Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
But as I’m on my way to the warehouse, my thoughts are focused on what lies ahead.
Vengeance burns in my chest, an incessant inferno that can only be extinguished with blood.
A fuck ton of blood.
Today, everyone who’s hurt me and mine will die. Everyone but Stefano. He will suffer a million times more than Gabriella did before he meets his gruesome end.
After the SUV pulls up to the warehouse, I shove the door open and climb out.
Dressed in a suit, I adjust my jacket before I walk to the side entrance while pulling my phone out to call Tommy.
“Yes, boss?” he answers on the second ring.
“Bring them.”
“Be there in ten minutes.”
When I enter the building, I head to the room where Stefano is being held. The moment I walk inside, one of my men slaps Stefano. “Wake up.”
The fucker lifts his head.
“I told you you were stupid,” I mutter. “How long have you been planning to overthrow me?”
“Since you took the seat,” he grumbles. “I’ve been saving money for nineteen years to afford an army.”
“And look what all that saving bought you,” I mock him. “Before I get started with you, Carlo has a gift he’d like to share with you.” I check the time. “In give or take five minutes.”
I glance at Emilio. “Strip the fucker and put on the belt.”
While the men get to work, ridding Stefano of his clothes and wrapping the stun belt around his waist, I watch.
Emilio pushes a control into Stefano’s hand, then I say, “Every time you want a drink of water, something to eat, or even a piss break, press the button.”
“What happens if I press it?” Stefano asks.
I nod at Emilio, who presses the button, and the next second, Sefano’s ass lifts off the chair he’s tied to as the electric current shoots through him.
He slumps back against the chair, completely breathless from the shock.
“You’ll torture yourself for every basic necessity you need or die of thirst,” I mutter.
“I’d rather fucking die,” he spits at me.
I shrug, and when I hear footsteps, I turn to face the door. “Here they are now.”
“Who?” Stefano asks.
Tommy and his team herd the di Bellas and Cettina into the room, and when my guests lay eyes on Stefano, shock ripples over their faces.
“Stefano!” Cettina cries, and when she tries to rush to her son, Carlo grabs hold of her arm. Her eyes fly wildly between me and Carlo as she asks, “Why are you doing this?”
“What’s going on here?” Mr. di Bella asks. “We were told we were coming for the wedding.”
Ignoring the man, I nod at Carlo.
He drags Cettina closer to Stefano, where he forces her onto her knees.
“Wait? What’s going on?” she asks, panic and fear drenched in each word.
“She has nothing to do with this!” Stefano yells. “Get your hands off my mother, you fucking bastard.”
Carlo presses the barrel of his gun to her head, and looking Stefano dead in the eyes, he growls, “A mother for a mother.”
He pulls the trigger, and her blood sprays over Stefano’s legs before she drops dead by his feet.
“You fucker!” Stefano shouts. “You fucking fucker.”
Carlo watches with satisfaction as Stefano begins to sob while I turn my attention to the di Bellas.
“On their knees,” I mutter the order to Tommy and his team.
“No!” Mr. di Bella yells while his wife makes a panicked sound.
“Wait. Tell us what this is about,” the son barks.
Once they’re on their knees, I pull my Glock from behind my back. My fingers tighten around the handle as I look at them.
“You abused my wife,” I say, my tone low with the promise of death.
“We didn’t,” Mrs. di Bella cries. “I don’t know what lies–” Her sentence cuts off in a scream as I train my gun on her son and pull the trigger.
“No!!! NoNoNo!” she wails when he slumps down dead beside her.
“Please! Stop,” Mr. di Bella begs.
I move the barrel of the gun to Gabriella’s father, and locking eyes with Mrs. di Bella, I say, “You’re not screaming loud enough.”
When I pull the trigger, her eyes fill with horror and heartache as she watches her husband die.
I want this woman to suffer the most unbearable pain of losing her husband and son, because she was supposed to protect and love Gabriella, and she didn’t.
Once the men are dead, I crouch in front of Mrs. di Bella and ask, “How much pain are you in right now?”
She sobs, her body trembling while she gasps for air, then a wounded cry tears right from her fucking soul, and she lets out a harrowing wail.
“Good,” I hiss before I rise to my full height, then I order, “Take her to the other room where she can mourn her loss.”
I watch as they drag her away and signal for the other men to remove the bodies.