24. Massimo
24
MASSIMO
Holding her and listening to her cry was like being fucking skinned alive.
I didn’t fucking know what to do but hold her close to me.
It didn’t look like we had gotten here too late, but fuck, anything could have happened from the moment the fucker showed up to when we got here.
It was pure fucking luck I got her text just as we landed in Las Vegas. But fuck, had I not come at this time, Matteo could have been home with her instead of coming to pick us up.
I looked up to see the guilt and the darkness in my younger brother’s eyes before moving them over to Elio.
He was watching over Marco. Not that it was necessary, considering the bastard was out cold.
I signaled with my head for my brothers to take care of this before lifting Luna up in my arms and standing. She tightened her hold around me from the sudden movement but otherwise didn’t raise her face from where she had it buried in my chest. I could feel her tears soaking my shirt.
I carried her up the stairs without looking back and went to our room.
She didn’t react as I lay down on the bed with her in my arms. I ran my fingers through the long locks of her hair, as much to comfort her as to comfort myself.
Fuck.
I should have put more guards around the place. Marco shouldn’t have been able to get onto the property, but he did.
Which meant someone had betrayed me and let the fucker in to hurt my wife. And I was going to find out who.
I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but I felt it the moment her hold on me went slack… when she finally gave in to the exhaustion and fell asleep. Carefully, I moved her off me, tucking her into bed. I stood on the edge and watched her. How many times had I stayed like this, watching her sleep and feeling heavy from the sight alone?
How could she affect me like this?
And now…
The image of that fucker on top of her while her terrified screams filled the house would forever haunt me.
Perhaps Elio was right.
I had changed. But he was also wrong.
Luna wasn’t my weakness. She was my strength. She gave me the motivation, the energy to take on the biggest monsters out there. She made me want to be the biggest, most terrifying monster in the world just so I could protect her from it all.
And I was going to unleash my monster on Marco.
I reached out and ran my fingers over the side of her face. She frowned slightly but didn’t wake.
Sleep, principessa . I’m going to make it right.
Elio and Matteo stood beside me as we watched all my high-ranking men file into the dimly lit warehouse, not saying anything.
I didn’t usually call for all my men to come to Las Vegas. I didn’t want them to leave their posts for too long, but this was important.
I was going to get my message across.
I was going to show them how I earned the nickname Lo Spietato . Why I had been able to take reign from my psycho of a father and make it into something the old bastard could not even think to dream of.
Enzo came in with the last group of men, pushing his way through the crowd and stepping up on the podium where we stood, as if he had such a high position among all my men.
Matteo made a move to get him off when I placed my hand on his chest, stopping him. I shook my head. I wanted the bastard up here. After all, it would be remiss of me not to give him a front-row seat to the show.
Enzo watched the interaction between us, his chest puffing out as if he thought I finally respected him and his position in the family. I would laugh if I wasn’t feeling so fucking murderous. Luckily, I would be able to take this rage out soon enough.
Enzo’s eyes moved back to the doorway. He started shifting on his feet when it looked like just about everyone who was supposed to be here was here, and yet there was no sign of his son.
He didn’t need to worry. Marco would make his entrance. And what a grand entrance it would be.
Elio nodded, and I signaled for the doors to close when it was time. The slam of the metal door and the click as the lock latched into place sounded loudly, even among my men’s hushed chatter and nervous energy, as they questioned why they were brought here.
I kept my eyes on Enzo, cueing him on the first sign that something was wrong. A nervous tic danced around his temple, and I let my smile widen just a bit. His eyes became desperate as he looked harder for a son he wouldn’t find any time soon.
When he realized Marco would not suddenly manifest in front of him, he turned his full attention to me. “Massimo?—”
I signaled to Matteo, who whistled. The shrill sound echoed in the open space of the warehouse, drawing everyone’s attention.
I stepped forward, my brothers following me.
“I know you are all wondering why you’re here,” I said, my voice carrying well to my men. “I have discovered something… ah, unfortunate about someone I thought was close to me.”
As expected, murmurs rose about as everyone looked around, knowing whatever I had discovered could only mean the death of that person.
I nodded to one of my men standing on a metal railing high above the warehouse. The lights came on, projecting images onto the white canvas behind me that I wanted everyone to see.
The many screenshots of messages between Marco and the dead Russian we were able to capture in New York to get his phone.
That was why the bastard had rushed home to go to my house and look for the blade I had used to kill my father.
Did he think that evidence would have saved him?
The traditionalists had some influence over my empire for no other reason than their years of loyalty, but that influence was slowly dwindling over time as I appointed more men—their sons —in positions of power over them. And those men answered to me and no one else.
Even if he had been able to find the blade, it wouldn’t have been enough to save him or take over the De Luca organization.
But desperate men usually do stupid things.
I would have killed him for this betrayal, but the fucker touched my wife. Hurt her. For that, I was putting on this show.
A gasp rang out, and I turned to Uncle to see his face turning red. The anger he was trying hard not to show was slinking out from the wrinkles on his face. He had never looked more his full fifty-four years than he did then. He had done the one thing no one ever thought would happen. He outlived my father, who passed before he even reached his forty-sixth birthday. I had been twenty-five when I killed my father. Eight years had passed since I took the helm of my father’s empire.
I vowed then I would kill my uncle before my thirty-fourth birthday.
His days were numbered.
“Romeo,” I called out. It didn’t take long for my younger brother to drag out a struggling Marco up on the podium with us.
He kicked Marco in the stomach when the fucker tried to make a beeline to his father.
“Any last words?” I asked. Romeo took the cloth out of Marco’s mouth.
“Dad, help?—”
“I think Enzo would agree with what I’m about to do, don’t you think?” I asked, focusing my gaze on the man himself.
Enzo didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to think of a way to get Marco out of this without coming off like he was siding with a traitor. Which was what Marco was. I wouldn’t have known had we not made that impromptu trip to New York and found the bastard colluding with the Russians.
Enzo came up to me and said quietly, “He’s your cousin.”
“The De Luca Famiglia before all else. Isn’t that what you always say, Uncle? I’m simply following your lesson. But you’re right, we’re family. For that, I’m giving you a chance to say goodbye.”
The blood drained from his face. “Massimo, please. He’s my only son.”
“He ceased to be anything to anyone the minute he decided to lie in bed with the enemy. Say your goodbye, Uncle.”
He sputtered, but when nothing came out, I turned away and faced my men. Enzo moved over to Marco, who was crying at this point. He whispered something to his son, who shook his head and cried harder. My blood boiled. His tears did nothing but remind me of my wife’s tears as they soaked my shirt. I was going to make this hurt.
“Time’s up.”
Matteo and Elio pulled Enzo away, who tried to put up a fight. I was almost tempted to offer Enzo the chance to offer his life up for his son, but no. I needed the fucker’s blood soaking the skin of my palms before the murderous rage I was feeling would quiet. And nothing else would do.
“Untie him,” I said to Romeo, who did as I asked. Marco looked around as soon as his hands and legs were free, as if he thought he would be able to escape. There was no escape. His face was bruised and bloodied from when I lost control back at my house. He flexed his hands and looked down at his legs. I had him tied and stored in a small container the entire night it took to arrange for my men to come for the show.
“I’m not heartless,” I said. “We’re cousins , after all. I’ll give you a chance to live. You’ll fight me. And if you beat me, I’ll let you walk out of here.”
A sound came out of his throat. We both knew he wasn’t walking out of here.
I signaled for Marco to come at me. He hesitated.
“This is for Luna,” I said softly so only he heard me. I wanted him to know exactly why I was doing this. Not because of his betrayal to me with the Russians. I had already suspected that. This was for my wife.
Anger marred his face. How brave of the fucker. Didn’t he know he was a dead man walking at this point, and I was doing nothing more than drawing it out for pure fucking entertainment?
I smiled, showing him my teeth.
With a shout, he raised his fists and came at me.
But he was sloppy and uncontrolled. Even if he wasn’t injured or hadn’t spent his night cramped in a small space, he would still have been no match for me.
I twisted out of his way and pushed my foot out, tripping him.
He went down, face-planting on the hard cement platform we were standing on. Elio held Enzo back when it looked like he wanted to interfere, just as Marco picked himself up, blood dripping down his nose. The sight was what riled my men up. They screamed and shouted at the traitor, all asking for a bloodbath.
And a bloodbath was what I would give. I shot Enzo a small smile, getting satisfaction from the pure hatred in his eyes just as Marco tried to come at me again. I easily moved out of the way. Shame the fucker didn’t fall this time.
He looked at me, then off to one side and the other. I knew what he was planning before he did it.
He shot to the left and jumped off the platform, making his way to the door.
“He’s mine,” I shouted to any man who dared touch him. This was my fucking prize, and I would be damned if anyone else got their fun with him.
I took off after his retreating back.
The fucker barely made it to the door when I was on him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and tugging him back. I twisted him around until he faced me, pulling my arm back and punching him in the face. He went down, and my men cheered.
I ignored the sound, ignored everything but the fact that the fucker was still breathing, and that was unforgivable.
I hoisted him up on my shoulder while he was still disoriented and didn’t put up a fight. By the time he realized what was happening and that he should fight back, it was too late. I got him back on the podium, right where my brothers and his father watched, getting an up-close view of the show. Enzo struggled harder against Elio’s grip, but it was no use.
Before, he was trying to help his son.
Now he was trying to get away, not wanting to witness the fucker’s fate.
Too bad.
I pulled Marco up until he was still, his face no more than a few inches from mine.
“You think you can touch my wife, and I’ll let you live?” I asked. “When I found out you betrayed me, betrayed this organization with the Russians, I had planned to put a bullet through your head myself. It would have been quick and easy. Simple. Painless. But now?”
I laughed, and he spat in my face. “I should have fucked the bitch when I had the chance.”
I saw red.
I pulled him down to my knees, striking him in the stomach, and watched as he went down. It wasn’t enough.
I waited for him to get up and kicked him in the side, hearing his bones cracking from the impact. He let out a loud cry, bowing his body awkwardly to lessen the pain.
I pulled on the front of his dirty shirt until he stood once more before I pulled my hand back and hit him on the neck. He choked, tears streaming down his face. It looked like he wanted to say something, but the injury prevented him from doing so. I didn’t fucking care to hear what he had to say, even if it was to beg for his life or a quick death.
I punched him on the side of his head. Blood spattered out and dotted the cement floor. I hit again and a third, causing him to stumble back and drop to the ground.
I climbed on top of his body, much as he had done with my wife, pounding my fists on his already broken face, getting only little satisfaction from seeing all the blood. His hands came out, struggling to get me away from him, and when he realized that was useless, he opted to cover his face, hoping to lessen the impact.
I grabbed one hand. “Was this the one that touched my wife?”
I didn’t give him the chance to answer. With a small twist of my hand, I felt the bone connecting in his wrist give way. The pained howl he let out was loud enough that even the roaring of bloodlust in my ears couldn’t drown it out.
I threw the hand back at him and grabbed the other one. He shook his head. “Please, Massimo.”
I ignored him. “Or was it this one?”
I broke that one as well, not getting any satisfaction from it.
It wasn’t enough.
He could suffer a thousand deaths in the worst way imaginable, and it still wouldn’t fucking be enough.
I leaned down close until he could hear me over the noise of all my men cheering on the bloodbath.
“How fortunate for you this is going to end soon,” I said, watching his eyes glaze over. I reached inside my shirt for the blade, letting the metal catch the light.
“Were you looking for this?” I asked.
I watched as recognition entered his dead eyes. He reached for it, and I smiled, simply holding it out of reach. Did he think I was going to give it to him?
I looked off to the left until my eyes met Enzo’s. He shook his head. My smile widened as I brought the blade down on Marco’s heart, feeling the warmth of his blood coating my hand. I pulled back and plunged the knife back in, over and over again, hitting close to the same spots I had done when I killed my father.
I didn’t know when Marco took his last breath. I was too busy watching my uncle, but once I was sure he was dead, I had expected the tension, the anger, to fall away.
It didn’t.
Marco was dead, but he’d still hurt my wife, and there was nothing I could do that would erase that.
I stood up to the silent crowd, covered in Marco’s blood, as shock filled their faces.
Then I raised my hand, holding the blade up, and cheers erupted.
I signaled for Romeo to come over. “Burn the body,” I said.
He nodded and dragged the body away as Enzo had finally pulled away from Elio’s grasp and was currently crouched in the corner, retching.
I kept my eyes on him, not feeling much of anything as one thought ran through my mind over and over again.
The fucker was next.