“Please, signore. I can’t... You cannot put me down here.”
The soles of my shoes scratched against the old stone as I descended. Hopelessness rattled off the walls, while blood and despair hung in the air—two familiar scents that never failed to please me. I had done terrible things in this place, and my son would do countless more. The legacy of the Ravazzani ’ndrina would continue here through fear and intimidation, through wrath and torture.
Grabbing a ring of keys off the peg by the door, I strode to the nearest cell. The iron bars were impossible to escape, though many had tried. Chains were embedded into the wall, but I didn’t think those were necessary with her. Not yet, at least.
I set her on her feet. Tears tracked her cheeks and her eyes were wild as she clutched at my jacket. “Please. Don’t do this. I will literally freak out.”
This generation. So damn dramatic.
I shook her off and stepped back, my intention clear. A capo never changed an order once it was made. We never showed weakness or remorse. I would gain the upper hand with this woman and she would fall in line.
I stepped outside the cell and swung the heavy metal door shut before she could slip through it. When it closed, she shook her head, panic causing her to shake. She clutched the iron bars. “Please, signore. Don’t do this. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”
The words made my dick twitch as I imagined her on her knees being very good for me.
Minchia!There had to be a special circle of Hell for a man who had impure thoughts about his son’s fiancée.
With a furious twist of my wrist, I locked the door with the old key. Above ground, we may have gone high tech but medieval worked perfectly well down here. “Perhaps this will teach you who holds the power in this house, piccola monella.”
She rattled the bars with a pained cry and for a brief moment I reconsidered, something which I almost never did.
A capo cannot show weakness.
My father had drilled this into my head for years, almost from birth. It was in our blood, our history. After all, the word “’ndrina” was derived from the Greek, meaning “man who does not bend.”
Which meant there would be no mercy, not even for her.
I spun and started for the exit. “Enjoy your stay.”