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)
“Where?” he asks as he crosses his arm over his chest.
“I’ll let Gabriella choose the destination.”
He nods. “It will do us all good to get away from New York for a week or two.”
“Here you go, boss,” Emilio says, holding out the tumbler of whiskey.
I take the drink and swallow a sip down.
“It’s Christmas day tomorrow,” Carlo mutters.
“Christ. I forgot.” I glance at him. “I didn’t get the women anything.”
“We’ve been busy.”
At least I can tell Gabriella I killed her family, and the vacation will be good news as well.
When I look at Emilio, he shakes his head. “Anything but shopping, boss.”
I almost let out a chuckle.
“I’ll call Savannah and ask her to bring something over,” Carlo offers. “Jewelry?”
I shake my head. “A new phone and laptop for Gabriella so it’s easier for her to make her tutorials.”
“And for your mother?” We think for a moment, then he says, “I have the perfect gift.”
“What?”
“Audiobooks.”
Christ.
I lift my hand and give Carlo’s shoulder a squeeze. “She’ll love that. Thanks.”
While Carlo steps out of the room to make the call, I toss the rest of the whiskey at Stefano’s face. “Wake up!”
Emilio moves closer and gives the fucker a couple of slaps.
Stefano lets out a groan, and when he lifts his head, I ask, “Ready?”
Spittle dribbles from his mouth as he shakes his head. “No.”
I pass the empty tumbler to Emilio and say, “Give me a knife.”
“No. Please,” Stefano starts to beg.
“And you wanted to be the Capo dei Capi.” I shake my head as I take the knife from Emilio. “Pathetic.”
I step closer to my cousin, and as I press the blade to his right side, I growl, “You’re fucking weak.”
Slowly, I push the blade into his flesh, and I drink in the sound of his cries.
I leave the knife embedded in his side so he doesn’t bleed too much and order, “Bring the bucket.”
When Emilio leaves the room, Carlo comes back in. “All set.”
“Good.”
I stare at Stefano, whose breaths are fast and shallow, his skin ghostly pale.
“I don’t think he’ll last much longer,” Carlo mutters.
Unfortunately, I agree. The fucker is much weaker than I thought.
When Emilio returns with a metal bucket, a blow torch, and a cage with rats, Stefano almost shits himself.
“Dio! No! Misericordia, per favore,” he begs for mercy.
“Take off the belt and strap the rats to him,” I order.
Emilio removes the belt, and Bobby has to help transfer the rats into the bucket before they strap it to him.
“No! No!” Stefano screams hysterically. “Nooooooo!”
I grab the blow torch and turn it on, and as I hold the flame to the back of the bucket, I watch as Stefano loses his ever-loving fucking mind.
This is what you get for fucking with me.
When the rats try to escape the heat, they start clawing and biting their way into Stefano’s stomach, and I drink in every fucking agonizing scream until his body goes into the shock from the rats tunneling their way into his guts.
When his head slumps forward, Emilio checks for a pulse, and only when he nods do I turn off the blow torch.
“Bobby, get the men to clean up,” I order.
“On it, boss.”
When I walk out of the room with Carlo beside me and Emilio at my back, the corner of my mouth lifts.
Finally, I can take a fucking vacation.
Chapter 44
Gabriella
Even though I didn’t have much of an appetite, I made Coda alla vaccinara for Mamma, knowing she loves oxtail.
I hope Stefano suffers a lot.
It’s all I’ve been thinking about since we arrived home after attending the funeral.
I can’t believe Aunt Greta’s gone.
I glance at Mamma, where she’s sitting in an armchair with her eyes closed.
“How are you doing, Mamma?” I murmur.
Slowly, she opens her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. “I keep listening for Greta. It’s so quiet without her.
I know.
“Should I switch on the TV?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m actually tired, cara. I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Let me walk with you to your room.”
I get up from the chair and help Mamma to her feet.
As we walk to her bedroom, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and give her a sideways hug, then say, “Please let me know if there is anything I can do to make you feel better.”
We stop near her door, and she gently pats my cheek. “You’re already helping, mia figlia.”
Hearing her call me her daughter, I wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly. My voice is hoarse as I whisper, “Ti voglio bene, Mamma.”
“Ti voglio bene, cara.” A loving smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You’re such a blessing to me.”
I pull back and swallow hard on the tears from the special moment we’re sharing. “I hope you sleep well.”
Mamma pats my shoulder, then I watch as she walks into her room before I pull the door shut so she’ll have privacy.