Chapter 23
Gio
The night of the hit comes sooner than I thought it would.
Each day, I go to Grace and I train her.
It goes slowly at first, but soon she warms up to the task.
In fact, I can tell that she’s enjoying it.
She went from being afraid of leaving her cage to being out of it all the time.
Sometimes she wears the clothes I give her, but more often than not she stays naked.
I catch her drawing, reading, bathing, and she doesn’t run like she used to.
She’s finally submitted to me. My princess finally sees that it’s better to give in than it is to fight.
Because I take care of her. I cater to her every need. It’s true that she’s still stuck in the room even though she doesn’t want to be in there, but it’s not much of a prison. She has everything she could possibly need.
And then some. At night when she’s lonely, I can hear her softly begging my name.
I love the sounds of her wanting me. I’ll come to her then, in the middle of the dark long night, and I’ll give her everything she needs.
She arches her back under my touch as my lips graze her neck.
I whisper in her ear, make her beg for my thick cock.
She wants her freedom. I understand that. She spent her whole life locked away and abused by her bastard father. My princess is tired of being locked away in a cage.
I told her it won’t be forever, and I meant it.
With each passing day, I try and figure out the best way to give her freedom.
I need to find a way to keep her, to take her away from the Romano bastards.
I need to convince my father to intercede on my behalf with the Romanos.
I want her, and I’ll have her. I don’t want war over it.
But if it comes to that… That’s what it will have to be. A war. I’m not letting her go.
That’s on my mind as I meet my father in a deserted parking lot on the edge of town.
We’re both wearing our usual hit clothing, black trousers with plenty of pockets filled with ammo and black turtlenecks.
I have my rifle slung over my shoulder and he’s strapped with two pistols and a shotgun.
He grins at me as I climb out of my car.
“You ready for this, son?”
“Of course,” I say. He laughs, clearly excited the way he always is on the eve of a hit.
I have to admit that I’m excited, too. I can feel my darkness roiling inside of my mind, begging to be released.
It needs to be fed the blood and begging of my enemies.
I know I’ll be feeding it soon. The excitement I feel is almost too much.
And it’s her father. He’s caused her so much pain.
Of all the men to wind up on my hit list, this one is personal.
“Let’s go over the plan one more time,” my father says, leading me over to his truck. He spreads a map of the city out on the hood and I stand over his shoulder, watching.
“The Don has a poker game every Wednesday night,” he says. “It’s here, on the South Side in some shit rundown deli. He thinks nobody knows about it, but I’ve been staking him out.” I follow my father’s finger as he points to the various locations.
“Okay, so he plays poker. He’s guarded though.” I know he is. Every video feed shows at least three men with him. Men who could turn on me the second the first bullet flies out. I don’t care for shootouts. I prefer a clean hit.
“Right,” he confirms. “That’s where I come in. I’m going to set their cars on fire, here,” he says, pointing. “Once ablaze, they’ll come out. That’s when you shoot him from here.” He points to another spot.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a building across the street. Abandoned, the perfect spot.”
I nod, my face tight. It seems like a decent plan, though I don’t like the uncertainty around the distraction. Still, this sort of thing has worked in the past, and I know I won’t miss the shot.
“Before we do this, I want something,” I say.
He leans back against his truck, raising an eyebrow. “What do you want?”
“The girl,” I say.
He pauses, surprised. “You want that mafia bitch?”
“Yes.” I don’t like that he called her a bitch, but I let that slide. For now, at least. Until I have her, and she’s safe.
“What the fuck for?”
“She’s mine. I’ve grown… attached.”
“Shit,” he says, laughing. “You got pussy whipped.”
I have to keep myself under control. I need his help in convincing the Romanos to let me keep her.
“She’s not a good sex slave,” I say. “The Romanos won’t like her.”
“You did it wrong, then.”
“I didn’t,” I say fiercely. “She’s just stronger than you realize.”
He watches me for a moment, then sighs. “You really want her? You can have her.”
I blink, surprised. I didn’t think he’d give in so easily.
“Okay,” I say. “You’ll help me convince the Romanos?” It was his idea to begin with, and I have faith in my father. He can convince them. I know he can.
“They don’t really give a fuck about her,” he says. “If we pull this hit off, you can have as many Romano sluts as you want.”
I clench my fist but instead of slamming it into his jaw, I just nod. “Good,” I say. “Let’s go then.”
“Fuck yeah,” he whoops. I can tell his blood is up and he’s already forgotten about our conversation.
As we get into his truck and head over to our positions, that conversation is all I can think about. To my father, Grace is just some mob bitch to be used and abused until you’re finished with her. She’s just a wet hole to fuck and fill. But to me, she’s become much, much more than that.
I’m protective of her. I’m possessive of her. I find myself wanting to be more tender, gentler, more loving than I’ve ever been in my entire life. When I’m in that room with Grace and she’s giving herself to me, the darkness is completely silent.
Nothing silences the darkness. Or at least nothing had before, except maybe at the moment of the kill.
When I’m with Grace, though, the darkness is totally quiet.
There is only me and her and what we’re doing, our bodies intertwined or just lying side by side afterward.
She makes me feel something I’d never felt before.
She makes me feel at peace.
I glance at my father as we drive to the South Side of Chicago. He’s probably never felt a moment of peace in his life. He has the darkness inside of him, too, just like I do. He probably thinks that the darkness will go away if the Romanos let him into the familia, but I know better.
Nothing so shallow could ever silence it. I don’t know what could help him. I doubt anything at this point. He’s a lost cause, but I’m not. Grace showed me that. My princess.
We finally reach the spot where the hit will go down. We park down the block, and my father points out the building.
“There, on the left, is the deli,” he says, pointing. “And that on the right is your building.” He points at a taller brownstone building that looks like it was once a shopfront with apartments on top.
“Roof access?” I ask him.
“There’s a fire escape on the back. You can get up that way.”
I nod. Fire escapes are convenient and cleaner. “Timing?” I ask.
“I’ll give you,” he checks his watch, “ten minutes to get into position. Then the fire starts.” He grins at me.
“Fine. Plenty of time.” My blood pumps with adrenaline. My body tenses, knowing the time has come.
“Remember, one shot. Then we’re out of here. I’ll be nearby waiting in case something goes wrong.”
“I understand.” I open the door and climb out.
“Son,” he says. I look back at him. “Don’t miss.”
I grin. “You know I don’t.”
He nods as I turn and walk quickly down the street.
The block is quiet. It’s a pretty normal-looking residential street on the South Side. The buildings are large brownstones some with flowerpots on the steps, but they’re all in pretty bad condition. This is the neighborhood the city forgot about, and so crime is rampant.
It doesn't surprise me that the Don comes here to play poker. The Rossis have safe houses all over this neighborhood. It’s their main turf. Besides that, he grew up in this place. He probably still has friends in the old neighborhood, and I’m betting he’s playing with them right now.
I check my watch as I walk toward the building. Eight minutes to go. I find an alley between the buildings and head down toward the back.
I scout around the corner, and it’s completely quiet. It takes me a second before I spot the fire escape. I walk over and climb up onto a dumpster before jumping up and grabbing the lowest rung. It slides down with a metallic grind. I dangle there for a second, watching, but nobody comes outside.
I pull myself up and climb. It takes me a few minutes, but finally I crest the roof and find myself standing above the block. I check my watch one more time. Three minutes to spare.
I get into position at the edge of the roof and crouch down to set up my rifle.
I have a silencer at one end, a high powered scope, and a tripod on the front.
I rest the tripod on the ledge and adjust the scope until it’s perfect.
The distraction should separate them enough.
And with the fire escape, I’ll be gone before they can get to me.
Just one kill. The others can do whatever the fuck they want.
My heart is beating fast. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, holding onto my rifle. I scope out the front of the deli and it’s deserted, though that doesn’t mean anything. There are clearly three mafia trucks parked outside. They’re the only nice cars on the block.
I hold my rifle, waiting. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. I’m a damn good shot, and I never miss. I’ve never killed a Don before, but he’s a man like any other. One bullet to his skull, and he’ll go down.
Seconds tick past, and then minutes. I check my watch with a frown.
He’s late. Eleven minutes pass, and then twelve. There’s no fire down there, hell, there’s no sign of my father.
When fifteen minutes come and go, I’m beginning to worry.
My blood races with anxiety. Something happened down there.
He’s never late like this, not on an important hit.
Maybe he’s a piece of shit in our daily lives but when we’re out on a mission together, he’s as dependable as anything else in this world. He’s a fucking rock.
Not tonight. He’s late for the first time in our career together. I have no clue why, or what’s wrong. We didn’t set up walkies. I didn’t even think about them because we never use them, but of course that was a stupid decision.
I turn and look back at the roof. I’m secluded, and I realize that my only way off is the fire escape. There’s no entrance to the roof from the actual building itself.
A sound catches my ear. I look around, frowning. It’s a low chop, a sputtering noise. It takes me a second to identify it.
It’s a helicopter, flying low, directly toward me.
Suddenly, it clicks. The spot I’m in, the phone call, my father’s lateness. It all makes sense.
I grab my rifle and whirl it toward the helicopter, taking aim. I fire off two shots, but it keeps coming faster than I expected. I have to reload as it screams toward me, descending onto the roof. I curse myself for not bringing something that holds more ammo.
My father. That fucking bastard. Panic and anger rise up in me as I prepare to fire off more shots, desperately trying to defend my impossible position.
Wind whips my body. It’s going to fucking land a few feet away from me, and I’m suddenly cut off from the fire escape. I wasted my chance to try to escape by shooting at them like a fucking fool. There are some bullet holes in the front glass, but the pilot seems unharmed.
Four men with high powered rifles jump out of the helicopter.
They’re screaming at me, but I don’t hear them.
I fire off two more shots, clipping one guy in the shoulder before they’re only feet away from me.
I drop my rifle to the ground and throw a punch at the first man that comes at me.
My fist cracks into his jaw with a meaty thud.
I feel satisfied for half a second until someone hits me in the back of the head and I fall forward.
My fucking father. That bastard, that son of a bitch. He set me up. I don’t know why he would do this to his own son. His own flesh and blood.
Feet smash into my body, and then I’m being dragged. Someone throws me into the helicopter and then the world is dropping away.
Blackness overwhelms me as I’m knocked unconscious from the butt of a gun slamming against my temple.