three times.
“I didn’t give you the tip for the warehouse for no reason. He came for her before her sweet sixteen. I thought that wouldbe a lesson to him. Hell, I even let him know that was for trying to nab my daughter, but he didn’t learn.” He takes his blade and goes to town, slicing cuts as Fratelli tries to shield himself but it does no good.
My godfather reins in his violence and steps back. He turns to me, wiping the blood off his cheek. “I’m not done, but I don’t want him to pass out before you get your turn.” The demon is in his eyes, and I nod.
Smiling at the stupid fucking pussy, I consider how I’ll destroy him, but he’s barely hanging on. “This is all over wanting my woman.”
“She would have made a perfect whore for the market or my bed,” he spits out. We know he deals in human trafficking, but the words are enough for all of us.
“You couldn’t just leave well enough alone. No, you just couldn’t.”
The violent rage in me is too intense, but I know that once I start, I won’t stop. “Now—I don’t have enough restraint to stop from killing you.” I step back and look at my godfather. “Drago, I offer you this gift for giving me Natalya’s hand.”
He smiles. “Are you sure?”
