Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles 3)

REMO

“If they don’t arrive soon, I’ll start without them. I don’t give a fuck if it offends Luca fucking Vitiello or not,” Fabiano growled as he stood over his father, who lay on his side on the ground, mouth taped, arms and legs bound together. He stared up at his son with terror-widened eyes.

“They’ll be here any second,” I muttered.

I could tell Fabiano was barely listening. He was too focused on his father. He’d waited a long time for this moment. Fuck, I got it. I’d do anything for a chance to torture my father to death. I still remembered the fucking day I found out my traitorous half-brother had killed the asshole, something I’d dreamed of since I understood our father wasn’t the invincible god he made himself out to be. That he could, in fact, be killed. Since I was a fucking kid, I’d dreamed of erasing our father from our lives …

If there were a Hell, I’d walk straight down into it to make a deal with the Devil so he’d give me the chance to kill the man just once. Maybe twice.

“Not the scrawny boy you can torture for your own amusement anymore, am I?” Fabiano murmured as he crouched in front of the other man. I prided myself on my scary smile, but Fabiano’s expression surpassed everything. He’d enjoy today.

The door creaked open, and Fabiano straightened. Nino came in, followed by Matteo and Romero. I had been surprised when Luca had told me he’d send them but not come himself. I supposed he had less reason to tear into Scuderi than the others. He had been gifted Aria because Scuderi sold his daughters off like cattle, and anyone could admit Aria was a very nice gift. An image of another woman with blond hair and blue eyes entered my mind, uninvited. I shoved it down.

I’d set her free.

“Nothing better than bonding over shared torture,” Matteo said with a grin as he sauntered into the cell in the basement of the Sugar Trap. That asshole always looked as if he’d walked straight out of a photo shoot for a fashion magazine. One day I’d fuck up his pretty face. Romero gave me and Fabiano a curt nod before his eyes, too, fell on Scuderi.

I pushed off the wall and extended my hand to Matteo, who took it after a moment.

“I still can’t stand your fucking face, Remo,” he said with a smirk. “But for this I might hesitate a millisecond before cutting your throat once we’re back to being enemies.”

“That millisecond will be the moment I’ll cut your head off, Matteo,” I said with a twisted smile of my own.

He released my hand. “May the craziest fucker win.”

My smile widened and I caught Nino’s gaze across the room. We both knew who that would be because when it came to crazy fuckery I was the undisputed master.

I turned to Romero, who didn’t display the careless attitude of Vitiello. He obviously was wary about being in a basement in Vegas. I didn’t have the slightest intention to attack either of them today. War with the Famiglia would have to wait until the Outfit was crushed and its territory split between us.

He briefly shook my hand. “Your methods are dishonorable,” he said tersely.

“You disapprove of them and yet here you are … benefiting from them.”

Romero pulled his hand away, his brown eyes returning to Scuderi and his expression filling with hate.

I went over to Scuderi and smiled down at him. His eyes flickered with terror. “I must say you’ve gathered many enemies over time, and we’ve all come together to tear you apart.”

I reached down and ripped the tape from his face then straightened and returned to my spot at the wall. Maybe his agonized screams would drown out the voice of regret in my head.

Serafina walking away in that fucking white dress and that last look she gave me. Fuck it all.

Fabiano circled his father. “Father, I’ve been waiting for this chance for a very long time, and I have every intention of making it last for as long as possible. Lucky for me, Nino is a master at prolonging torture. With a little luck we can keep you alive for two or three days. That way we can all get the fun we deserve.”

Scuderi tried to push himself into a sitting position but failed. His expression became pleading. If he thought that would warm Fabiano’s heart, he didn’t understand what Fabiano did on a daily basis as my Enforcer. “I’m your father, Fabi. You already lost your mother. Do you want to lose me as well?”

Fabiano lunged, smashing his fist into the man’s face. Bones crunched. I watched from my spot against the wall. This wasn’t my moment. Despite my need to maim and kill, I’d hold back. Matteo, Fabiano, and Romero had more reason to spill Scuderi’s blood.