Chapter 28

I stare at the gifts the Italians have bestowed upon us. I'm unsure why they've chosen to help us in this way. I had anticipated they would send some men to help but I wouldn't have trusted that arrangement either.

Julian enters the room, his mask on and knife in hand. He toys with the sharp point, allowing the overhead light above to glint off the blade's reflection. The men before us tremble in fear, each one crying and pleading for their life in the same desperate manner.

As I walk the line of men, a familiar face stops me in my tracks. I recognize him, I've only ever seen this man when I watched my Catalina from a distance, the one that would watch her like he wanted to fuck her.

This is our fucking mole? He'd been so insignificant to our team, that I can't even recall his fucking name. Matteo, perhaps? He looks like a fucking Matteo. His eyes are bloodshot, snot staining his face and down onto that beer belly of his. I know Julian won't show him any mercy, knowing this fucker betrayed his family.

"Are you ready to tell us where Catalina is?" I demand, my voice tinged with fury. I swiftly shrug off my jacket, allowing it to drop to the floor. I'm not sure if these men know Catalina's whereabouts, but I suspect they might have overheard something or picked up a clue that could point us in the right direction. My men stand behind me, creating a human barrier by the door in case anyone tries to escape - not that they'd get very far, with the additional guards outside the basement and at the end of the hallway.

Julian follows my lead, shrugging off his own jacket, tossing his knife back and forth between his hands until the it falls to the floor. He rolls up the sleeves of his white button-up, continuing his scare tactic with his blade. I carefully roll up my own sleeves, my movement a little more controlled and steady as the silence in the room becomes deafening.

I glare at the mole. "Talk, or I rip out your teeth one by fucking one, until you drown in your own blood." Matteo trembles, the stench of fear and urine thick in the air. My men chuckle at their cowardice.

My chuckles follow as I pick up a knife from the steel table beside the entrance and approach our prisoners. "Eeny. Meeny. Miny. Moe," I point the blade at one man and then the next as I continue the little nursery rhyme I had learned when I was a kid. "Catch a tiger by the toe." With a swift motion, I slice off the ear of one prisoner, like cutting meat at a butcher's. The man howls in pain, while the others continue their cries.

I continue going down the line, carving shallow cuts into each of their faces. "If he hollers. Let him go. Eeny," slice , "Meeny," slice , "Miny," slice , "Moe." The knife leaves thin trails of blood dripping down each of their faces. Tucking the blade into my waistband, I wait, giving them a chance to talk.

I raise my eyebrows questioningly, but the men remain a blubbering mess, their pleas growing increasingly frantic. "Por favor," one yells, as the others cry and plead louder, begging, to the point where now I'm irritated. "We know nothing. Please spare us."

Julian starts swinging his knife back and forth, like a madman wielding a sword. He advances closer and closer to the men on their knees. His laughter is haunting. He continues his motions, closer and closer until he slices one right across the chest. Blood pours out of him like a waterfall, as the others scream and cry in horror. One man even vomits all over himself. Fuck. This is not going to end well.

I crack my knuckles and grab one of the men by the back of his neck. His tattoos are on full display, showcasing his allegiance to his people and the gang he's a part of. I clench my fists and swing, knocking the wind out of him with the punch to his chest. My mind goes black as I continue landing a few more blows. Reaching for the knife, I carefully bring the sharp point to his skin as he struggles to catch his breath. I angle the blade just right and gently dig it into his flesh, carving him the same precision you would use to skin an animal being prepared for meat. His tattooed skin peels away from the blade, blood dripping down from his wound.

I continue my methodical movements, carving away every piece of Columbian related tattoo until his body is covered in patches of blood. Julian takes a different approach, slicing more of them open to expose their organs. While he prefers the beauty of a rather quick kill, I like to prolong their suffering. I want them to feel the full agony of every cut, every pull, and every crack as I systematically torture them. I make good on my promise, ensuring they feel everything while I extract some of their teeth one by one from their gums.

We continue on with our brutal quest for vengeance; each of them torn apart by Julian and myself. Each person suffers increasingly gruesome torture. Most of them could only cry and beg for us to stop. The few that Julian tortured died instantly, while some lived long enough to plead for forgiveness to God, as if that would have helped. The evil I had carefully concealed is finally coming unleashed, creating chaos with every step.

Of the 15 men that were delivered to us, only Matteo remains alive. We purposely left him alive, knowing that the fucker knows valuable information. If the dead bodies around him aren't enough to get him to talk, Julian might go batshit. Our clothes are soaked in blood, the once white shirt now crimson from Julian's excessive bloodshed.

Gio and his men returned several hours later to clear out the basement as we showered and changed our clothes, settling ourselves in before being escorted back to the basement. That fucker, Matteo still remains on his knees, surrounded by several new unfamiliar faces all on their knees in the same position.

"Let me know if you need anything," Gio says simply, patting my shoulder on his way out. The fact that he permitted us to commit murder in his casino without concern, is astonishing. Is this what the mafia life is truly like? Fuck. I should have stuck around if it meant I could do as I please. I hadn't realized it could be so liberating, so freeing.

"Have you spoken to Rocco about the deal with the Italians?" Julian questions, pulling me from my thoughts about making an official career change. Once I marry Catalina, I would technically be involved. So, I guess that's natural, right? That's if her brother's allow that little detail, and hopefully we don't start another war with the Italians by not letting her marry whoever they chose for her. Julian nods towards the door where a visibly exhausted Rocco waits, waiting for me like he knew we needed to talk,

"Well, what exactly do we have to speak about when I have men to torture and my girl to find?" Julian crosses his hands uncertain how to respond. He doesn't glare at me in anger, his emotions are withdrawn like he's come to terms with me and her. Or is that wishful thinking?

Their childish refusal to speak is fucking infuriating. I approach Rocco, who steps aside to let me pass down the hallway. I glare at him in silence, uncertain what one of my best friends and my childhood best friends are hiding.

"I told you Dario is my cousin, right? But, I left part of the story out," he confesses, pausing a little too long for my liking.

"Jesus, just fucking spit it out," I demand, irritated at the way he's retreating already. It must be serious if he's hiding like a fucking turtle in his shell.

"Well, my uncle, Don Salvatore Mancini actually sent me to the states. When he passed away, Dario had allowed me to stay because I had requested to remain by your side."

I furrow my brow. "Can you be any more cryptic? I don't understand why the head of the fucking mafia would care to send you to the U.S and have you infiltrate the military." I'm clearly fucking missing something; he's hiding something else and I'm about to fucking strangle him.

"Your father was Salvatore Mancini. He had me watch over you and report back to him ever since we met. When he passed away, he included you in his will. Dario didn't know about your existence until then and he had to be sure you could be trusted. He also wanted to protect you from the dangers of this world."

Rage boils within me. I'll kill him. I'll fucking kill him for hiding this from me. My fist clenches, and without giving him a warning I lash out, slamming my fist straight into his jaw. The impact sends him staggering back a few feet.

"Fuck, okay. I had that coming," he admits, rubbing his sore jaw. "Dario kept quiet about it, because he wanted to ensure he kept his promise to protect Catalina. He was planning on having you marry her as a way to make amends and secure the alliance."

"How the fuck did he know my interest in her? Did you fucking tell him?" I demand, stepping forward and swinging my fist towards his face again.

"He didn't. I didn't." he stuttered, "He was going to have me marry her, but when he saw you two together in Vegas, he knew. So, he took a chance by getting you that room, hoping to confirm his suspicions. When you both went into your room it was obvious that he was right. He also gave you that room because he's into the same things, and he hoped you would appreciate it."

I nod, and slam my fist against his face again before walking back to the room where Julian is slicing up a man's stomach. His mask and white shirt are already soaked in blood.

"When did you find out?" I ask, taking the knife he offers me. As Julian rises to his full height, allowing the now lifeless body drop to the floor as the other men continue to watch. Fucking Matteo is still alive, still witnessing the torture of his people.

"When we arrived in Italy. Dario was already waiting for us. He asked about you, and our history together. They seemed to already know most of the information we provided but I think it was just to solidify that we were friends. Dario agreed to help, because he wanted an introduction with you so he could meet his little brother. He secured the marriage without telling us who Catalina would have had to marry. We only agreed to renegotiate the terms on a later date. Either I or Marcelo would request marrying Regina, your half-sister," he says shrugging his shoulders. I scoff, then proceed toslit the throat of the man kneeling before me.

The sight of the man's blood pouring out causes me to black out, or maybe it all just blurs together. Stabbing, slicing, and punching, until the man is reduced to lifeless fragments of their former selves. Matteo is still unwilling to divulge any information. We at least know that this asshole knows something. Turning to Julian, I prepare to torture the man who betrayed us. Julian's familiar features trigger memories of our childhood, when we'd gleefully bully and wreak havoc.

The buzzing of my phone brings us both back to reality. Our breathing is heavy as if we'd just run a marathon. It's been just over 24 hours since Lina and Sierra went missing - the most critical time. Ry's been working nonstop to find the girls, so when his name flashes on my screen, my stomach drops with a mix of fear and anticipation for the violence that's about to unfold once we get them back.

"Ry," I answer, wiping my hands on my already bloodied pants. Any attempt to clean it off is futile, but I can't stop trying. I grab two small towels from the table full of weapons, handing one to Julian. We wait, hearts pounding, praying for good news.

"I found them. Took a bit with the amount of car swaps they did but I found them. They're holed up in a warehouse about an hour south, heading towards Sloane Canyon. I was able to hack the building's security, and there's only one camera at the entrance. I pulled up the blueprints and sent them to you."

"Call everyone and have them meet us there. Julian and I are heading there now. Let Marcelo know," I say, determined to move fast so I can cut the hour time frame down by half.

Rocco stands by the door, his right eye is already swelling from the punches he endured. He doesn't move, as if silently asking permission on whether to join us.

"Let's go. We've got motherfuckers to kill. Kill that asshole" I say, gripping Rocco's shoulder as I point over to Matteo. Julian and I move quickly out of the building and towards the car, still drenched in blood. These fuckers better be prepared to see the monsters we are when we arrive.

Hold on, Princess. I'm coming for you.