Page 101 of Ruthless God

“I’m not heartless,” I said. “We’recousins, after all. I’ll give you a chance to live. You’ll fight me. And if you beat me, I’ll let you walk out of here.”

A sound came out of his throat. We both knew he wasn’t walking out of here.

I signaled for Marco to come at me. He hesitated.

“This is for Luna,” I said softly so only he heard me. I wanted him to know exactly why I was doing this. Not because of his betrayal to me with the Russians. I had already suspected that. This was for my wife.

Anger marred his face. How brave of the fucker. Didn’t he know he was a dead man walking at this point, and I was doing nothing more than drawing it out for pure fucking entertainment?

I smiled, showing him my teeth.

With a shout, he raised his fists and came at me.

But he was sloppy and uncontrolled. Even if he wasn’t injured or hadn’t spent his night cramped in a small space, he would still have been no match for me.

I twisted out of his way and pushed my foot out, tripping him.

He went down, face-planting on the hard cement platform we were standing on. Elio held Enzo back when it looked like he wanted to interfere, just as Marco picked himself up, blood dripping down his nose. The sight was what riled my men up. They screamed and shouted at the traitor, all asking for a bloodbath.

And a bloodbath was what I would give. I shot Enzo a small smile, getting satisfaction from the pure hatred in his eyes just as Marco tried to come at me again. I easily moved out of the way. Shame the fucker didn’t fall this time.

He looked at me, then off to one side and the other. I knew what he was planning before he did it.

He shot to the left and jumped off the platform, making his way to the door.

“He’s mine,” I shouted to any man who dared touch him. This was my fucking prize, and I would be damned if anyone else got their fun with him.

I took off after his retreating back.

The fucker barely made it to the door when I was on him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and tugging him back. I twisted him around until he faced me, pulling my arm back and punching him in the face. He went down, and my men cheered.

I ignored the sound, ignored everything but the fact that the fucker was still breathing, and that was unforgivable.

I hoisted him up on my shoulder while he was still disoriented and didn’t put up a fight. By the time he realized what was happening and that he should fight back, it was too late. I got him back on the podium, right where my brothers and his father watched, getting an up-close view of the show. Enzo struggled harder against Elio’s grip, but it was no use.

Before, he was trying to help his son.

Now he was trying to get away, not wanting to witness the fucker’s fate.

Too bad.

I pulled Marco up until he was still, his face no more than a few inches from mine.

“You think you can touch my wife, and I’ll let you live?” I asked. “When I found out you betrayed me, betrayed this organization with the Russians, I had planned to put a bullet through your head myself. It would have been quick and easy. Simple.Painless.But now?”

I laughed, and he spat in my face. “I should have fucked the bitch when I had the chance.”

I saw red.

I pulled him down to my knees, striking him in the stomach, and watched as he went down. It wasn’t enough.

I waited for him to get up and kicked him in the side, hearing his bones cracking from the impact. He let out a loud cry, bowing his body awkwardly to lessen the pain.

I pulled on the front of his dirty shirt until he stood once more before I pulled my hand back and hit him on the neck. He choked, tears streaming down his face. It looked like he wanted to say something, but the injury prevented him from doing so. I didn’t fucking care to hear what he had to say, even if it was to beg for his life or a quick death.

I punched him on the side of his head. Blood spattered out and dotted the cement floor. I hit again and a third, causing him to stumble back and drop to the ground.

I climbed on top of his body, much as he had done with my wife, pounding my fists on his already broken face, getting only little satisfaction from seeing all the blood. His hands came out, struggling to get me away from him, and when he realized that was useless, he opted to cover his face, hoping to lessen the impact.

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