Chapter 32 #2
Ten hours later, the sound of a grown man’s screams reverberate around me.
A deep, violent growl rumbles beneath the sharp cries of pain as the Cane Corso clamps his jaw tighter around a meaty thigh.
Dogs aren’t my typical partners in crime, despite having access to some of the deadliest and most highly skilled guard dogs in the country.
My brother Armani’s best friend Colton is the son of Winona Wyatt, after all.
The woman not only trains rescued canines herself, but has every connection needed to outfit an army of men with hound companions.
A couple of my men have purchased from her before, and most of the time, their dogs are simply used for training or for appearances.
But today, three of them are out in full force, thanks to Gino’s idea.
Made men coming for you in the dark of night is already a terrifying concept.
Having those men breaking down your door in the middle of the night with bloodthirsty hounds?
Terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“I wonder if he thinks you taste good,” I muse, staring down at the suffering man with a dull look in my eyes.
“I might not be able to command him off you if he enjoys you too much. Do you think you enjoyed opening your mouth to spread lies about my family as much as he’s enjoying chewing on your thigh like a big juicy bone? ”
The man only screams some more, and his eyes show little recognition of understanding my words. He’s blinded by pain and agony along with fear for his life. A pity, since my question seemed so clever.
“I should thank you for your information by calling my friend off,” I continue, tilting my head to the right side.
His yelling is becoming less satisfying and more bothersome by the minute.
“But I wanted to make sure that a little more motivation wouldn’t have you changing your story on me.
Are you sure you’ve told me everything I need to know, hmmm? ”
He gurgles out a screaming yes, and I sigh.
Apollo whistles sharply from behind me and the Cane Corso happily listens to him, opening his jaw to release the man before trotting over to sit by his feet.
“Oh, look at that. He’s not hungry it seems.” Clicking my tongue, I take a step back.
“You should get yourself patched up, and maybe you won’t bleed out in an alleyway like the scum you are.
Next time, I won’t be so kind. Next time, I’ll have him bite off your tongue before he goes for your jugular. ”
“The Moretti family is so kind,” Gino says pointedly.
None of us stay to hear him crying his thank yous, trying to scramble to his feet to save his own life. If I had to bet on it, I’d say he’ll live to see another day. The stupidest men always seem to find ways to prolong their lives.
And in this case, he didn’t do anything other than regurgitate information given to him by what he thought must be a reliable source.
He was the fifth person we tracked down in the ten plus hours since we started our hunt, and he seems to be our last stop—at least for today.
I didn’t expect the names he spilled out to be the end of the line for us, but with the added string in the web of lies being connected to such a big source, I believe our work may be done.
At least, our work in searching for the root of the lies.
Ezio and Sara Sala.
Cleo’s parents.
Why the cunts would dare spread such vicious theories when I’ve left them alone thus far is beyond me. I would have prayed to stay under the radar than further risk the wrath of The Outfit after my deeds were exposed by my daughter’s death.
I’ve had plans to destroy them since finding out the extent of their treachery, but I’ve been letting them stew in their paranoia, hoping that they’re suffering while worrying if I’ll take revenge against them.
And instead of scurrying into the shadows they insult my new wife and put my son’s name in their mouths.
Despite finding our source, and no longer going out to terrorize rumor-spreading filth, our day is far from over with our last stop.
Calls are made, planning is had, and messages are sent.
Apollo goes home, and I go with him, only staying for an hour to speak with our father and kiss my niece and nephews on the head.
My wife keeps in contact throughout the whole ordeal, and agrees not to put the kids to sleep before I come home.
She seemed slightly alarmed when I told her I would be leaving the state, but reassured when I promised I wouldn’t be more than a few hours away and in the air.
Also when I told her that extra guards were being sent to watch the house.
She, again, told me that she wouldn’t be calling any of my siblings for backup and that the kids and her were having plenty of fun on their own.
Plenty of exhausting fun, it seems.
I arrived home an hour before the kid’s typical bedtime and found them passed the fuck out on the couch like they had a long day at the beach or something equally as tiring. A movie is still flashing on the TV, basking them in soft light while the volume plays so low it’s barely audible.
Katya’s hair is thrown up into a wild knot at the top of her head, plenty of fallen strands bouncing out of it and falling over her closed eyes.
Leo looks like a human pancake, sprawled out while snuggled up to her.
His head just below hers, but his legs and arms open wide, peeking out of his blanket.
Bastian has a pillow on her blanket-covered calves, sleeping soundly on the cushy surface while curled up and holding her slightly exposed ankle.
My heart fucking bursts as I blink down at the scene.
Feelings are growing for Katya, and I’d be a fucking fool to deny it any longer.