Luca - You Will Be Mine (Sicilian Mafia #2)

  “He’s been listening to some light music to keep him awake. Don’t worry. He doesn’t have a clue we’re here yet. He can’t see or hear anything.”

  After smirking at Giovanni and saying my thanks, I walked up to Antonio and punched him in the gut. Once I heard him groan loudly, I looked back at my uncle. “I think he knows we’re here now.” I turned my attention back to the fucking little snot and switched the iPod off. It was on the loudest setting with probably the world’s most shitty music playing. The little things like that were what drove people to insanity.

  Once the music stopped, Antonio’s body stiffened. It made me smile to think he felt fear. It was the very least he deserved and the very least I could give him. As I circled him, his breathing became laboured, and the stench hit my nostrils straight away. He must have soiled himself. Considering he wouldn’t have been given a bathroom break at any time and the fact he had already been here a few days, it didn’t surprise me.

  I waved my hand in front of my face and pulled a disgusted expression towards Giovanni. He just shrugged his shoulders. “He always was a little shit, so it’s no surprise.”

  Antonio stiffened again. “Giovanni?” he asked. “Who are you with?”

  I looked back at my uncle and smiled. I leaned in closer—trying to hold my breath as much as possible—and lifted up his blindfold a little. “Peek-a-boo,” I sang.

  His whole body started thrashing around. “You fucking piece of shit. When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you off once and for all.”

  I lunged for him with a right hook, then a left. His already fractured cheek got the brunt of it, making Antonio howl in pain. “The only way you’re getting out of here is in parts stuffed in garbage bags. That’s the only thing a scumbag like you deserves.”

  “The Cavelli’s will never let you live if you kill me!”

  I started laughing. “You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” I came closer to him again, trying my best to avoid his stench. “I had a rather nice conversation with Adamo the other day. He knows of my plans, and he has given me full permission. Not that I would have accepted it if he hadn’t. You would be here whether he gave me the go ahead or not. It just so happens he agrees with my decision.”

  I saw his chest rise and fall as the fear really crept in. “I don’t believe you. My uncle would never agree to a hit on me.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.” I was keeping slow, steady breaths, and I was surprised at myself for staying so in control. I knew it probably wouldn’t last long.

  “You know what I should have done?” he asked, with a mock tone in his voice.

  “What?” I asked out of pure curiosity.

  He smirked. “I should have killed Rachael sooner. If she hadn’t been such a good fuck, I would have buried her the day we took Clara. If I had done that, then I would have felt what it was like to have your wife’s pussy around my cock as I fucked her raw.” He smirked again, maliciously. “Over and over and over again.”

  I saw red. I punched him hard twice, before wrapping my hands around his neck. I wanted him dead. I wanted to the see the life sucked right out of him. I was ready to kill him now and be done with it, but I felt a set of arms around mine as my uncle pulled me back.

  “This is what he wants. He wants to goad you into killing him quickly. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  I took his words in, letting my hands fall to my sides. Antonio choked and took in a lungful of air as I deliberately stepped back and away from him. “I’m going to have you begging before you draw your last breath. I promise you that.”

  Antonio shook his head. “Never going to fucking happen. I would rather kill myself then beg you for anything, you motherfucker.”

  I fisted my hands together. “You took everything from me, and I’m going to make sure you pay.”

  Antonio looked up and smirked at me. “Clara’s a strong girl. She’ll get over being shot, just like you did. I only meant to aim for her arm, but she was running so fast that I missed.”

  I scowled at him. “Why the fuck are you telling me this?”

  “Because Adamo would never agree to this shit over a girl being shot in the fucking arm. He’ll know what my intentions were by now. I made sure all the family knew before Giovanni caught me.”

  I ripped his blindfold off and watched as he tried to squint in my direction. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong again, asshole. Not only did you miss and hit my wife’s abdomen—almost killing her—but you killed the baby that was inside her womb… A womb that she no longer has. Because of you, she will never have kids again.” I got my gun out and shot him in one foot and then the other. He howled in agony and I relished every moment of it.

  “Fuck!” he screamed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

  “Is that all you got to say, you piece of shit?!”

  Antonio smirked again. “At least you can fuck her as many times as you want without worrying about protection.”

  I raced forward. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

  My hands were about to throttle him again when my uncle made a grab for me. “Luca, calm the fuck down. He’s doing this on purpose.”

  I turned to him. “Can’t we silence him then?”

  Giovanni smiled. “I thought you would never ask. I could just simply gag him, but I have a better idea. Why don’t we sew his mouth shut? Thanks to my dad, I’m pretty good with a needle and thread.” He quirked an eyebrow at him, and I heard Antonio screaming, “NO!”

  “Sounds fucking perfect to me. He’s giving me a fucking headache.”

  Giovanni smiled, walked over to his tray of “goodies,” and placed some sterile gloves on. Once on, he picked a needle up and a bottle of alcohol. “I would normally make sure this was sterile first, but,” he shrugged his shoulders, “who cares? This needle has been used more than a few times, so it has all sorts of shit on it, but I just can’t be fucking bothered to clean it.” He placed the needle in the thread, and I watched as he walked over to a struggling Antonio. “Should I give him a local?” I shook my head. “I thought you might say that. Do you want to hold his head then? He’ll struggle, which will make it very difficult for me to get the needle in.”

  I didn’t hesitate, walking over to Antonio as he screamed; I scrunched my nose up at him. “Fuck, you smell like shit.”

  As Giovanni passed the heavy duty needle through his bottom lip, Antonio screamed in agony. He struggled again, but I held him still. As he went through a few more times, Antonio suddenly stilled. I looked down and saw that his eyes were closed.

  “Don’t worry. He’s not dead. Just passed out. It’s common.” He looked over to his worktop. “Can you pass me the scissors?” I did as asked and watched as Giovanni cut the thread. “There,” he said with a smile. “Much better, don’t you think?”

  I walked around to look more closely, grabbing a fistful of hair to take a better look. He had the threads tightly wound through each lip. Antonio could try to speak, but I doubted very much that he would want to; it would be too painful for him.

  “We’ve made a bit of a mess,” Giovanni said, looking at the pool of blood on the floor. “We need to bandage him up, so he’ll stop losing so much blood. It will be over with far quicker than you had imagined otherwise.” I nodded my head, and against everything in me, I helped bandage the fucker’s feet to stem the flow. “I also have some bags of blood, if needed.”

  I smiled. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  Giovanni shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. “All part of the service.” He looked back at Antonio’s deflated frame. “What shall we do now? He may be out for a little while.”

  I looked across at him and thought for a moment. “Let’s put him on the table. I will think of something later.”

  Giovanni nodded with a smile and helped me take him down. He dragged him over to the surgical table and strapped him down by his arms and legs. He then positioned the table so that he was slightly elevated. “There, that should keep him
in check from now on.” He smiled. “Actually, I have an idea.” He told me what it was, and I smiled. This was definitely going to be fun.

  Luca

  The next morning, I awoke feeling the pressure of everything from the day before. The family and I stayed up half the night chatting and drinking wine. I called my mother a couple of times, and she told me that there had been no change as far as Clara was concerned. She didn’t even ask after me—which, I must admit, hurt like a fucking bitch. This was a whole new side to Clara I thought I would never, ever see. Inside, she was dying, but so was I. I needed her just as much as she needed me. In some ways, it made me want to just shoot Antonio in the head and be done with it. I missed Clara, I missed home, and I desperately needed to get on with the process of healing. Without Clara, how was I supposed to move on? How were either of us supposed to move on?

  Despite my heart feeling that way, Clara’s words still rang through my head.

  “Don’t make it quick.”

  It was the only thing that was keeping me going. Besides, we had left a little surprise for Antonio, and I was eager to see his reaction once he realised what was happening.

  I ate breakfast and performed my daily routine as per normal before venturing down the stairs towards the basement. Like yesterday, my uncle was with me so that he could hold me back if I got carried away. I was certain we could drag on his torture for another couple of days before his body gave in.

  When we entered, Antonio was fast asleep in complete, ignorant bliss. We proceeded to release him of the spare set of trousers we had given him yesterday and placed the mirror just at the right location so that he could see. Once all was set up, Giovanni threw a bucket of freezing water over his head.

  He woke with a gasp, but as he did, the threads on his mouth pulled against his lips causing him to cry out in pain. “Good morning,” I sang as I watched him trying to take deep breaths. He hadn’t seen what was in the mirror yet. He was too busy squinting and trying to focus on me.

  I leaned in closer to him. “I have a little surprise for you.” I pointed to the mirror and heard his muffled screams. He was attached to the bed with his legs in stirrups. He could see it, though. Before we left last night, Antonio had a little surgery done. Giovanni had cut off his dick, sewed him back up, and stuck his penis up his ass.

  With a smile at the job well done, I leaned in and patted his shoulder. “Hey, Antonio, why don’t you go fuck yourself?” I looked down at where his dick was and laughed. “Oh, I see you already are. How does it feel to be fucking your own ass?” I moved away, laughing as his muffled screams got louder. He was turning his head back and forth as tears ran down his face.

  “That’s it. You cry, motherfucker. Let me see those fucking tears.” I leaned in closer to him, and he moved his face away. “This will be a walk in the park compared to where you’re going next. But that’s what happens when you hurt or kill innocents.”

  As I broke away, Giovanni and I went on with our chores. If I did too much, I would kill him, so it had to be done little by little. First, we removed his fingernails and then his toenails before we finally sliced both his ears off. By the time we were done, it was sundown again, and it was a bloody mess. As the evening went into the next day, however, I was done with it. Antonio had to die. I was convinced of that. I just wanted to be back with Clara, so we could start to heal. I wouldn’t be able to do that as long as I was here.

  It was time to move on.

  “So, what will it be today, little nephew?” Giovanni asked.

  I sighed. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I understand. You want to get back to Clara.”

  “I’m not going to make it easy on him today, though.” He nodded, and we made our way downstairs.

  Just like yesterday, Antonio was out for the count. Giovanni woke him with the same wake-up call he received yesterday. Again, he gasped, and again, he moaned because of the threads. He could breathe through them a whole lot better today, so he had obviously stretched them with all his screaming yesterday. We began with all of his toes before moving onto his fingers, but as we got to the last few digits, Antonio started mumbling something. He looked to be in a pathetic state. His bloodied head hung low, and the whimpers had started.

  I looked to Giovanni. “I think he wants to say something.”

  Giovanni nodded and went over to his workbench to get the scissors. Stitch by stitch, he cut the thread, and once all was done, Antonio let out some much needed breaths.

  “Please,” he whimpered.

  I moved closer, so he could hear me. “What was that?”

  “Please,” he whimpered again. “Just kill me. I want to die.”

  I wanted—needed—to hear him beg, and I had finally gotten what I had come for. Even so, I still wanted him to suffer a little more before I finally took his life. With his mouth slightly parted, I watched as saliva dribbled from his bloody lip and onto the floor. It gave me one final idea.

  Grabbing his hair, I pulled his face up to meet my own. Antonio whimpered, making a smile creep up my face. “Giovanni, the pliers,” I barked. Giovanni complied with a nod, handing over the pliers as Antonio weakly struggled against me.

  One by one, I extracted each of his teeth with slow precision. As each one was pulled, Antonio’s yelps gave me renewed energy. Once the very last one had been taken, Antonio’s head fell limply from my hands and hung over the floor. He sobbed like a pathetic animal, and I knew then that I had done all I could to avenge my Clara and our precious baby.

  With a sharp intake of air, I turned to Giovanni and nodded. “It’s time.”

  Giovanni nodded and handed me a gun. I put the safety off and pointed it at his head. “Look at me.” At first, he kept his head down. “Look. At. Me!” I said pushing the end of the gun at his head. He did as instructed, locking his eyes with mine. His were pleading, but I knew all mine showed was blackness; all I wanted was his death.

  “This is for Clara and our baby.” I fired the weapon and watched as his head fell forward.

  It was done.

  Luca

  It had been two months since I had gotten Clara home, and she was still distant with me. Her recovery was a slow progression. Wounds were healing, but I felt that I not only lost our baby that day, but also the love of my life. I was scared to touch her… Afraid to offer any form of comfort just in case she rebuffed me. My fear of rejection was so bad that I found myself quietly keeping my distance, and the more I did that, the more I saw her deteriorating in front of my very eyes. People said she needed time… Time to heal. Time to get over the fact that she would never be able to carry a baby again. But how did someone get over something like that?

  Once I got home, I told Clara that Antonio had been dealt with, but all I got was a cursory nod. I could tell she was suffering inside… I could see it in her eyes. But, half the time, she acted like she didn’t care.

  It was a Thursday afternoon, and business was carrying on as usual. Antonio was gone, and Clara’s parents had been given the warning they needed. I hadn’t heard from them since, and I doubted that I ever would. If I had my way, I would hurt them both. I would never physically harm a woman, but I was sure I could think of other ways to get my revenge on them for the way they had been treating their only daughter.

  Suffice to say, it wasn’t what Clara wanted. She had me, she said. She didn’t need anyone else now that she had all that she ever wanted. The problem was that it felt as though she was pushing me away… Pushing away the one thing she said was all she ever needed. And, by fuck, did it tear me up inside.

  Belinda was coping with the business really well, but I knew it stressed her at times. She missed Clara… Missed her direction and guidance. Sometimes, she ran questions by me because she was too frightened to approach Clara. It had become a regular habit. So, when she asked me something again today, I thought enough was enough. I went in search of my wife.

  At first, I couldn’t find her
, but then I thought she would be in a place where no one was around. A place that would—by that time at eleven in the morning—be empty… The kitchen.

  She was standing at the window, looking out across the fields of our land. As always, she looked lost, but as always, she looked like the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. The urge to go to her and take her in my arms was overwhelming. I didn’t want to hurt her. I had a plan to finally get her to speak with me, but it was tearing my fucking heart, stomach, head—you name it—in two. I swallowed hard, feeling sick. I felt like a wimp and an utter bastard, but I just couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  “Clara?” I asked. But, as usual, I got no answer. She just continued to stare. “Belinda needs your help. You need to get back to work… Take your mind off things.” I waited a moment for her to say something, but again, I was disappointed. “Clara, speak to me.”

  I sighed, closing my eyes. Again, nothing was working, so I knew I had to just bite the bullet and say what I needed to. “It’s been almost three months since it happened. Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” My gut twisted at being this cruel. I never meant a word of it; I was just merely trying to provoke a reaction. I didn’t know whether or not it would work, but when her head finally snapped to mine, I finally saw that spark I thought she had lost. Venom bore holes from her eyes to mine, and by fuck, it finally gave me the first glimpse of hope.

  “You think three months is enough time to get over losing our baby? Fuck you!” she seethed.

  I winced, taking a step back, but I was determined to carry this on. No matter how fucking much this hurt, we needed to talk. We needed to be partners in this. It was the only way we could get past all the suffering.