CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Adrian
The concrete floor was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of fear and copper. Vincenzo, one of my soldiers, hung from a pipe, his wrists bound above his head, his body sagging with exhaustion. His face was a mess of bruises and blood, one eye swollen shut.
“Please,” he croaked, blood bubbling from his split lip. “I didn’t do it.”
I silenced him with a backhand that snapped his head to the side. “Lying to me again, Vincenzo? That’s not very smart.”
I picked up the pliers from the metal table, the steel cold against my bloodied fingers. “You gave our information to Madden. Our shipment routes, our safe houses, our personnel.” I clicked the pliers open and closed. “You put my men at risk.”
La Cosa Nostra was not on friendly terms with Liam Madden, the legacy to the Irish mob. He was cold, calculating and eerily calm in his pursuits.
And his eyes have been on our shipments for a long time now.
Last week, he intercepted one of our shipments and killed two of my men.
Yesterday, I found out who the rat was.
“I swear—”
I gripped his right hand, splaying his fingers. “This is what happens when you betray us.” I positioned the pliers around his thumbnail. “This is what happens to people who lie.”
His scream echoed off the concrete walls as I pulled, slowly, deliberately. The nail came free with a wet pop, blood immediately welling from the exposed flesh.
“Disloyal people,” I continued, moving to his index finger. “People who forget where their allegiance lies.”
Another scream. Another nail.
“Important information. Crucial information.” I worked methodically, taking my time with each finger. “Information that cost two of my men their lives. Information that could put the Salvatore Family at risk.”
By the fifth finger, Vincenzo had passed out. I threw the pliers aside with a clatter.
“Wake him up,” I instructed Marco who was standing in the corner, watching and waiting for my orders.
A bucket of ice water brought Vincenzo back to consciousness, his screams now reduced to whimpers.
“Who else was involved?” I demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. “Who else did you report to?”
“Morelli’s capo,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head but he whispered one name before he passed out again. “Giovanni.”
Now that wasn’t what I expected to hear.
Was the Morellis keeping tabs on me?
And I was pretty sure that went against our alliance.
Tsk, tsk.
What a mess and now I had to clean it up.
I released him, wiping my bloody hands on my already ruined shirt. “Make sure he doesn’t die. I want him to be conscious when we have our meeting tomorrow.”
I left Vincenzo hanging there, unconscious again, blood cascading from his mangled body onto the concrete floor.
I had somewhere else more important to be.
My wife was waiting for me for dinner.
My father has summoned us for a dinner at the Salvatore estate in honor of our union, insisting that it was crucial for Serafina to feel at home among our family. After all, she would bear the responsibility of carrying and raising the next Salvatore heir.
My children.
And it took a village to raise the next generation.
How cute.
***
I strode into the dining room, my boots leaving crimson prints on the marble floor. The blood had dried on my hands, crusting between my fingers, splattered across my shirt in dark constellations.
I was running late and I hadn’t bothered to change.
There was something satisfying about wearing the evidence of my work, especially when I knew how it would affect certain people in this room.
The metallic scent clung to my skin, a familiar perfume I’d grown accustomed to over the years. I watched as conversation died, utensils clinking against plates as heads turned in my direction.
Serafina’s gasp cut through the silence like a knife.
Her face paled, and I couldn’t help but smile. Her hazel eyes widened, her fork frozen halfway to her pretty parted lips. The horror etched across her delicate features was almost comical.
“Don’t worry, wife,” I said, my voice rough to my own ears. “That’s not my blood.”
The room remained silent. I watched as varying reactions crossed my family’s face. It wasn’t the first time they had seen me covered in blood and they were very familiar with what I did or my ways of doing things.
After all, I was doing their dirty job, carrying out their sins so their hands remained untainted while mine bore the weight of every death.
And my father hated me bringing it into his perfect, sterile dining room where we played the perfect family.
His expression shifted to disgust and I knew he wanted to yell, to scold me as if I was a young, reckless boy that he had grown tired of disciplining while Matteo shook with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Guilia avoided my eyes, choosing to focus on her plate instead. Beatrice looked a little concerned and Gabriel, of course, was nowhere to be seen.
But none of them mattered.
I was more curious of Serafina’s reaction.
The initial horror slowly faded and her lips curled with disgust as she stared at me. I almost laughed. If only she knew just how dark and evil I truly was, how much blood I’d spilled over the years. Her hatred was so pure, so innocent compared to the things I’d done.
“Adrian,” Matteo’s voice cut through my thoughts, dripping with contempt. “How can you walk into a family dinner celebrating your wedding in such a manner? Have you no respect for your wife? No sense of decorum?”
How typical of him. What a mockery.
Matteo was always trying to paint me as the villain.
I heard that word so many times that I was starting to get used to the title.
I turned to face my brother, watching his jaw tighten with anger. Always so proper, so concerned with appearances. The heir who always got what he wanted.
His lies made me sick.
His truth stirred a madness inside me that I kept controlled.
“I do your dirty work, brother, and now you care how I look?” I spread my hands, displaying the blood that had dried in the creases of my skin. “This is what keeps our family in power. This is what pays for the silverware you’re eating with.”
“I’m well aware of your duties,” Matteo hissed, his shoulders shaking with his anger. “You’ve embarrassed this family enough after what happened the day of the wedding. Do you know that you’ve turned us into a laughing stock? You made me look weak.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my problem if you can’t contain the gossip. That was your duty. To keep our family’s image clean. To solve the problem. And if that made you look weak, then brother, you have bigger problems.”
My father cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should clean up before joining us.”
Serafina spoke then, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps he should have stayed away entirely.” I wasn’t sure she had intended for everyone to hear but it was loud enough to make my father raise an eyebrow and Matteo’s eyes to gleam with dangerous victory.
“Is that so?” I said, fists clenched to my side. “Does my presence make you uncomfortable? Would you rather enjoy dinner with your ex-fiancé instead, playing house?”
“Adrian–” My father started to warn.
“Actually, she was enjoying dinner,” Matteo said. “Laughing and smiling until you came. You’ve interrupted everyone’s pleasant evening with your…unpleasantness.”
My wife, laughing and smiling with Matteo while she only gave me silence at home.
Fuck him.
“Adrian, please… go and wash up so we can resume with dinner,” Beatrice said, her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to calm the room.
Serafina’s lips twisted, her eyes roving over my bloodied attire. “Except, some sins can’t be washed away.”
I moved before I could think, striding to her side of the table. I leaned down, my blood-splattered face inches from hers. Her eyes widened and I saw the small flinch, the way her body quivered, a small twitch before she composed herself, lifting her chin.
My sweet, defiant wife.
She chose the wrong place to stand up for herself.
I held her gaze as I grabbed her half-eaten steak from her plate, and took a large bite, chewing slowly as I stared into her horrified eyes. The meat was warm, the juices mixing with the taste of blood that still lingered in my mouth.
Serafina thought me a monster…then I was going to show her just how savage I could really be.
“Delicious,” I said, dropping the steak back onto her plate with a wet thud. Then I grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet with enough force to make her gasp.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling against my grip.
I dragged her toward the door, nodding to my father who watched with that calculating expression I’d come to despise. “There we go,” I announced to the stunned room. “I came, I ate, and now I’m taking my wife home. I don’t have time for fake pleasantries.”
Serafina stumbled beside me, her heels catching on the carpet. “Let me go,” she hissed, but I only tightened my grip.
Nobody dared to interfere. Not even Matteo with his inflated ego and his shallow arrogance. Even he knew better than to push me that far or what I was capable of once he did.
The night air hit us as we exited the mansion, cool against my heated skin. I pushed her into the waiting car, sliding in beside her into the driver’s seat.
“You humiliated me,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the force of her withheld emotions. “Again.”
I turned to face her, watching the moonlight play across her flushed cheeks.
“No, wife. You humiliated yourself the moment you thought you could speak to me that way in front of my family.” I leaned closer, my breath fanning across her face.
“But don’t worry. I have all night to teach you exactly what happens when you forget your place. ”
The car pulled away from the curb, carrying us back to our secluded home. To my fortress. To her prison.
Serafina sat as far from me as possible, pressed against the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Such beauty.
Such fury.
I watched her from the corner of my eye as the car wound through the dark roads toward our home. I caught the defiant set of her jaw, the angry gleam in those hazel eyes that infuriated me but turned me on at the same time.
“You’re a monster,” she finally said, breaking the tense silence that had stretched between us. Her voice was low, but it cut through me like a blade. “A heartless, soulless monster.”
I was unable to keep the smirk from my lips. “Yes, we’ve established that. How about you come up with another insult? What else do you think of me?”
“I think nothing of you. You’re beneath contempt.”
“That’s too bad,” I said, leaning closer. The scent of her perfume, something floral and expensive, filled my nostrils. “We’re a pair, wife. Whether you like it or not. So, it doesn’t matter what you think of me, I’m your husband, and soon enough, I’ll be the father of your children.”
The words hung in the air between us, a claim I hadn’t realized I wanted to make until they left my lips.
Though we never spoke of it, we both knew what was expected of us… to consummate our marriage in a way that was fruitful. I had to plant the seed, she had to nurture it.
And only then would the alliance be completed.
A child that had both the Morelli and Salvatore blood running through their veins.
Serafina’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For a moment, I thought I’d finally broken through her defenses. The car was filled with only the hum of the engine and the sound of her breathing.
And then she laughed.
It started as a small sound, a choked exhale, before erupting into something wild and unrestrained.
It wasn’t the gentle laugh of a woman amused.
It was harsh, mocking, devoid of any humor.
She threw her head back, the sound filling the confined space of the car, echoing off the windows until it seemed to consume everything.
I stared at her, confused by her reaction.
That reaction wasn’t what I’d expected. This wasn’t fear or anger or even reluctant acceptance. This was something else entirely.
“A father? You?” she finally managed, wiping tears of humorless mirth from her eyes. The cruelty in her voice was sharper than any blade I’d ever used to bring death. “You think I’d bear your child? You think I will bring your child into this world?”
Her laughter died, replaced by a cold and vicious expression of pure hatredness.
“You’re not worthy, Adrian Salvatore.” Her voice dripped with such contempt that my jaw tightened.
“Not worthy to be a father or to be called one. I can’t even imagine a child of yours in this world, living and breathing.
You will never be a father and I will make sure of that. ”
Not worthy…
I wasn’t worthy.
I hadn’t been worthy.
I felt something inside me snap. Something real, something tangible.
A loud crack that echoed through my darkened soul.
The darkness that I kept carefully contained, the beast that I fed with blood and violence, surged forward with such force that the world around me seemed to blur.
This wasn’t rage. No, it was all-consuming, destructive, something that had been festering for years, beneath the surface of my carefully constructed facade.
Memories crashed through me like a tidal wave. Memories I had fought so hard to bury. And with those memories came the reminder of promises I had made.
The same promises I couldn’t keep.
My hands shook with the force of emotions I couldn’t control.
I wanted to wring her pretty fucking neck.
Serafina’s smile faltered as she took in my expression, but she didn’t back down. “Does the truth hurt, husband?”
No, the truth didn’t hurt.
Not in the way she thought she did.
The truth had done something far worse than hurt. It had reached into my chest, dug under my flesh with venomous claws, and torn out something I hadn’t known was still there.
The truth had annihilated my sanity.
And my wife…
She was about to pay the price.