Page 17 of Sinister Savior

“Mario,” I whimper, not sure if it’s in pleasure or pain as he pulls his fingers out and forces his dick inside me. My body tenses, fighting him but welcoming him all the same. It feels so good, so wrong and right all at once, that I don’t know how to process it. I scream and buck, writhing and grinding on him. My hand rubs my pussy so frantically, I forget what I’m doing.

“Shh, babe.” He grunts as he pushes himself deeper and deeper inside me until we’re both panting and moaning together. “Fuck, Alice.” He moans my name into my ear as he pounds into me from behind.

His dick feels like it will tear me in two, like my ass is splitting open. And at the same time, it’s such intense pleasure, I don’t want him to stop. I scream, “Mario… oh, God…” And I don't even care that we’re in a church rectory or that a priest may hear me.

Mario grunts as he fucks me, slamming into me harder and harder, stretching me in ways I didn’t think possible. His grip on my hips tightens, and he grunts, “I’m close…” His words only egg me on, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes.” I pant, bucking back into him. “Fuck, me. Do it!” I scream as my orgasm washes over me like a tidal wave, sending me into the dark water where all I can feel is pleasure. His hand comes down on my ass hard, the crack of skin on skin deafening, and I cry out again as it pushes the sensations to new heights.

Mario moans, his breathing hard and labored as he pumps me full of his seed. I collapse against the mattress, feeling spent and used and so complete, I think I might explode. “God,” he groans, collapsing next to me. His body glistens with sweat and his chest heaves.

“Fuck,” I breathe, trying to catch my breath. “I needed that.” Post-sex giddiness weighs me down, relaxing every muscle in my body. I feel warm and tired, yawning even though I’m out of breath.

He laughs, and I can hear the relief in his voice. “Me too.” Mario rolls off me but keeps a possessive hand on my hip, as if afraid I might disappear. We lie there, catching our breaths and listening to each other's heartbeats, synchronizing them until they beat as one.

I turn to my side, and he curls around me, covering us with the blankets that were tossed in the romp, and I feel safe again, like my soul is being guarded and there are ramparts around my body. Mario is a formidable opponent to anyone who comes after me, and I feel lucky to have him. But now I wonder even more if I am something he wants or just a conquest, a mission he has to conquer in order to attain enlightenment in his own eyes.

“Mario?” I say quietly, but he sighs hard and grunts. He’s tired, and why wouldn’t he be? He spent all night protecting me. “Sleep well,” I tell him, not ready to let this moment pass but understanding his need. I don’t deserve him, or maybe he doesn't deserve me. Time will tell. For now, I need to rest, to keep my energy up in case they find us again.

God, I pray they don’t find us again.

12

MARIO

The basement is crowded. A thick layer of smoke hangs in the air around us, the scent reminiscent of my days of doing this regularly. I’ve given up the habit and don’t intend to pick it back up, but the sweet pipe tobacco is tempting. The whiskey that’s being passed around, however, is another story. I’ve lost my tolerance, which makes it even more enjoyable as I sip from the glass tumbler and listen to Ervine rousing the men to fight back.

Tony, having barely made it out of my brother’s house alive, sits across the room. His arm is in a sling, his chest bandaged up beneath the dark jacket he wears. He’s shown his true colors now, and none of my brother’s men will accept him. The injuries he sustained almost took his life, and now he’s out for blood when before, he merely wanted to help an old friend. His loyalty to me is forever cemented, and I didn’t have to twist his arm into following me.

Ace and Sam and a dozen other men huddle around on borrowed stools and chairs. Each of them has a cigar or glass of whiskey or both. Ervine did well, plucking them from within my brother’s organization and showing them the light. For a cleaner, the man sure knows the lay of the land, and I can bank on that when we head into this war.

“The fact is, Paolo Gatti is not your friend.” Ervine stands on the third step up, his head rising above the rest who all watch him eagerly. No one was coerced into coming here tonight, and all of them have been sworn to secrecy, though Ervine told me that wasn’t difficult. They’ve all seen the crooked ways my brother does business, double-crossing anyone he pleases without any sense of loyalty or respect to those who make him who he is.

Without worshippers there is no God, just a lonely figurehead on a wall that gets forgotten. Without soldiers to do the bidding, there is no war, no army to follow any general’s commands. These men know this. They also know the thirteen of us can never take down his organization with hundreds of members and a reach that spans the entire state. He has allies who aren’t his direct subjects, but so do I. I have to depend on those connections to see that my brother is to be feared, not respected.

“Paolo Gatti is your enemy,” Ervine continues, waving his cigar in the air as he speaks. It leaves a trail of smoke everywhere he gestures. I watch the swirls in the air thinking of how only weeks ago, I sat in the garden outside the rectory at St. Anne’s and watched cherry blossoms fall and swirl in the breeze in a similar manner. But when destiny calls, you don’t hesitate. You act.

“Any man who can murder his father in cold blood in order to take his spot and assume authority is a traitor and a liar. In this business—in this Family—we don’t allow traitors or liars to have influence, much less live.” Ervine, not even a member of my family by blood or oath, speaks as if he is my sibling, and I accept that. It’s not blood that makes a family. It’s trust. And I trust him emphatically with my life.

“We must reach out to those under his influence. Point out to them the man’s failings. He goes so far as to send his loyal men into a battlefield where he knows they will be ambushed and killed, simply so he can make a few dollars. Prizing money over relationships, power over blood… We can’t stand for it. It’s time for him to come down from that self-proclaimed throne and let the rightful owner take his place.”

Ervine grabs my hand and raises it to the ceiling, and the men raise a cheer of celebration. It’s loud. I know Alice is upstairs now, listening, wondering what on earth I’m doing down here. I’ve kept things from her for her own good. If she knew what I’m planning, she would try to stop me. I don’t relish the thought of overthrowing my brother by force, but it’s the only way. If he would have just agreed to turn a blind eye to the lost money and let Alice go, given me his word of honor as a man, I’d have let this slide.

But Paolo is a beast, a monster stalking any trace of infidelity in the night, lying in wait for prey to scurry into his traps, and with great joy, twisting off their heads without mercy. His only loyalty is to himself and his name, and he has never thought to make anyone important or worthy unless they could offer him something.

I stand, joining Ervine on the stairs, and he nods the conversation over to me. I’m not even sure how to address these men. Once upon a time, I was nearly as ruthless as my brother, prone to fits of rage, violent, aggressive, and almost merciless. But I knew what loyalty was, fidelity, faithfulness, honor, and respect. Men who traded their lives for the cause, to follow me into battle and business alike, they were honored and revered.

I address them, not as their leader but as their equal, which is something my brother never does, something he would never do.

“I spent the past several years living a life you would never expect. Plucked from the fires of sin and baptized into the realm of grace and forgiveness, I’ve been living life as a changed man.” There are grunts of approval. All of us know when we look into the eyes of our children or the women we love that killing and stealing isn’t right. That we’d never stand for it if it were done to our families. The feeling of redemption is always a hair’s width away from our grasp at any given moment.

There’s no doubt in any mind in this room that hell awaits all of us. Whether an afterlife torture that lasts for eternity or simply the unduesuffering of self-imposed means that suffocates and destroys us until we die. “My journey was never about salvation, but recompense. And I stand before you today knowing the only way to make amends, to fix things, to set the trajectory of my Family, of this city, back on the right path, is to make Paolo Gatti pay for his sins now. To snatch vengeance from the hand of God Almighty and place it squarely in the hands of those he has wronged.”

I set my jaw, my nostrils flaring as I look at each face while I speak. “If not for you, for your loved ones who have suffered at his hands, then for those who cannot fight back on their own. For those who’ve lost their lives under his regime, those who will yet suffer if he isn’t stopped.”

“Yeah!” the shout goes up, whistles and cheers shaking the ceiling above us. The men clap and nod, and I’ve found myself an army. Albeit small and humble, but an army, nonetheless. This is a start. It will grow, and we will prevail.

Pride swells in my chest, and I turn when I hear the door to the basement click open. Father Thomas stands at the top stair gazing down at me. He can’t see the others down here from where he’s standing, but he knows they’re here. He escorted each of them in one at a time and cautioned them to refrain from “sinful practices”, but he knows what these sorts of meetings are about. I even invited him to join us in overthrowing my brother, knowing how it will affect the city he loves so dearly.

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