Chapter 40 #2
“I am already married, so who exactly did you have in mind?” I ask, entertaining the idea. If it got me Lily back, I would do just about anything.
“Your underboss and capo are unmarried.” Elio gestures to the two men beside me, neither of whom has reacted to this suggestion.
“I’ll do it.” I glance at Dante; his declaration and lack of hesitation are not even surprising. He knows Nero is in love, and I can see the relief when Nero looks over at him. And the guilt.
“Give us a moment,” I say to the brothers, who look at each other and then rise, moving toward the door, where Matteo escorts them out.
“I’ll do it,” Dante repeats, his gaze drifting from Nero to me as we assess him. “It’s good business. They can move stock. It would double our profits, and at least this way, we would not constantly fight them for territory. It makes sense.”
“You can say no, and we will find another way.” I say the words, but I don’t really feel that confident. This is our best opportunity to get our women back. He smiles and then laughs, some of the old Dante shining through.
“This is the best lead we have. Let's just pray this Violet woman takes after her name in the looks department.
Else, I'll just have to take a mistress,” he jokes, trying to make light of the situation.
As if what we are asking him to do is nothing.
He would literally be the puzzle piece joining two sides of the underworld together.
A piece of a new history. It is a lot of pressure—a lot for him to bear.
When neither of us laughs, his smile drops, and the seriousness returns.
“It is the least I can do for the famiglia , Dominico. For you. She is the Don’s wife. It would be an honor for me to do this.” His words are sincere, and his tone broaches no more argument. He has made up his mind.
“Fine,” I say, rising as I pat Dante on the shoulder affectionately. We head out of the hall and towards the foyer, where the two brothers wait silently.
“Dante will marry your sister. You have my word. We will formally finalize the arrangement later. For your sister's sake, and my wife and Holly, time is of the essence,” I say, holding my hand out to Elio and then Enzo, who shake it and even smile.
“To mark the occasion and to let you know that we are as serious about this as you are, we have a gift. However, it might be in a worse state than it originally was. It was necessary, though, to get what we needed,” the eldest brother says as they walk outside and point to the gate, where another unmarked black SUV waits .
I order the gates to open, and the car pulls up beside us. The brothers walk to the vehicle's rear as the boot lifts automatically.
We follow them, and the first thing I register is the smell of burnt flesh, sweat, urine, and feces.
The source of the stench lies curled up in the fetal position, naked and battered, on a clear plastic sheet in the trunk.
He is unconscious, and judging by his condition, he must be close to death.
I lean forward, and it is only when I see the tattoo on his neck that I realize who this is: Rocco.
While I am upset that I was not the one inflicting this pain, I can’t help but smile at the pure fucking torture these two have put him through.
He no longer has any fingernails or toenails, on the ones still attached to his body, which aren't many.
Large chunks of his hair are missing, as are patches of his scalp and an entire section of his right ear.
His legs sport severe burn marks from hot pokers meeting the flesh repeatedly, the reason behind the burnt flesh smell.
His genitals are swollen as if he has been repeatedly punched in that area.
Fuck. This was a thorough job. Anyone would have given these two what they wanted if this was what they were in for.
“I’m impressed,” I say honestly, stepping back as I dip my head, the two guards nearby springing into action. They grab the edges of the plastic as they haul him out.
“We thought that once you saw this, you would want him back,” Enzo says wearily, finally speaking as he holds his phone out to me.
Matteo, Dante, and Nero close in as I push play.
My heart sinks when I see it is my Lily strapped to a blood-splattered wall, her back facing us.
Rocco approaches her from behind. She is still in the yellow bikini, except it is dirty, and the body it barely covers is bruised and cut.
Fuck. She was hurt. They hurt her. He hurt her, I think, glancing at the fucker now lying on the floor feet from us.
The asshole pulls on her bikini top string, loosening it and throwing it on the floor before he squeezes her breast hard.
Hard enough that Lily should wince, but she doesn't, her glazed-over look telling me she has checked out.
“Don’t pass out, piccola puttana . When we are done here, I’ll treat you to a different kind of beating,” he threatens, grinding himself against her rear.
Utter fucking rage engulfs me, only made worse as the video continues.
My free hand balls into a fist, and the men beside me stiffen as the first lash of the whip hits her already scarred skin, tearing the flesh apart to let the blood escape.
Still, she does not make a sound, but by the sixth one, she can’t anyway, as she loses consciousness, her head lolling to the side awkwardly.
He continues, only stopping on the twelfth lashing when someone off-camera enters, the recording ending at that point.
“Call Doc Warren. I want him on standby,” I instruct Nero as I return the phone to Enzo, who looks confused.
“Dying would be too easy for him. My doctor is skilled at keeping pieces of shit like this uncomfortably alive. I will make sure he is on the brink of death for a long time. Until I am satisfied, which may be never,” I explain, an impressed glance exchanged between them.
“Now. Let’s go get our women back.”