Page 83 of Their Reckless Thief
“You’re a fucking coward,” I spat, pulling my tools from my jacket and laying them out neatly on the bedside table. A scalpel,a few blades, and a set of pliers. I took my time, letting him see each one, so he understood exactly what was coming.
“Celeste,” he croaked out. “This is about that bitch Celeste? She’s a fucking whore, Vincenzo. She’s?—”
I drove the scalpel into his side, stuffing a gag into his mouth at the same time to muffle his screams. “Say one more word about her, and I’ll make sure your death lastsdays.”
I started with small, careful cuts, tracing delicate lines along his ribs, his belly, the insides of his thighs. Each slice was deliberate, designed to inflict maximum pain without letting him bleed out too quickly. Though muffled, his screams were still loud enough to satisfy the dark part of me that had been begging for release ever since I found out what he’d done.
I took the pliers next, gripping the nail of his forefinger and pulling. The crunch of bone and the wet squelch of flesh separating filled the room as he convulsed in agony. “This is for every woman you hurt, every life you ruined. Consider it payback.”
Blood poured from his wounds, pooling on the sheets beneath him. His eyes rolled back in his head, his body twitched, but I wasn’t done. Not yet. I picked up a larger blade, one designed for deeper work, and pressed it to his collarbone.
“You think you’re so fucking powerful, don’t you?” I said in a conversational tone. “Think because you’ve got friends in high places, because you know the right people, no one can touch you. But here’s the thing, Roberto. None of that matters now. Not here. Not with me.”
His cries were becoming more frantic, desperate, like a trapped animal realizing its doom was inevitable. I relished every single sound he made, every shudder racking his broken body. I dug the blade in deeper, twisting until I heard a crack.
It was his eyes—the sheer, raw terror in them—that truly satisfied me.
“Is this what you did to them?” I asked, voice soft, almost tender. “Did you watch their faces while you broke them, piece by piece? Did you feel powerful?”
I drove another blade into his thigh, the thick muscle giving way beneath the steel, and he screamed so hard the veins on his neck bulged.
“Guess what?” I whispered, leaning close enough that he could feel the heat of my breath against his ear. “There’s no one coming to save you. No one to make a deal with. You’re all mine.”
The hours dragged on, and I lost myself in the slow, methodical dismantling of the man who had caused so much pain. He thrashed, he begged, but the ropes held firm, and I was relentless.
By the time I was done, Roberto was nothing more than a ruined heap, his body twisted in ways that nature never intended. His eyes were open and unseeing, the life long gone. I waited, watching the last flicker of consciousness drain from him, my hands soaked in his blood.
I stood back, taking in the destruction I’d wrought. Satisfaction coursed through me like a drug, but it was a hollow sort of victory. The rage hadn’t left; it was merely sated, a beast curled up in the corner of my mind, waiting to be fed again.
I pulled out my phone and dialed my cleanup crew.
“I’ve got a mess that needs cleaning up,” I said, my voice steady despite the blood still dripping from my hands.
“Where?” he asked, no questions, no judgment. All business.
I gave him the address and hung up.
Game over, Roberto. You never stood a fucking chance.
25
VINCENZO
The night airwas cool against my skin as I made my way toward one of my clubs, the adrenaline from earlier still coursing through my veins. Torturing Roberto had been satisfying and had sharpened my focus. The tension in me hadn’t dissipated. It lingered, simmering just beneath the surface, and I needed to do something about the problem that kept gnawing at the back of my mind.
Earlier today, one of my men had informed me that another woman had gone missing. Another one of my women. It was unacceptable.
I opened the heavy door of the club, and the muffled thrum of music hit me like a physical force. Purple and red neon lights flashed in time with the pulsing beat, bodies moving together on the dance floor, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and the faint underlying scent of lust. The crowd, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked outside, danced and drank without a care.
I, however, did care.
My men were scattered throughout the room, blending in with the patrons to keep a close eye on things. I’d had them watching this place for weeks, and despite every safeguard I’d put in place, despite every warning I’d issued to themanagement, women were still vanishing without a trace. No one had seen a damn thing.
How the hell was that possible?
As I moved through the club, recognition rippled through the crowd. Eyes followed me as I walked, whispers passed between groups of people, but I ignored them. I was here for answers, and I was done waiting for them.
I strode to a corner booth at the back. From there, I’d have a perfect view of the entire club. I slid into the booth, leaning back into the plush leather seat as I surveyed the room.
