Page 48 of Depraved
He stares at me and shakes his head. I have to give it to this dick—he’s loyal. A trait my first Frank could’ve used.
“Frank…I can call you Frank, right?” Vin comes up next to me, handing me a cloth for my shoe, but I pocket it. “See, the way I see it is you’re too scared to rat on whoever sent you. And I admire that. I do. But that means my only option is to be scarier than whatever’s back home.”
“I’m not telling you nothing,” he slurs in a deep accent. A familiar one.
“That’s interesting. That’s two now with that accent…fucking Boston. What’s with you pricks?” I push, and he lunges for me in his chains.
I let out a deep laugh, stepping back quickly with my arms spread wide. “There’s the spirit, Frank.” My voice booms through the space as I begin to feed off his anger, clapping my hands together and coming face-to-face with him. “Tell me who you really work for! Cuz it ain’t the dicks she’s related to.”
Frank sneers, his teeth showing the blood left in his mouth.That’s right. Give me a fucking reason to beat it out of you.
“You can’t protect that whore. He’ll get his queen back. Even if he has to go through you. She’ll go back to where she belongs, and when she does, she’ll hurt real bad. But after six or seven of us, she’ll get used to it or die trying.”
My vision dims, my mind going blank as heat suffocates any and all reason. I act out of instinct. Primal fucking brutality. I’m not inside my mind even though I’m guiding my body.
I hear the screams, his wails, faint at first, then gaining in volume as my mind catches up, zooming me into focus. The smell of burning flesh engulfs my senses, and my knuckles burn from the strength of my grip on the back of his hair. It’s so hard that I can feel tiny strands breaking free.
I’m holding Frank in place with my cigar pressed into his eye.
His pain swallows the silence as I press harder, but I can hear the small sizzle that fills the space. The cigar crumbles, breaking against my strength, and I mash it into his face.
When I step back, my chest is heaving. I’m unhinged. Pure evil. A fallen angel with a singular purpose.
“Nobody touches her. You hear that? Nobody!” I bellow, slapping his face.
I run my hand over my head, pleased as I watch him writhe in pain.
“You’ll be the message. You’re going to show them that anyone who steps foot in my fucking city leaves in a goddamn body bag if they try to come for what’s mine.”
Rage courses through my veins like a life source. It pumps through my body like a drug, giving me focus and power. I step in quickly, bringing down a swift hook to his jaw, hearing it crack under the pressure.
“She’smine. You wanna fucking steal from me, you piece of shit?” I growl as I hit him again even harder, hearing another crack. “Who the fuck is gonna go through me? Nobody.”
The sound is intoxicating, and I look at the ceiling, taking in gulps of air. I’ll never let anyone hurt her.
I keep hitting him, again and again, his head swinging with every blow. Grunts and spit fly from my mouth as I unleash my rage on him, unstopping and unrelenting. His head hangs down, dangling after each assault, making me adjust my stance until his legs finally give. He’s unconscious, maybe dead.
But I don’t stop, swinging into the air and stumbling backward as his body swings away from me.
“Dante. It’s done… Stop. It’s done,” Antonio whispers, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me.
I lunge forward, but the guys hold me back, keeping me in place. I stand, breathing heavy and in a haze, staring at the body, knowing I’ve killed him. Good fucking riddance.
“Come. Come…we’ll take care of it,” Vincenzo coaxes, pulling me backward.
Antonio’s holding out my jacket for me to put on, but I reach into my slacks pocket, pull out the cloth I’d shoved in there earlier, and wipe my hands. Blood stains the rag as it removes the evidence of my indiscretion.
I fold it and lift a clean part to my face to wipe away some blood spatter that’s hit my cheek and look at the guys. “Burn the body. But make sure he’s found. I’m going to speak to our princess about who the fuck her family really is. Because the one thing I know is Sarah’s been lying to me. To us.”
I tug on my suit jacket, my breath still labored, and my head tips down. I see the spit still on my shoe. Grabbing my coat, I pull it on as I walk back to Frank’s dead, hanging body.
Reaching out, my hand steadies his limp body as I wipe the shoe he spat on over his pant leg.
“Save me a spot, Frank, because it won’t really be hell until I arrive.”
I turn and walk past the guys, and straight out of the building.
The moment the freezing air hits my lungs, I feel refocused, awake, pulled from my haze. Running my hands over my face, I stand and let my breathing steady, feeling calmer with each moment that passes.
