God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

Arriving at the warehouse, I get out of the SUV and head to the side entrance.

“Carlo, go torture Stefano,” I say. “Just don’t kill him yet.”

He nods, and I stop by the room where Mrs. di Bella is being held.

“Are you going in?” Emilio asks.

“Yes. Go keep an eye on Carlo.”

When I’m alone, I think about everything Gabriella told me.

As ice flows through my veins, I open the door and step inside. I glance at Bobby, who’s been guarding her, and nod to the door.

After he leaves, my gaze settles on Mrs. di Bella, who’s tied to a chair.

“Comfortable?” I ask.

Her breaths explode over her lips, her skin pale with sorrow. Fear darkens her eyes as she stares at me.

“Gabriella told me what you did to her,” I murmur, my tone dark with anger. “What you allowed to be done to her.”

“It’s all lies,” she cries.

I dart forward, and grabbing hold of her neck, I force her and the chair backward until she slams into the concrete floor.

I pull out my gun from behind my back and press the barrel against her quivering lips.

“Open,” I order.

She tries to shake her head.

“Open your fucking mouth,” I shout.

Her lips part, and I shove the barrel so deep she gags.

“My wife…my fucking queen doesn’t lie. It’s one of the things I love about her,” I hiss. “I saw how you treated her.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

She tries to shake her head again, muttering something unintelligible around the barrel.

I look Mrs. di Bella dead in the eye and let every ounce of power radiate from me as I say, “You fucking hurt her for twenty-three years, but thank you for letting me be the first to say the words ‘I love you’ to her.”

Mrs. di Bella’s whole body trembles as she gives me a pleading look.

I hold her terrified gaze and pull the trigger. With my hand around her throat, I feel how her life instantly leaves her body, and I fucking savor the moment.

Letting go of her, I rise to my feet. I walk to the door and yank it open, then head to the restroom so I can wash her blood off my skin.

After I’ve cleaned the barrel of my gun, I tuck it back into the waistband of my pants.

I suck in a deep breath of air and exhale slowly before I leave the restroom to go see what Carlo’s been up to.

As I near the room where Stefano’s being held, I hear an agonizing scream. I shove the door open in time to see Carlo pressing a hot poker against Stefano’s sole.

“Good choice,” I say.

“I thought you’d like it,” he mutters as he tears the cooling poker away, taking some skin with it.

“Please,” Stefano cries. “Please. Enough.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t even gotten started.”

“No,” he sobs. “I beg you. I’m sorry. Please.”

Walking closer, I grab his face and lean down until I’m looking him dead in the eye. “Not once did Gabriella beg. You’re fucking weak.”

I shove him backward, then hold my hand out. “Cattle prod.”

“I’m sorry. I see my mistake now,” he weeps, his eyes feverish on the cattle prod as I take hold of it.

I press the prongs to his skin and watch with satisfaction as his body convulses from the electric current hitting him.

I don’t stop until he passes out, then glance at Emilio. “Pour me a drink.”

“Yes, boss.”

I set the cattle prod down on a table and look at Carlo. “I’ve decided, once all of this is taken care of, we’re going on vacation.”

“Where?” he asks as he crosses his arm over his chest.

“I’ll let Gabriella choose the destination.”

He nods. “It will do us all good to get away from New York for a week or two.”

“Here you go, boss,” Emilio says, holding out the tumbler of whiskey.

I take the drink and swallow a sip down.

“It’s Christmas day tomorrow,” Carlo mutters.

“Christ. I forgot.” I glance at him. “I didn’t get the women anything.”

“We’ve been busy.”

At least I can tell Gabriella I killed her family, and the vacation will be good news as well.

When I look at Emilio, he shakes his head. “Anything but shopping, boss.”

I almost let out a chuckle.

“I’ll call Savannah and ask her to bring something over,” Carlo offers. “Jewelry?”

I shake my head. “A new phone and laptop for Gabriella so it’s easier for her to make her tutorials.”

“And for your mother?” We think for a moment, then he says, “I have the perfect gift.”

“What?”

“Audiobooks.”

Christ.

I lift my hand and give Carlo’s shoulder a squeeze. “She’ll love that. Thanks.”

While Carlo steps out of the room to make the call, I toss the rest of the whiskey at Stefano’s face. “Wake up!”

Emilio moves closer and gives the fucker a couple of slaps.

Stefano lets out a groan, and when he lifts his head, I ask, “Ready?”

Spittle dribbles from his mouth as he shakes his head. “No.”

I pass the empty tumbler to Emilio and say, “Give me a knife.”

“No. Please,” Stefano starts to beg.

“And you wanted to be the Capo dei Capi.” I shake my head as I take the knife from Emilio. “Pathetic.”

I step closer to my cousin, and as I press the blade to his right side, I growl, “You’re fucking weak.”

Slowly, I push the blade into his flesh, and I drink in the sound of his cries.

I leave the knife embedded in his side so he doesn’t bleed too much and order, “Bring the bucket.”

When Emilio leaves the room, Carlo comes back in. “All set.”

“Good.”

I stare at Stefano, whose breaths are fast and shallow, his skin ghostly pale.

“I don’t think he’ll last much longer,” Carlo mutters.

Unfortunately, I agree. The fucker is much weaker than I thought.

When Emilio returns with a metal bucket, a blow torch, and a cage with rats, Stefano almost shits himself.

“Dio! No! Misericordia, per favore,” he begs for mercy.

“Take off the belt and strap the rats to him,” I order.

Emilio removes the belt, and Bobby has to help transfer the rats into the bucket before they strap it to him.

“No! No!” Stefano screams hysterically. “Nooooooo!”

I grab the blow torch and turn it on, and as I hold the flame to the back of the bucket, I watch as Stefano loses his ever-loving fucking mind.

This is what you get for fucking with me.

When the rats try to escape the heat, they start clawing and biting their way into Stefano’s stomach, and I drink in every fucking agonizing scream until his body goes into the shock from the rats tunneling their way into his guts.

When his head slumps forward, Emilio checks for a pulse, and only when he nods do I turn off the blow torch.

“Bobby, get the men to clean up,” I order.

“On it, boss.”

When I walk out of the room with Carlo beside me and Emilio at my back, the corner of my mouth lifts.

Finally, I can take a fucking vacation.