Page 3 of Psycho

“You mean she hates mafia families?”

That’s something I could at least understand. There are people that hate us simply because of who we are. People fear us, and that causes dislike. I don’t blame them really, but if they don’t cross us, as the assistant DA did, they have nothing to fear. Aside from my brother, Reaper, we don’t hurt innocent people. He kills for the thrill, and I’m confident at least one innocent person has lost their life at his hands.

“No,” his nostrils flare, as he exhales a shaky breath, teary blue eyes focused on mine. I know he’s hoping for survival, and I’ll let him hold onto that hope, for now.

“She hates your family. The Bonettis. I told her to let it go, because I know enough about you to know it’s a death sentence.”

Why does she have this obsession with us? It could be to further her position in the DA’s office. Or maybe she wants to write a book, or some stupid shit like that.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She won’t talk about it. Only said it was a personal matter.”

How the fuck can it be a personal matter, when we’ve never met this goddamn woman? While I do believe him, when he says he doesn’t know, the lack of information causes the blood in my veins to boil. Fucking dangerous for him.

“Open your mouth.”

He does, and I close my forceps around his tongue, gripping it hard enough to make him whine like a little bitch.

“If you’re not going to tell me what I want to know, I may as well cut your fucking tongue out.”

Theo’s face turns beet red as I tighten my forceps on his tongue, holding it firmly in place. His muscles are tense, and his unblinking eyes bulge, as he moans frantically.

“You’re fucked, Theo. There is nothing you can do, other than give me what I want.”

Sobs wrack his entire body, as his eyes dart back and forth, clearly wondering what’s next for him. Shaking his head, he attempts to wriggle free from my grasp, but fails miserably. The only thing he does is cause himself more pain, as the metal digs into his tongue.

“Your death is a guarantee. The only question is, will it be quick, and relatively painless, or slow, and excruciating?”

It’s not often they get the choice. I guess I’m feeling generous today.

His red eyes stare at me as he cries. Fuck, he cries a lot for a man. Then again, the Bonetti boys were raised to be stronger than your average man. It was a lesson I learned the hard way, and early in my life. I was twelve, the first time I was tortured, because I was the first-born Bonetti son.

Hanging upside down, from a chain wrapped around my feet, they lower my head into a filthy barrel of water, submerging me for what feels like hours. Each time they pull me up, I cough, and gasp for air.

The Russian man stares at me with boredom.

“Where are the weapons?” he asks in a thick accent.

I say the same thing I’ve said for the last several days.

“I don’t know, I’m just a kid.”

My father has been training me, to eventually take over, for the last year. I know where the warehouses are, the man that manufactures them, and everyone involved, yet, I won’t tell them a damn thing. A Bonetti will endure whatever torture they hand out, so I’ll gladly die, but I will never give any information on my family.

Only weak men succumb to torture. Even as a child, I’m unshakable.

He lowers my head into the water again, and I hold my breath for as long as I can, but eventually end up taking water into my lungs. Kuznetzov pulls me back up, with a grin on his face, as I cough once again and fight for air.

“Ready to talk?” He says, and I nod my head, as much as I can, with all the blood rushing to my brain.

“Sorry, Cuntnetzov, you won’t break me. I am a Bonetti. You can kill me, but you’ll never force me to tell you a fucking thing about my family.”

Theo continues to whimper and cry, snapping me from my memory, and causing me to roll my eyes. I press my blade to his throat, which only makes him squeal louder.

I arch an eyebrow in warning. At this point this asshole is far more annoying than useful.

“Careful, make too much noise and the movement of your throat might be your end.”

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