Page 106 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“Don’t worry. They all break eventually.” Cosimo held up a pair of shears in his black-gloved hand, snipping them for effect. “Ready for something a little more fun?”

“Sure.” I tipped my head in our uncle’s direction, and Cosimo began cutting the black tactical gear from his body.

“I hope this isn’t designer,” he quipped as he worked through the material. “It would be a shame to ruin something of value.”

Giuseppe screamed suddenly, and we all looked to Cosimo, who lifted his shoulders and widened his eyes with feigned innocence. “Oops, I slipped. You didn’t need that nipple, did you?”

Blood trailed from where my uncle’s nipple used to be. It was a start.

Cosimo finished baring our uncle’s chest and tossed the sliced fabric to the floor. “Good enough for now. When his blood soaks his pants, we’ll cut them off.”

“That’s an interesting marker,” I said, swiping a black bag from the table and thinking about what I would do next.

“It helps me pace myself,” he said. “Otherwise, the fun is over too soon.”

Giuseppe had the sense to look concerned when Cosimo’s eyes glazed over for a moment, staring blankly at the wall until Niccolò tapped him on the shoulder. He flinched, then shrugged it off. That shit was creepy, no matter how many times I saw it.

Some might say we lost my brother a little more every time he spaced out and took his twisted rage out on his victims. No, not victims. The people he tortured always deserved their punishment. Prisoners. Toys, perhaps.

Was it really losing somebody if their nature was truly that terrifying?

I would always love Cosimo, but he earned my respect for learning to control the monster within and channel it into something that would benefit the family. The world saw a cold-blooded killer. To me, he was my big brother.

I slipped the hood over Giuseppe’s face, so I wouldn’t have to see him glare anymore. Then I reached for the cattle prod. Riona would worry if I came home with all my knuckles split. Electricity crackled, and my uncle yelped when I pressed the tip of the prod to his ribs, then to the other side.

“Make him dance, Romeo.” Cosimo’s grin was almost gleeful. Dante rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop me.

It became my goal to see how quickly I could strike with the cattle prod, making Giuseppe flinch and moan, wavering on his toes. Eventually, he began to tire, his aging body unable to withstand torture as well as a younger, fitter man. Everybody in the family knew how to resist the very tactics I used, but I knew that even the best of us had a breaking point.

Giuseppe was far from the best.

He’s spent his life riding the coattails of his older brother’s success, happy to do the dirty work as long as his lifestyle was comfortable. His home was as ostentatious as our father’s, but he had half the authority. He was like a prince trying to be a king when he wasn’t in the line of succession. His attempt to rebel against my father hadn’t gone to plan.

Now he was exactly where rabid dogs who turned on their owners belonged—away from society. Put out of his misery. Only I hoped he’d rot in hell when we put him down.

I thrust the prod at Giuseppe’s body a final time, aiming for that bloody hole in his chest. He yelled around his gag, and I smiled.

“You know, Cos,” I said casually, setting the implement back on the table. “We should probably help him out.”

My brother narrowed his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“It wouldn’t be humane to leave him with a bleeding wound.” I pointed to the missing nipple. “We should cauterize it.”

Cosimo returned my smile and picked up one of his many knives. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Dante griped. “Do you know how bad burning flesh smells?”

“Justice always smells sweet, Dante.” Cosimo lit a propane torch and held the blade's tip up to the flame. We all watched as the metal turned red in less than a minute. He nodded at me. “You want to do the honors?”

“Yeah.” Carefully, I took the handle, avoiding the hot metal, and waited for Niccolò and Cosimo to immobilize Giuseppe. I let the blade hover over his broken skin and watched as he tried to wriggle away from the heat. It was futile. I pressed the tip of the knife to the wound, and I could swear I heard his teeth crack as he screeched through his clenched jaw. The smell made me nauseous instantly, but I swallowed and breathed out of the side of my mouth, watching the flesh bubble and turn black.

It certainly wasn’t the correct way to use cautery, but it was fucking satisfying.

“I’ll take that.” Cosimo held his hand out, and I let him wrap the hot metal in a damp cloth. Briefly, I wondered how you cleaned charred flesh from a blade.

“What should we do next?” I wondered aloud, ready to take things further.

“A bat?” Dante suggested, swinging the wood in his hands as he circled Giuseppe. I’d been so caught up in punishing our uncle that I didn’t think about the others wanting a turn with him. “We should get our hits in before father arrives.”

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