Page 65 of Mafia Princess

“No,” I growl, as waves of nausea wrack my insides.

I struggle against my constraints, as his firm fingers dig into my scalp and hold me still, so I can’t look away from the screen.

The monster on screen drops my mom onto the concrete floor, her body moves the slightest, and I realize she’s still alive. He looms over her with a hunting knife held firm in his fist and smiles at the camera before he kneels beside her and proceeds to disembowel her.

Choking as vomit pours out of my mouth, I cough as the chunks get stuck in the gag, making me swallow some of the foul vomit. My tears have dried up and my eyeballs are on fire as acid burns my throat. But the bastard behind me holds my head firm.

In a flurry of movement, two men storm the room, one taking down Tommaso and the other racing toward me. The monster behind me is shot dead and his hands fall from my head, allowing me to turn away from the footage.

“Fuck me, baby girl,” Luca’s voice fills my head in a sweet melody, pressing against the dark images invading it. He kneels in front of me and grips my shoulder. “I’m here now. I’m fucking here,” he chokes, as he takes in all of me, from my bloodshot eyes to the vomit stains down my front.

Wincing as he pulls the duct tape stuck in my hair, both my eyes close involuntarily, the sandpaper feeling not easing no matter how much I blink. Luca stands and as he unties the gag, chunks of vomit continue to pour from my mouth and I hunch over trying not to get any more on me. I feel the ties on my wrists loosen and when they’re finally free, I slump forward, my breasts pressed against my vomit-covered thighs.

A low strangled moan piques my attention and I spot Milan restraining his father, tying his wrists behind his back. Confusion overshadows my relief as I watch Milan wedge a knee into his father’s back. Milan’s eyes catch mine and his face is etched in fury.

Luca’s strong arms grip me and he hauls me into him, holding me against his chest. “Are you okay?” he whispers into my neck.

My arms wrap around him, their feeling and strength returning slowly in pins and needles, which feel like fire ants eating away at my flesh. “I’m okay,” I sob and step back from him.

His gaze rakes over me, not convinced with my answer.

“Can I borrow your gun?” I hold out my hand.

Luca doesn’t say a word, he hands his gun over to me and watches in curiosity as I stalk my way to Milan and his father. Milan’s gaze follows me the whole way, never wavering, his apology flashing across his features like a neon beacon.

“Fuck, Maya, I had no idea.” He struggles to hold his father still while the old mobster whines and shrieks under his weight.

“If you can’t watch this, I suggest you leave the room,” my voice comes out dead. I glance at the fucker pressed into the floor and grip the gun in my hand.

“I’m not leaving.” Milan’s eyes flit to Luca as he approaches.

I squat down and get up close and personal, ensuring Tommaso can see my face. I spit leftover chunks of vomit at his face. He flinches but says nothing. “Say your prayers, fucker.” I smash the handle of the gun into his cheekbone, gaining a low grunt from him.

Milan moves off his father as I stand back up and work out what I’m going to do to This filthy fucker. I had so many plans on how I was going to torture the bastard who murdered my mom. But here I am, ready to lay my wrath on him, and I hesitate.

My mind is blinded by the images of my mom, and my heart is shattered. I’m so fucking exhausted that I can barely move. I think the shock of the video has hit me as I can feel my hand shaking around the gun. I’m not sure who stopped the footage, but the projector lays on its side, smashed to pieces.

“Pull his pants down.” I tighten my grip on the gun.

Milan slices his eyes to mine, unsure of where I’m going with this.

“Hey, man, if you need to leave.” Luca’s voice cuts through the tension.

Milan doesn’t say a word, he rips his father’s pants down until they’re at his knees, and steps back. Tommaso thrashes on the ground, crying his apology in spluttered words.

I turn to Luca. “Restrain him.”

Without hesitating, Luca squats, his hand firmly yanking Tommaso’s bound wrists upward at an odd angle. Tommaso lets out a shriek of pain and stills.

I crouch down and shove the gun against his ass. “Ready, butt fucker?” I grin like a fucking psycho, as I shove the barrel of the gun into his asshole with extra force.

The only noise that can be heard is Tommaso’s erratic breathing. Milan and Luca have stilled, waiting for me. Angling the gun downward, I press the trigger, and the bullet slices through his internal organs and exits out his neck. The mess is spectacular, both Luca and I are covered in blood as Tommaso writhes in agony for the very last time, finally laying lifeless without a sound.

TWENTY - THREE

The Aftermath

The days following what was meant to be my fake wedding day were filled with silence. I holed myself up in my childhood estate and wouldn’t allow anyone in, except for Summer and Amber. They stayed here with me, ordering delivery and making sure I kept hydrated.

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