Chapter 37 Cesare #2
Blake and Enzo worked seamlessly together tying Pietro up. For them to not have known each other for so long, it was like Blake had been in their lives the entire time. A part of me always resented that I'd left him behind, but I thought it was for the best. His mother had needed him.
I could do nothing about the past, but I could see about the future. Blake stepped back, but Enzo stayed close; he waved something under Pietro's nose, and after a few seconds, his entire body jolted.
Pietro's eyes widened and were unfocused as he jerked against his binds.
I waited patiently for him to settle down. The air around us calmed in its silence except for his heavy breathing.
I cracked my neck. "You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Pietro."
"Che cazzo? Cesare ma tu eri…"
"I was what?" I took a step forward, flicking my half-smoked cigarette his way.
"Pretty sure he means dead, Dad," Giancarlo helped, pretending to choke himself.
He has issues.
"You set me up," Pietro spat at Benito. His gaze bounced over to me. "What is this, Cesare? Are you siding with them after everything they've done?"
“They’re my sons,” I said. “They might be a pain in the ass, but they’re my pains in the ass.”
He shook his head. "You're too soft on them. Like always. It’s why they shoved you to the side."
"Wow, people really thought that?" Gin asked.
Paolo elbowed him in the side, and he thankfully shut up.
"I'm going to ask this once, Pietro." I moved closer to him, glaring down at a cousin who I’d grown up in diapers with. "You trying to take over?"
His eyes widened, and if I didn’t know what I did about him, his feigned hurt might have tricked me. Might have.
"What? You know me, Cesare. Non lo farei mai. Siamo una famiglia."
I nodded, taking a step back before I cocked my fist back and slammed it into his face. His head whipped to the side with the force. Blood gushed from his split lip, painting his teeth red.
"The thing is, I don't believe you, cousin. There are too many things wrong with this war against me and my boys. Shit doesn't add up."
Pietro spat more blood on the ground, working his jaw as he turned back to face me. "I'm telling the truth."
The smell of whiskey wafted off him in thick waves. He was always sloppy. His pupils were still blown. He was probably high off blow and alcohol. The combination always made his lips loose. It was why I’d always told him to do the shit at home. He couldn’t be trusted when he was high.
Enzo stepped forward. "Tex doesn't lie to me ever."
"Who the fuck is Tex?" Pietro shook his head. "Cosa? Vuoi credere alla parola di un signor nessuno anziché alla tua famiglia?”
Enzo’s movements were precise. He rammed a knife through Pietro's cheek.
His scream was like a fresh cup of coffee in the morning.
Every single one of us relaxed. Enzo dragged the blade, slicing through flesh like it was paper.
Blood oozed out and ran down his chin, soaking into the fibers of his clothes.
My second youngest did it to the other side, making sure to avoid his tongue.
Pietro's curses quieted down as he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. The amount of pain he was in wasn't small. The flaps of skin puffed up with every exhale.
I stepped up and examined his work. "Clean lines. Symmetrical."
Enzo's smile was small, but genuine as he took my words in. He wiped his knife on Pietro's shirt until it was clean.
"Let's try another question. Did you have a hit put on my grandchildren?"
Pietro groaned, his eyes trying to focus on me. "They aren't blood. What does it matter? You weren’t getting shit done. Benito needed to fear us—I mean you—like he used to."
Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I stepped back as Paolo took my place. He twisted the bloody bat around a few times, his rage visible in the way his shoulders tensed.
"We need answers," Benito reminded him.
Paolo gave a curt nod as he tossed his bat up and caught it before pulling back and swinging with the full force of his entire body.
The resounding crack that echoed around us was drowned out by Pietro's bellow.
Gianpaolo didn't stop. He swung again and again until blood started to drip down Pietro's leg.
There was a darkened wet spot on his right leg.
Paolo's bat came down again, and with the crunch of bone, there was a wet squelch accompanying it.
"Salt. This fucker doesn’t get to sleep through this," Paolo said, holding out his hand. His palm was bloody with how hard he was holding the bat.
Enzo passed it over, and Paolo forced Pietro back awake before swinging again. The bat splintered and fell apart.
Pietro's knee cap and shin bone were shattered. The bone had cut through flesh and tore through his pant leg.
"Now I feel bad you broke your bat," I said. I clapped Paolo on the shoulder. The tension eased slightly. "You've gotten better with it."
The twin grunted at me, but he didn’t shrug off my touch. "What can I say? Someone always bitched about control and intent."
"Bitching, or were they valuable lessons?"
Paolo waved me off but pointed his broken bat at Pietro's face. "Those are my girls, blood or not. I should kill you, but we’re not done."
"Well, you heard him." I snapped my fingers in front of Pietro's face. "How long have you been planning this? To get rid of me and my sons?"
He shook his head, still denying the unrefutable truth. As if I hadn’t heard him when he thought I was dead.
"You think he’s got a pain fetish?" Gin asked. He twisted around a hammer in his hand.
"You're using her?" I pointed to the tool in his hand.
Gin's eyes lit up like they did when I gave him his first gun at fourteen. "See, Benito, he doesn’t misgender Silvy."
"Giancarlo, it's a goddamn hammer, and I don’t misgender a tool," Benito argued back.
"It's clearly a her," I pointed out.
Gin squinted at me. "I want to kill you a little less now."
I snorted and stepped back so he could do what he wanted.
Gin walked around and broke the zip tie holding Pietro's wrists.
He didn't get a chance to swing. My son was quick; he slammed his hammer down and nailed one hand to the tree.
"Hey, Uncle Pietro, ever thought you'd be tied to a tree with your fingers being broken one by one?
" Before he could answer, Gin twisted Silvy in his hand and slammed down.
"Now, you're not being fair, you were all still for the other two.
" Gin forced Pietro's fingers to unfurl.
He took his pinky, sliding it between the claw of the hammer and jerked back.
The resounding crack made my knuckles ache.
Gin did it again, making sure to twist to the side.
Pietro's curses rang out around us, but it was nothing. Benito passed me another cigarette, and I took it, basking in the blood and violence.
Gin produced more nails and hammered them into the nail bed of Pietro's fingers, forcing more screams.
"Va bene, fallo smettere!” Pietro yelled. His words were garbled and choked off.
Benito stepped forward. "You ready to talk? Pretty sure we can all keep going."
Pietro's breathing was erratic. His face was a mess, and his body was no better. The amount of blood he was losing would be an issue if we'd planned to keep him alive.
"Yes." His words slurred and were drawn out.
"What were you planning?" I asked.
"To let you two take each other out." He spat and it was more blood than salvia. "Cesare wouldn’t do what needed to be done, and Benito should have never been next in line. He's razza mista." He spat the last part.
I always knew they had an issue with him, but I assumed they'd gotten over it. "Who sided with you? Was it Rocky? Santiago?"
Pietro groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck no. That bastard Rocky was next to die. The moment I confirmed your death, he'd be joining you. And Santiago is a pussy,” he spat. “Didn’t want to betray you.”
Relief flooded me. "How did you do it?"
"Easy. People were tired of your promises. You didn't move fast enough to knock Benito down." He laughed as if it was funny. "Hard part was getting some people to turn on Benito. But it became easy when they figured out you two would kill each other."
I nodded. Looked like we both had to clean house. I stepped back.
My oldest moved to take my place. "You know why you could never be on top, Uncle Pietro?
" Benito asked. He took his gun out and fired it twice into the earth before pressing the hot muzzle into Pietro's flesh at his temple. The shout Pietro let out nearly drowned out Benito’s words.
"You're sloppy. We never saw you as a threat because you were never good enough to be one. "
Benito placed his gun next to him and rolled his sleeves up like I'd taught him. His fists drew back, and he pounded into Pietro. Every blow was heavy and the thuds of impact resonated throughout the woods.
Hit after hit, Benito's shoulders slowly lowered.
His breathing was heavy but there was a calmness about him as he knocked a few more teeth out of Pierto's mouth that hit the ground with barely any noise.
The wet squelch of his fist getting sucked in his torn flesh and blood was louder than Pietro's remaining cries.
My oldest finally stepped back, his blood-covered hands smoothing back his hair.
"He's still alive, old man, you want a few more licks in?" Gin asked.
A smile lit up my face as we watched Pietro's chest rise slowly. Oh good, the fun wasn't over.
I was enjoying this more than I ever thought I would. I'd missed out on years of having these moments with my sons all because I was trying to make sure they stayed under foot. This was somehow better.
I blew out a breath. "Nah. Did everyone get a chance?"
We all looked at Blake.
"What?" The little shit looked over at Pietro then back to us. "I suck at knife work and torture is hard. Just let me know when I can set some shit on fire."