Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
My gaze flicks to Roman, still on his knees as his shock collar continues to keep him down. “Stop,” I beg. “Why do they need to be punished? They’ve done nothing wrong. The guy and his asshole friends deserved it and you know it.”
“Perhaps,” Giovanni says as he draws a gun. My chest sinks as he slowly gazes over it, looking at it as though it were a long-lost friend. “What you’re failing to understand is that my sons are my soldiers and they answer to me, and me alone. Despite my sons’ ability to twist a story, they stepped out of line to protect some girl they barely even know. They ignored a direct order, they betrayed my trust and brought down a storm of hell over the DeAngelis family.”
Giovanni glances back at his sons, his finger moving up and down the sleek metal of the gun as he releases Roman from his torture. “They must be punished,” he says, crouching down as he looks back at me. Giovanni lowers his tone to a threatening whisper as Roman’s deep breath sounds through the room. “Fortunately for you, Miss Mariano, I’ve learned that taking something they care about does not often pan out well for me, so I put the choice in your hands. Which one of them will die tonight?”
“What?” I breathe, positive that I didn’t hear him correctly. My eyes widen in horror and I look back at the guys, all three of their ferocious stares locked on their father. “No, you can’t make me. I won’t.”
He grins down at me before straightening up and turning to look at his sons. “On the contrary.”
My heart thuds erratically and my body tenses as he steps back toward them. The three brothers are anything but angels, and while any court of law would gladly convict them with the death sentence, I simply can’t get on board with it. I can’t explain this weird feeling inside of me. They protected me in the old warehouse, they saved me from my attacker and despite the fucked-up situation we’re in, I couldn’t stand the thought of any of them getting hurt.
I shake my head, distantly noticing the way one of his men steps in closer to me, ready to finish me if I were to make a move.
Giovanni holds his gun up before slowly moving it between his sons. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” he sings. “Which of my sons has got to go?”
The gun stops on Marcus and a sharp gasp tears from my throat, the very thought of him being shot right in front of me already haunting my every last thought. “NO,” I rush out, the terror rich in my tone, my heart already squeezing with grief. “DON’T.”
“No?” Giovanni questions, glancing back at me as he adjusts his position to aim the gun at Levi. “What about this one? I know he’s got a pretty face, but it’d be a shame to waste those brains.” I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes. Levi is intimidating as all hell. He’s scary and ferocious, but there’s still something good inside his heart.
Giovanni turns to his eldest son and steps right into him, pressing the gun to his temple, and there’s no denying it, the excitement burning in his eyes tells me just how badly he wants to pull the trigger. “What about the mastermind?” he asks me, not taking his eyes off Roman’s. “Tempting, isn’t it?”
A loud sob tears from the back of my throat and I shake my head as the tears fall from my eyes. “No, if you want to murder your own sons, that’s on you, but you will not put their blood on my hands,” I demand, the overwhelming fear of not playing his game torments my mind. “I might have only known them for a few days, and while I can barely stand the sight of them, each one of them are better men than you will ever be. You want to give me a choice?” I spit. “Then turn that gun on yourself and pull the trigger. The world is better off without vile people like you.”
Giovanni lets out a heavy sigh and looks back at me. “You see, that’s not really how this works. You pick one, and I shoot. Otherwise, I’m left to make that decision for you, and trust me when I tell you that’s not a decision that you want me to make.”
I shake my head. “I’m not playing your fucking game.”
“Very well then,” he says, his gaze resting back on his three sons. “I guess the decision lies with me.”
Silence falls across the room as he scans up and down the short row of his emotionless sons, softly singing eeny, meeny miny, moe on repeat. The way the boys stare right back, they fucking know that this could be the end, but they’ve made peace with it and are sure as hell prepared to haunt this motherfucker from the grave.