Page 9 of Mafia Queen

It wasn’t the list hidden inside the scar of Doe’s mutilated ear. That list contained the name of clients, people who fed Vadik’s empire of hell with their dirty money. I still hadn’t told her about the chip buried beneath her skin. Hopefully, I’d never have to.

I pulled on my gloves, my glare of hate fully focused on the demon in front of me. “I hope you don’t have any plans, cousin. This is going to be a long-ass night.”

“You know, I’m one sick son of a bitch, yet I don’t fully agree with the murderous rampage you’re on. But with this one, I’d like a piece of his flesh as well.” Lucio grinned like one evil motherfucker, cracking his knuckles, the veins beneath his inked skin already bulged with adrenaline.

I cocked a brow at him. “Having double standards, cousin?”

“Nope. Just like skinning perverts who get off by torturing kids.”

I slapped him on his shoulder. “Well, then, let’s have some fun.”

Lucio smiled then called out, “Mr. Watson, how’s it hanging?”

“Really?” I frowned at him, and he shrugged.

“Amateur,” I mumbled then walked up to the man who had been on my hit list ever since we discovered his identity. James Watson. Fifty-two years old. CEO of Watson Enterprises, oil magnate, self-proclaimed art collector, and family man. Family man, my fucking ass.

“James Watson.” I started to circle him hanging naked from a chain tied around his ankles. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Since his mouth was taped shut, he shook his head, his eyes wide with fear.

I reached out and ripped the tape off his face. “Talk.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

I shrugged then punched him in the gut, sending him swinging in the other direction. “Let’s be respectful, shall we?”

James cringed. “Respectful? Do you call hanging someone upside down, naked, respectful?”

“No, I call that the start of a long, painful, yet eventful night.”

“What do you want from me?”

I crouched down, bringing us eye to eye. “I don’t want anything from you.” I flicked out my blade and sliced it down his cheek. He cursed and tried to swing himself away from me, only to ram right into Lucio, who stood behind him.

I stood straight and watched as a drop of crimson fell on the ground. “I just want to see you bleed. But first, I have a story I want to tell you.”

James groaned and struggled as I slowly paced around him, flicking my blade. “Ten years ago, there was a girl who lived with her mom. They struggled to get by, but they were happy—the little girl was happy. But then one night, a very, very bad man had the little girl’s mother killed, leaving the little girl all alone. Yet”—I stopped then turned, pacing the other way around—“the very bad man pretended to be someone he’s not. He pretended to be an angel sent to rescue the girl.”

“What the fuck is this?” James blurted between his snot and tears.

With a quick, sharp jab, I stabbed my blade into his side, careful not to cut too deep. I didn’t want the fucker to die before dawn.

He screamed, then cried, then cursed.

“Do not interrupt me, Mr. Watson.”

Blood started to ooze from the wound in his side, and the sight of crimson was fucking beautiful.

“So,” I continued, “the man rescued the girl, and she finally felt safe. Loved. Protected. Until the man took her straight to the devil.” I crouched again, staring right at James’s contorted face. “Do you know who that devil was, Mr. Watson?”

He cried some more while shaking his head.

Slowly, like the theatrical bastard I was, I slid the steel of my blade from one side of his throat across to the other side. He shuddered, and I smiled. “That devil was…you.”

He wasn’t surprised at what I told him. Not at all. He did look confused as fuck, though.

“Do you know the name of the little girl, Mr. Watson? No?” I straightened. “Probably because she wasn’t the only one you took, sending her straight to hell. How many, Mr. Watson? How many girls did you sell into slavery?”

---