alessandro
With my hands cuffed above my head, I took another punch to the abdomen. It was already bloody and bruised, open wounds and gashes leaking blood. I hung my head and thought of the only things that used to get me through nights and days of abuse when I was younger.
Having a loving mother who wouldn’t have sold me out.
Being part of a family that actually loved me.
All fantasies and dreams.
But one day, I wanted them to be real. I wanted that family. I wanted to have kids. I wanted to love and protect them. I wanted them to know that they’d always be safe when they were with me.
And the only person who came to mind when I thought about the future I wanted was Chiara. Sure, she was annoying, always in my way, wanting to do things her way, and sometimes clueless—especially with what went on in her family—but she was so fucking strong and relentless.
Maybe if things were different, we’d be able to be happy together. But things weren’t different at all. They were hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.
Another punch to the mouth this time, and I spat up more blood.
Even if she ended up coming here and finishing me off, they’d kill her afterward. She’d be all happy that she was finally part of the family, but then she’d turn around to see her father’s gun to her forehead, and she’d die a painful death.
“Listen, you fucking son of a bitch,” Chiara’s father said to me. “When she gets here, you don’t say a fucking word about this business to her. She doesn’t find out shit, or she dies too.”
I clenched my jaw and spat my blood at him. “You and I both know that she knows too much about your fucking business already. You wouldn’t let her walk out of here alive. You’d kill her, like you killed your own wife.”
He hit me harder against the face, this time with a set of brass knuckles. For a moment, it went dark, and my vision was so cloudy that I couldn’t see straight … but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
“You fucking had her killed,” I repeated, unable to even keep my head up. “You’re a fucking liar, betrayer. What will Chiara do when she finds out that you killed her mother? She’ll hate you, fucking despise you, and—”
There was only rage in his eyes as he hit me again and again and—
His phone rang, and my heart sank. It was probably Tommy, telling this son of a bitch that the job had been completed. That Chiara was dead. It had to be.
He answered it, angry, then slammed the phone down furiously. “She killed them. All of them. Chiara is coming.”