Page 56 of And Twice as Twisted
“Doesn’t take much pressure to slice through the risorius and buccinator muscles in the cheek. Then you’ll never be able to spit again.” Another kick to his face stained my leather shoes red. “A future of drooling and groaning, unable to communicate.” I pinched the muscles in question between my fingers, straddling him when I saw the puddle he produced. “There, there.” I went to pat his head, stopping at the excessive release of sweat from his eccrine glands. “Who sent you?”
“I-I can’t.” His shrill voice was like nails on a chalkboard.
“Can’tinsinuates you’re unable. You are, in fact, able. Just unwilling. However, I can change that. And I do promise youwon’t like it.” When he didn’t answer, I sat back on my haunches. “As you wish.”
I stepped to his partner, who was still sprawled beneath Al, the bastard’s eyes wide with fear. It was so sad really. They were nobodies, hired for a simple snatch and grab. They wore cheap suits and used too much hair gel. They were attempting to work their way up in an organization that didn’t prepare them accordingly.
I lifted my gun, the sound echoing across the marble floors as the bullet tore a hole through his partner’s head.
“Are you ready?” I ripped my knife from his hand, dropping to his level as he blabbered with a mixture of snot and tears. “Now, tell me.”
“It-it… doesn’t matter! I’m already dead!” His good hand was too slow as he struggled to draw his Glock from his back.
“Do it,” I challenged, wanting him to have the courage to be a man once in his miserable excuse for a life.
Instead, he raised it in one shaky swoop, pressing the barrel to his throat. But his angle and the bullet trajectory were all wrong as he pulled the trigger. The projectile tore through the omohyoid muscle in his neck, his jugular detaching as he slowly bled out. I watched with a detached fascination as the life drained from his eyes until his body stopped twitching.
“I’ll be damned…”
I turned to Al, my eyes dropping to the wallet in his hand.
“He’s from Philly.”
I stared at Al in confusion, his expression mirroring my own. Either this was a threat against us or an attempt to steal Sienna for himself. Each possibility was just as likely and would be Romano’s undoing.
I stepped to the window and stared out at the city that I called home. The calamity of the mafia was hidden amongst the common people who littered the sidewalks. We were aprosperous organization that did what it had to, to earn a profit and protect the streets that belonged to us. Now we had a new threat.
Romano Bianchi wanted to take what didn’t belong to him. But he’d never live to tell the tale.
Chapter 19
SIENNA AGOSTINO
Someone help me! Please! I didn’t want to do it, but he’d never stop! I knew if I didn’t kill him, he’d hunt me down until he took everything from me.
Didn’t he already do that?
My knees sank into the mud as the rain poured onto my back, my head, and my hands as I listened to Bella’s agonized wails. I’d killed her brother, but not before he destroyed several parts of me.
I took a chance and looked around at the people closest to me. My brother stared at the body with a sort of detachment while holding his wife. Apollo seemed unbothered, if not annoyed, knowing this was his mess to clean up. He ran a tender hand down Bella’s back, ignoring me as I clutched my stomach. As the endorphins from the attack started to wear off, the pain between my legs was becoming unbearable. I did my best to block it out as I climbed to my feet and gripped the jacket draped across my shoulders.
“Bella,” I tried, but she turned into Lucky’s embrace.
“Sienna, please.” My brother eyed me with concern, but I could tell it was for his wife. Not me.
I was hunched forward, an arm bracing my lower stomach as I fought the looming nausea. I didn’t want Gio dead, but didn’t they see that it had to be done? They played so many games, for so long, with so many people; where as I had made the correct decision for myself, but could feel their animosity slapping me in the face.
“Did you tell him no?” Apollo’s question forced me to look at him. “If we didn’t show up, would you have killed him? Or would you have ruled at his side?”
I didn’t think. I didn’t feel. I just reacted. I lifted my palm and slapped him across the face with everything I had. “How dare you?” My scream bounced around us. “You all did this to me! Because of you, each and every single one of you, I’ll never be the same!”
“Fuck.” I sat straight up in my bed, staring at the new space I called home in confusion. “Still?” I questioned as I threw the blanket off. The nightmares came randomly, even after all these months.
Going on years…
Their looks of pity, sometimes hate, haunted my subconsciousness and I couldn’t seem to shake them. My mind was conjuring conversations with Apollo that hadn’t even happened.
I felt like a zombie wandering down the stairs in search of coffee. It was a sad confession that my body was feeling the effects from the sleepless nights and debilitating dreams. I was either highly caffeinated or in a coma. There was no between.
