Chapter 30
STEFANO
With an elated cry that ripped out my heart, Enzo ran past me to his mother. I hesitated to extend my arm and stop him.
“Careful, son, your mother’s in a lot of pain.”
It didn’t matter. She still dropped to her knees and caught him in a full hug with tears streaming down her face.
Tony stood a short distance away. As he greeted me with a clipped nod, a tense smile curved his tight lips.
My soon-to-be wife and our son deserved a few minutes alone, so I gestured for my second to follow me to the operations room. I wanted to check in to be sure everything was in hand, and then I could go to bed and sleep for a fucking week.
Grim lines formed across Tony’s forehead after we entered the ops room. He gripped my shoulder.
“Thank Christ you’re here, Stef. I worried they would get to you. I don’t know how to say this, but when the Medico plane hit the tarmac, motherfuckers were there waiting.”
“What? Who was waiting, Tony?”
He didn’t answer my question audibly. Instead, he handed me his phone with an image displayed.
A photo of my men. Good men. The eight men who fought for me only a few hours earlier. Bruce.
Severed hands, limbs, heads, all in one massive pile. My men had been taken apart piece by fucking piece.
The gruesome slideshow continued, showing the mutilation process, the body parts piled up, someone dousing the heap with gasoline.
I gagged and covered my mouth as vomit hit my throat.
Tony handed me a trash can and held my shoulder again.
Neither of us dared to look away from his phone.
Next, a video played…
A struck match and the resulting inferno.
A heavily accented voice spoke over the crackling flames.
“Bratva does not honor your fucking treaty. Send Klimov’s whore back to Chicago or face worse consequences.”
TO BE CONTINUED