Page 103 of Never Say Never

"Benito found a few of the Triads."

"They're even guarding each other's shit?"

Enzo shrugged. "Won't matter. They pissed Benito off."

A skin-crawling scream echoed through the warehouse. It was one of many and it wouldn't be the last. As if to prove a point, another one bounced off the wall.

"Fucking Benito," Gin growled as he came around the corner. He sported red gloves that were covered in blood, twisting his hammer at his side. He had the same smile I had on my face like he was thriving in the blood and chaos. "Enzo, what's the score?"

Our younger brother pushed bloody hands through his hair. He only ever allowed the mess when he was waist deep in murder and torture. Some people would call us crazy, or as the FBI labeled us, monsters. But we were just brothers thriving in our environment. If we'd been soft and docile like so many people wanted, we wouldn't have risen to the top. No one was owed anything, no one in the world was guaranteed a piece of life. Those who took were the ones who truly lived. And the Vitales took whatever they pleased.

Another scream that shifted into a choking-gagging noise surrounded us. Benito was having a bit too much fun. I followed the noise and stopped in my tracks. Benito was covered from head to toe in blood and viscera. The guy he was working over barely looked human. One eye was a bloody mess, his fingers were gone and his legs were broken at odd angles.

Benito produced a knife from his ankle and dragged it across the guy's abdomen. His cries were feeble but there was no doubt he felt every inch of Benito's blade carving deep into his flesh. His cries died and his arms stopped flailing as Benito reached into his stomach, blood oozing out around his arm, and pulled out his intestines.

Too wrapped up in what Benito was doing, I hadn't noticed the guy still alive, slowly inching his way toward the exit. He wasn't going to make it, but it was a valiant effort. Benito waltzed over to him even as he scrambled to get purchase on the sticky floor.

"He won't," Gin said.

"He is," Enzo and I said in unison.

Benito took the intestines of the last guy and wrapped them around the remaining enemy's throat. The smell alone was gross but to be choked out by another man's intestines was just plain disrespectful. The look on Benito's face was one of pure bliss as he deprived the man of air. He begged for mercy with his eyes, choking sounds filling the air.

"Benito’s winning," Enzo finally answered.

"Come on, he cheated! If I'd known you were taking torture into consideration, I would have gotten a little more artsy with it," Gin whined.

I rubbed my shoulders attempting to ease the tight muscles. It had been a while since I went out cracking skulls with my brothers. "Shit, there is only so much you can do. Benito shouldn't count, he's?—"

"Fucked in the head. I keep telling him to stop shoving that shit down," Gin said.

"You think he said something?" I asked, pointing to the dead body missing his intestines.

Gin looked around and pointed to one of the men standing at the side. Their guns were out and ready to attack. He jogged over to us, keeping a healthy distance. His suit was practically clean compared to us who look like we bathed in blood.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Oh, um?—"

"Don't start that um shit or we'll play double dutch with your intestines next," Gin warned.

The guy audibly swallowed, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Stop fucking with him, Gin. What happened?"

"The boss asked him what their plan was and the guy right there mentioned they had plans to steal the boss's husband and pass him around after Qiang was done with him."

All three of us looked to Benito as he went back to the corpse and stomped its head in until there was nothing but mush. Benito’s foot stuck from the suction of his brains and caved in skull. Even then, our older brother lifted his foot with the head still attached and slammed it down repeatedly.

"All right, he won," Gin grumbled. "I don't like admitting defeat, but he's lost it."

That was the understatement. I nodded for our man to head back to guard. He got the jist and ran for the hills. I couldn't blame him. Most of them had heard stories and had even seen evidence of what we were capable of, but it had been years since we'd turned the streets of New York into a river of blood.

Benito dropped his victim and one of the guys ran over to him with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. Our brother took a long drag before he stepped away from the pile of corpses on the ground. "Get this shit cleaned up."

"Yes, sir."

He smiled like he'd had the best orgasm of a lifetime, or in Benito's case, relieved years worth of stress in one night.

"Are you done already?" I asked.