Twelve

Damian

I sit in my office, waiting for my father, mother, Stefano, Alexandr, and Sergi to arrive. We have business to discuss, and not family business, either, even though that's the only thing going right for us these days. This is about my wife, whom we've hopefully finally found.

My father is the first to arrive, and I stand up to greet him with a quick side hug. My mother is close behind and kisses my cheek. As soon as we separate, my brother and Sergi walk in, both giving me a head nod, then taking a seat on the gray sofa my wife bought for the old house as a gift for my home office. I placed it under the window overlooking the garden, another reminder of what a complete dick I was, but I couldn't part with it; she was so excited when she showed it to me.

Stefano is the last to arrive. He shakes my hand, and then stands near the door. I get right to it.

"Stefano had a call regarding a 23-year-old woman, dark hair with blue streaks in it, dark blue eyes, in Marfa, Texas. She's just completed her nursing degree. I've looked into it myself this time, and I think it's her. I had a discrete man go there and observe for a week, and I have some pictures here." I place the pictures on my desk and everyone looks on in utter shock.

Stefano is the first to snap out of it and starts picking up the pictures. I see the first one he picks up; she's wearing a black tank top, jean shorts, and brown cowgirl boots. Her hair is in a messy knot on the top of her head, some dark and blue strands fall down the sides of her face, which is clean of make-up, and she's standing in front of some woman called Gloria, who is wearing a t-shirt with my wife's face on it. Both women are laughing and look carefree.

"Yes, this looks like her, but I don't think it is Damian," Stefano states with a sigh, and I understand that he thinks I'm seeing things I want to see. I thought I was, too, until the next photo.

"Pick up the next photo, Stefano," I say in a deep voice. That snaps the rest out of their stupor, and they crowd around to look at the next picture. Standing next to a grocery cart is my beautiful wife. She's in a light blue, strappy sundress that falls just below her knees, with strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair is down, the blue streaks suiting her perfectly, and her face is again without make-up. Still, it's the things hanging from the necklace around her neck that automatically caught my attention—her engagement and wedding rings!

I know when they see them because my mother gasps out a small cry. She loved Sofia as a daughter, and when my parents found out why she left, my mother didn't talk to me for six months. My father was already aware, as was Stefano. My mother had to be restrained after she took Dad's gun, then went to the front door, clearly wanting to find Candice, Mindy, and Luna, too. The next morning, at the wedding brunch, Luna made a point of asking where Sofia was. Something about the look in my eyes scared her, but that didn’t stop her from shouting, "I'm sorry, I was drunk; I didn't mean to tell her we were together three years ago."

Her outburst only reminded me that my wife had helped her to bed, but it told everyone else that there were already problems in my marriage. My father and Sofia's father's faces turned bright red, my mother cried out, Emilia gasped and turned to her daughter in shock, while Victoria just chuckled, stating, "This is why I didn't want her to marry a mafia man, and why I wanted to leave with her when she was eight."

Stefano to flipped a table, none of us realizing Victoria had wanted to leave with her daughter.

Good times.

"It's my grandmother's ring!" my mother cries out, bringing me back to now. The men look through the rest of the photo's showing Sofia at college, visiting the hospital, going shopping, hanging out with her friends, and looking after her friend's kid. The picture only shows the back of the child's head, so we don't know what she looks like, but we guess she's around two or three.

"Who are these two guys she's constantly with?" Stefano growls.

"Partners, Adam Vernal and Bruce Thomas, both checks came back clean. They've been an item for five years," I stated while reading the report.

Alexandr slaps takes the report and reads through it. "So, she's okay, healthy by the looks of it, just completed her nursing degree while working full time, lives in a small apartment, and is close to her boss, the two men, and by the looks of the report, her neighbor April and April’s little girl. There’s also a woman called Rachel who works at a restaurant called The Tavern. So, what do we do?"

I swallow hard as my brother continues, "Do we fly there and bring her home, or do we let her continue to live her life where she seems to be happy, content, and carefree?"

I growl, picking up the paperweight on my desk and throwing it toward him. He ducks just in time, looking at me guiltily. I know I should leave her be, maybe send divorce papers, but I can't. I can't let her go. I'm too selfish. I need her. I have needed her since I was twelve years old.

I look into my father's eyes, which are so much like mine. He nods in understanding, seeing my determination to win my wife back.

"She's his wife, he is the next leader of the Bratva, a Pahkan, and the next Don of the Italian mafia. She needs to come home, but not because we force her to. Damian needs to woo her again, but this time, beg her and do everything he can to convince her to come home. It'll take time, but if he forces her, he'll lose her for good," my father says to everyone in the room while looking at me, and I'm now the one to nod in understanding. I have a lot of work cut out for me.

I look at Stefano, my brother, Sergi, and then my mother and, one by one, they nod.

My mother, though, walks up to me and hugs me, saying softly, "Bring our girl home, please, son." I nod and squeeze her tight.

We stay in my office for a few hours to develop the best plan. After a lot of arguing on my part, it is agreed that, in two days, Alexandr would approach her first, knowing I am the last person she'll want to see. We set it all in motion, agreeing Sergi should stay behind as my second, much to his distress, because he wants to see her, too. To him, she's his sister.

There's a knock on my office door, and a guard enters.

"Mr. Russo, your wife is at the entrance, she wants to talk to you. Also, Mr. Volkov, we've found the traitor and the four men rumored to be with him. He's in the basement." Then he turns and walks out. My father and Stefano look at me, wanting me to step up.

"Dad, Alexandr, and Sergi, go to the basement, start questioning the traitor, get the men to line up my tools for when I get down there, and make sure the men who are rumored to be a part of his plans are there to witness everything, so this doesn't happen again."

I turn to look at my mother; she smiles and places a kiss on my cheek before whispering, "It'll all work out." She then turns to walk out of the office.

I turn to Stefano and say, "Let's see what the wicked witch wants, shall we?" He chuckles, following me out. He may be married to her, but since Sofia left, instead of becoming closer, he grew more distant, which angered Victoria. She knows she can't leave him because she'll get a bullet between the eyes, so she puts up with it, but then tries to get into our business, where she is not welcome.

"Victoria, what a surprise!" I state once we get to the reception area on the ground floor. She looks at me, scowling like I'm beneath her shoe because of what I did to her daughter. She's been looking at me with distaste more often recently.

"I've come to talk to my husband, not the man who drove away my daughter," she says with a sneer. That’s funny, considering she never tried to help find her; she only brought the waterworks when it suited her, then got flat-out drunk.

"What do you need, Victoria? I told you we were having a meeting," Stefano says, then sighs, and I feel for him. She's a viper, but she looks at him longingly. It's clear she's a bitch, but how much of that is a reaction to the pain of her broken marriage?

"And when I called the household to speak with Maria, the maid stated he was in the meeting, so I guessed it was about our daughter. I should be involved, don't you think?"

Stefano crosses his arms over his chest and says, "You haven't tried to be involved in finding her for three years; why would I involve you now?" She goes bright red.

"Actually, I have, just not with you; every time I tried to call you, your mistress would answer, so I took matters into my own hands, or are you forgetting I have my own money from my mother?" she sneers in rage.

What the fuck?

She hasn't been a mother to Sofia at all, yet she's been looking for her for years? I thought she was just drinking herself to death.

Way to go, Stefano. One way to push your wife further away is to get your mistress to answer your phone! Idiot.

"I think I found her in Texas; that's why I wanted to be involved, but now I see I should have just gone with Mattia on my own!"

Shit, we can't have her interfering; we still don’t know why Sofia always had those bruises.

I walk closer to her and say, "It doesn't matter anyway; we already looked into it. It's not her. I'm sorry."

I turn and walk away as she screams and cries, "It's her; I know it is. It has to be," over and over. I look at her, and for the first time in years, I see real emotion. I sigh, nod to Stefano who nods back, then go down to the basement and let him try to sort his wife out. I feel bad, but she shouldn't know she was onto something until we figure out what was going on under their roof while Sofia was there. Stefano never investigated it.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I head through the steel door into the soundproof part of the basement. The traitor is stripped naked, hanging by his hands from the ceiling, covered in bruises. Looks like the others started the fun without me. The four men rumored to be working with him are standing at the back wall, watching with pale faces.

"Son, Mikhail was offered $3 million to get the whereabouts of our warehouses, the drop-off and pick-up times for our guns, and where the security cameras were located for the Greek Mafia don, Adrian Adino. They were then to report back to him next week. He doesn't know why, but I call it for what it is, gentlemen: bullshit," Father states in a low growl, trying to hide his smirk.

"Perfect, I need a release for my anger." Mikhail pales, and I hear a deep intake of breath from the men standing near the wall. There are rumors about how I torture, all true but never witnessed by anyone outside my family, anyone who lived to tell the tale, anyway. I head toward my table and pick up a small, sharp knife, then turn back to our traitor.

"Please, Damian, please, I needed the money; I'm in debt. I've gambled away everything. Please! Adrian is losing money; he paid the last of it to me to get the information. His men are leaving him, and his brother is trying to fight for leadership. I'm sorry, please."

I smirk. "I know why he needs your help." I lean in close. "I know everything. Who do you think is helping Basil take over? His daughter Phoebe Adino is arranged to be married to Alexandr next year; the three million was sent back, but to Basil, not Adrian, and as we currently speak, his car is being blown up with explosives we gave Basil. All I wanted to know was who betrayed the Bratva because we don't like traitors here. Traitors die." He pales even more, then proceeds to piss on himself. I just managed to step back, and miss being pissed on as Alexandr and Sergi chuckle. My father just smirks, shaking his head.

"It's a lucky day for you, really. They only got a few hits in, but I'm the only one who'll be torturing today."

My father smirks as Mikhail begins to tremble violently.

I take the knife and place the tip on this shoulder, then dig it in. He cries out, which makes everyone laugh.

"Oh dear, it looks like someone has a low pain tolerance," I mock, then proceed to slice thin pieces of flesh from his body. I go back to my table and grab the plyers, then walk back to our traitor and slowly rip his nails from of his fingers. He passes out, so I step back, and Sergi throws a cold bucket of water over him. He gasps, waking up coughing. I then grab my knife again, and along with the pliers. I use the pliers to hold the tip of his dick, then use the knife to slice it off. He screams, then proceeds to pass out again. Sergi comes back with another bucket of cold water. This lasts for about an hour. I have a lot of anger and regret to work through. Torture seems to help. By the time I'm done, the only skin left on him is his face and back.

Alexandr checks Mikhail’s pulse, then he looks at me, then toward the four other men.

"Dead."

I turn to look at them, covered in their comrade’s blood.

"Let this be a warning for you. No second chances."

Three of the men pale, and the fourth vomits everywhere. Hmm, good. I turn and walk out to shower and pack, ready for our flight tomorrow morning. It's time to get my girl back.

I see a lot of groveling in my future.