Page 3 of His Wicked Obsession
The voice begins again, never really stopping. Slamming my hands over my ears, I attempt to block it out, to stifle its sound, but nothing works. Not ever. But I must try because the alternative is to go insane.
“Father Cassio was right; you are a filthy sinner. You deserve to be in hell. This is your penance,” it hisses, echoing in all corners of my mind.
“No, no, no, no!” I scream. Father Cassio is dead. He was the evil man. He was the sinner. I’m an innocent in all these foolish games.
“Bella?” A familiar voice, but I can’t trust anything I hear. “Bella, what’s happening?” It’s closer now, deep, comforting, and warm. It sounds like Lude, but I won’t be tricked. Not again. Not after I heard Papa’s voice.
Hands on my shoulders cause me to jerk away, letting out a god-awful screech. “Bella!” he snaps, dragging my head up to look at him. “What has happened to you?”
He’s really here, right in front of me, concern etched on his handsome features. “Lude? Is it really you?”
His eyes search mine before he nods. “It’s me, Bella. What’s happened?” Swallowing roughly, I try to find my voice but can’t think straight. I realize I must look a mess to him, sitting in the corner of a darkened room, arguing with a voice no one else hears.
Throwing myself in his arms, I openly sob as he drops back onto the floor, cradling my shaking body in his embrace and allowing me a moment to get myself together.
“I’ll take care of you, darling.” I explode out of his arms at that word, running through the house and into the storm brewing outside, fear propelling my body forward until I’m unable to see or hear anything around me. Lost in the countryside and hidden by the rain, I wish I were free.
CHAPTER 2
Donato
Anger pulses through my veins as harshly as the blood pumping through my heart while I stare down at the man on the floor at my feet. This man, this slimy piece of shit, thought he could take me out and get away with it.
“Who do you work for?” I ask again. I have many enemies, more so since coming home and helping clean up the streets of Palermo. When Domino took out the head of the police to save Nicola, he opened a can of worms that had the filthiest motherfuckers slinking out of the shadows, hoping to lay claim to my home.
“More blood,” Pace interjects, sounding bored. I’m certain he is. I haven’t allowed him to touch the man since we came out to the slaughter barn. Construction on the rest of the farm is going well in creating an oasis for the family, but the barn remains intact and will continue to do so.
“String him up,” I tell my brother.
The clanking of chains rings out through the structure as he pulls the man up from where he’s bound at the wrists and ties the end off. He hangs from the rafters like this, his toes barely touching the stained floor beneath. He has no traction, no way out. His life will end here today. How long that takes is up to him.
“Let’s go with something easier, then. What’s your name?” Crossing my arms, my biceps bulge and flex with the movement. While my oldest brother, Maso, is the biggest of us, Pace and I can give him a run for his money.
The man gulps loudly, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. Fear etches every line of his face, piss stains run down his legs, darkening his pants, but still, he doesn’t talk.
“Toss me that emasculatome.” I nod behind Pace, and his grin becomes gleeful. Keeping my eyes on my victim, his paling face and whimpering noises send a thrill up my spine.
Until I’d tortured my first man a few years ago, I’d never known how cathartic it could feel. How much I’d enjoy it.
Pace snaps the tool open and closed a few times, the chains rattling with his fear, and with him unable to touch the ground, there’s no way for him to escape.
“What is that?” He swallows nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“He speaks.” Turning the tool over in my hand, I explain, “This used to be a slaughterhouse, then it became a castration site. And in recent years, it’s been used as a rustic torture house. Gives off those vibes, doesn’t it?” My gaze roams the walls, taking in all the archaic devices left behind. “This was how animals were castrated.” I hold the tool up for him to see. “I’m giving you until your pants hit the floor to tell me what I want to know, or your balls will literally be blue.”
Pace reaches around him from behind, a knife in his hand as he slices through the belt, then button, and slowly drags the zipper down. And just as he’s about to drop the stranger’s pants, the man screams, “Wait!” Pace lets the pants fall as his breathing intensifies. “I work for Peeta Ambrose.” Alarm bells ring in my ears at the name I haven’t heard since we moved back to Sicily from New York. Maso and I helped take down his human trafficking ring through Canada. He lost billions and is on trial now. But he’s been in Rikers since his arrest.
“What does he want?” I ask, keeping a bored tone to my voice despite the coldness that’s entered my heart. If he’s initiating contact now, that means he’s about to make a move against me. He was unaware of Maso’s involvement, so I can only hope he’ll leave my brother alone.
“I was supposed to deliver a message,” he pants, unable to focus as I keep tossing the emasculatome from hand to hand, itching to cause him irreparable damage.
His knife nearly entered my back when he attacked me from behind. If Pace hadn’t been with me, I’d be the one bleeding out right now.
“And that was…?” I roll my hand, waiting for him to spell it out.
“He’s coming for you and everything you hold dear. Everyone you love will die by his hand.” Pace’s eyes meet mine, the only emotion present is rage because he’s taking this as a threat against his heavily pregnant wife.
“You’ll die first.” I grin as I whip out my blade and plunge it into his belly, dragging it up until his guts spill out. His eyes widen in shock and pain as they slowly travel down to find his entrails dropping on the floor. Blood spills in a river of red, covering the floor and my boots.