Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I was fucking done.
Done being my family’s pawn and Adrian’s victim.
Adrian made a mistake by marrying me and he would pay terribly for that mistake.
He thought he could use me to hurt his brother. He thought he could ruin me and I would just weep at his feet, like a naive girl. But I wasn’t naive. I wasn’t fragile.
Pure unadulterated hate filled my veins.
Rage consumed me.
I was a woman scorned and more dangerous than he could have imagined.
And if I had to kill my husband for his repeated ruthlessness, I would.
And it would be without regret.
Adrian said I couldn’t spill blood…
But there are other ways to kill a man than spill his blood, right?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Adrian
The concrete floor was slick with blood, the air thick with the stench of fear and copper. Vincenzo, one of my soldiers, hung from a pipe, his wrists bound above his head, his body sagging with exhaustion. His face was a mess of bruises and blood, one eye swollen shut.
“Please,” he croaked, blood bubbling from his split lip. “I didn’t do it.”
I silenced him with a backhand that snapped his head to the side. “Lying to me again, Vincenzo? That’s not very smart.”
I picked up the pliers from the metal table, the steel cold against my bloodied fingers. “You gave our information to Madden. Our shipment routes, our safe houses, our personnel.” I clicked the pliers open and closed. “You put my men at risk.”
La Cosa Nostra was not on friendly terms with Liam Madden, the legacy to the Irish mob. He was cold, calculating and eerily calm in his pursuits.
And his eyes have been on our shipments for a long time now.
Last week, he intercepted one of our shipments and killed two of my men.
Yesterday, I found out who the rat was.
“I swear—”
I gripped his right hand, splaying his fingers. “This is what happens when you betray us.” I positioned the pliers around his thumbnail. “This is what happens to people who lie.”
His scream echoed off the concrete walls as I pulled, slowly, deliberately. The nail came free with a wet pop, blood immediately welling from the exposed flesh.
“Disloyal people,” I continued, moving to his index finger. “People who forget where their allegiance lies.”
Another scream. Another nail.
“Important information. Crucial information.” I worked methodically, taking my time with each finger. “Information that cost two of my men their lives. Information that could put the Salvatore Family at risk.”
By the fifth finger, Vincenzo had passed out. I threw the pliers aside with a clatter.
“Wake him up,” I instructed Marco who was standing in the corner, watching and waiting for my orders.
A bucket of ice water brought Vincenzo back to consciousness, his screams now reduced to whimpers.
“Who else was involved?” I demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. “Who else did you report to?”
“Morelli’s capo,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back into his head but he whispered one name before he passed out again. “Giovanni.”
Now that wasn’t what I expected to hear.
Was the Morellis keeping tabs on me?
And I was pretty sure that went against our alliance.
Tsk, tsk.
What a mess and now I had to clean it up.
I released him, wiping my bloody hands on my already ruined shirt. “Make sure he doesn’t die. I want him to be conscious when we have our meeting tomorrow.”
I left Vincenzo hanging there, unconscious again, blood cascading from his mangled body onto the concrete floor.
I had somewhere else more important to be.
My wife was waiting for me for dinner.
My father has summoned us for a dinner at the Salvatore estate in honor of our union, insisting that it was crucial for Serafina to feel at home among our family. After all, she would bear the responsibility of carrying and raising the next Salvatore heir.
My children.
And it took a village to raise the next generation.
How cute.
***
I strode into the dining room, my boots leaving crimson prints on the marble floor. The blood had dried on my hands, crusting between my fingers, splattered across my shirt in dark constellations.
I was running late and I hadn’t bothered to change.
There was something satisfying about wearing the evidence of my work, especially when I knew how it would affect certain people in this room.
The metallic scent clung to my skin, a familiar perfume I’d grown accustomed to over the years. I watched as conversation died, utensils clinking against plates as heads turned in my direction.
Serafina’s gasp cut through the silence like a knife.
Her face paled, and I couldn’t help but smile. Her hazel eyes widened, her fork frozen halfway to her pretty parted lips. The horror etched across her delicate features was almost comical.
“Don’t worry, wife,” I said, my voice rough to my own ears. “That’s not my blood.”
The room remained silent. I watched as varying reactions crossed my family’s face. It wasn’t the first time they had seen me covered in blood and they were very familiar with what I did or my ways of doing things.