Antonio
Valentino tips his head back, finishing his drink in a single, smooth motion. His eyes are dark with hunger, one that has nothing to do with the whiskey. He sets the empty glass down with a sharp clink and stands, brushing invisible dust from his expensive suit. “I think it’s time for the main event,” he says, his voice thick with anticipation, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
“Of course,” I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the pounding in my chest. “Right this way, cousin.”
I lead him back through the narrow hall. The shadows seem to close in like the encroaching darkness of a tomb. Valentino is too lost in his own sick fantasies to notice the subtle shift in my demeanor—the way my movements become more deliberate.
The end is near, but he’s too blind to see it.
His gaze sweeps over the room, lingering on the instruments of cruelty as if planning where to start his sadistic games. His twisted delight is palpable.
Closing the door behind us, I move to the far corner of the room. “There’s something inside the cage I think you’ll find particularly useful. A new tool to ensure Lena behaves exactly how you want.” I keep my tone calm, almost indifferent.
Valentino’s eyes light up with grotesque interest, his greed overshadowing any suspicion. His sickness pulls him forward like a moth to a flame. “What is it? Show me,” he demands, his hands twitching with anticipation.
“See for yourself,” I say, gesturing to the small compartment inside the cage. “It’s custom-made. You’ve never seen anything like it.”
Without hesitation, Valentino ducks his head and steps inside, his fingers running over the cold metal bars. His breath quickens as he fumbles with the latch. “Where is it?” he asks, impatience creeping into his voice.
I step closer, hand hovering over the door. “Just a little further inside. You’re almost there.”
He leans in, still oblivious to the danger, when suddenly, he pauses, blinking rapidly as his body gives the first signs of rebellion. A faint sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and he runs his hand over his mouth, as if trying to dismiss the growing discomfort. He feels it, even if he doesn’t yet understand.
With a swift, brutal motion, I slam the door shut. The iron bars clang together, a finality that reverberates through the room. Before he can react, I lock the cage, the bolt sliding into place with a sharp, metallic snap.
Valentino spins around, confusion in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice is strained, the first hints of weakness creeping into his words.
I step back, my face unreadable, watching him with cold detachment. “Did you really think you could go on like this forever?”
He grips the bars, his knuckles white as panic flashes across his face. There it is—fear. “This isn’t funny, . Let me out.”
But I remain still. Valentino’s breath quickens, his chest heaving as the subtle signs of the poison intensify. Beads of sweat begin to drip down his temples, and his posture begins to falter.
“What’s happening?” he gasps, his voice trembling. His hand moves to his chest, rubbing at it as though trying to ease the growing discomfort there. “I... I don’t feel right.”
I watch him closely, knowing the cyanide is beginning to take hold. His skin pales, the sheen of sweat intensifying, and his fingers tremble as he grips the bars for support.
His body knows.
The realization dawns on him slowly as his breath hitches. Horror creeps into his features. “What have you done?”
“It’s poison,” I say, my voice cold and precise. “It’s already making its way through your body.”
“You poisoned me?” he whispers, disbelief and terror warring for control.
“I did,” I reply, each word deliberate, savoring his slow unraveling.
Valentino stumbles, his legs unsteady as his hands slip from the bars. He presses his back against the cage for support, his skin turning a sickly gray. Sweat pours down his face, his breathing turning shallow and rapid.
Panic is setting in.
“, please,” he begs, his voice cracking. “We’re family. I’ll give you anything—everything. Just stop this. Please.”
I step forward, unfazed. “You think this is about money or power?” I scoff. “I couldn’t care less about either. You’ve taken things far more important than that, Vigo.”
He gasps for air, the words tumbling out desperately. “You can have her back. Alessia... she’s yours. I’ll give her to you—just let me live.”
Valentino’s eyes dart wildly, searching my face for any sign of mercy, but there is none. He’s not going to escape this.
I’m unmoved by his pleas. “Did Uncle Gio beg for help when you killed him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wipes the sweat trickling down his brow, his hand trembling. But his control is slipping. “My father had a heart attack. I didn’t lay a finger on him.”
“Semantics,” I reply, my voice icy. “You may not have killed him with your own two hands, but you could’ve tried to help him. Instead, you watched him die.”
“I was in shock. Uncle Marco told you?—”
“Shut the fuck up you piece of shit,” I roar, slamming my fists against the bars. “You have no right to say my father’s name.”
Valentino crumples to the floor, his body folding in on itself. His hands tremble as he reaches out, but I remain out of his grasp. Terror is etched into every line of his face. His skin turns ashen grey, and his body slickens with sweat as the poison continues its merciless attack.
“It was a mistake,” he sputters, his voice faltering. “An awful mistake, Anton. I wasn’t thinking?—”
"You weren’t thinking?” I echo, my voice turning as cold as ice. “You destroyed everything—my family, my life, everything that ever mattered to me. Alessia and I were happy until you went behind my back and used your father to take her away from me. You could've had anyone you wanted, but you took the one person I cared about.”
“My father was your family. He stood by your side all the while you were making ridiculous deals. And how did you repay his loyalty? You put a fucking hit on him. He’s dead because of you.” I close the distance between us, my words laced with a fury that’s long overdue. “You got everything you wanted, but that still wasn’t enough--nothing’s ever enough for you. Now it’s your turn to face the consequences."
His breath comes in short, labored gasps as the poison ravages him. His body begins to shake, uncontrollably now.
He knows time is running out.
“For the love of God, ,” he sobs, his tears mingling with the sweat dripping from his brow. “I’ll change, I swear. I’ll leave the business and give you everything. Just don’t let me die like this.”
I watch the pitiful creature writhing before me knowing he deserves every second of this torture.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a small glass vial. Valentino’s eyes lock onto it, a glimmer of hope flickering in their depths. He lunges forward, but his strength is failing, his body betraying him.
“I have the antidote,” I say, holding it just out of reach. “This will make it all stop.”
His shaking fingers grasp at the air between us, desperation twisting his face. “Please,” he screams, his voice cracking with hysteria. “I’m begging you—please.”
The sound of his groveling, his pitiful begging fills me with a dark satisfaction. Watching this man, my own flesh and blood, reduced to nothing but a sniveling coward pleading for his life.
I dangle the vial closer, then pull it back. “When Lena begged you not to cut her, did you stop?”
“What? I don’t?—”
“When Alessia begged you not to hit her, did you stop?”
His mouth works uselessly, searching for words. There’s nothing he can say to undo the damage he’s caused.
“When Uncle Gio lay dying, struggling for air, did you call for help?”
“, for God’s sake,” he cries, his voice thin, hoarse, and desperate.
Leaning against the cage, I hold the vial just out of reach. “Do you remember how you laughed as you signed my father’s death warrant?” I ask softly. “How you smirked at his funeral, knowing all along you’d orchestrated it?”
He sobs, collapsing again, his body convulsing as the poison takes full effect. “I didn’t mean it... please...”
“You want forgiveness?” I lean in, my voice low, dripping with venom. “Then beg for it. Like the dog you are.”
He scratches at the floor, his body seizing, his breath barely coming now as the cyanide does its work. He’s so close to death.
“For the love of God, ,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper now. “You promised you’d always have my back.”
I look into his wide, terrified eyes, and my voice drops to a cold whisper. “I lied.”
And with that, I pour the contents of the vial onto the floor.
Valentino’s scream echoes in the dungeon as I turn away, his desperate pleas fading behind me. He deserves to die in the darkness he created.
“ In pace requiescat ,” I murmur, leaving him to his fate.