Filed to story: Bound by Honor (Aria & Luca) Drama Story
I smiled down at the sniveling man on the ground as he watched me like I was the devil. “So you took those pictures?” I asked in a low growl as I knelt down beside the man, unsheathing my knife from my chest holster. I removed the tape so he could talk, but more than that: so I could hear his screams.
He eyed the blade with open horror. “Please! I only did what I was paid to do. I didn’t mean any harm.”
My smile widened. This was who I was destined to be. Brutal. Cruel. Merciless. Not the fucking emotional mess Aria turned me into.
Most of the time I let Matteo handle the torture because he was a master at it. He loved to play with his victims. I preferred the kill. Not today. Orazio and Matteo stood back as I dealt with the photographer. He’d long revealed his last secret when I plunged my knife into his fucking heart and granted him death. For a long time, there was silence after that as I tried to get a handle on my fury.
Dante had let the photographer take those photos and had sent them to me because he knew Aria was my fucking weakness. He’d hoped I’d lose my shit, had hoped I’d go on a rampage, maybe even attack Chicago. I wasn’t sure.
Orazio cleared his throat. “I also found out yesterday that Gottardo and Ermano contacted Dante a few weeks ago to help him throw you over. Dante was wary of them, thought it was a trap, but in our meeting yesterday Scuderi encouraged him to trust in them.”
“Gottardo and fucking Ermano. Those fucking bastards,” I hissed, focusing on them instead of the fact that Dante fucking Cavallaro had tried to make me believe Aria had an affair with him. Fuck him!
Love, a fucking weakness!
Matteo watched me cautiously as if he thought I’d snap Orazio’s or his neck just to kill something. “At least it’s only them and a couple of low soldiers. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Oh we will handle them,” I said. “I wish I hadn’t given Gottardo a quick death.”
“You crushed his throat, Luca. There are nicer ways to die,” Matteo said. Orazio’s eyebrows rose in mild curiosity.
“Nicer than what Ermano will get.”
“For sure,” Matteo said.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll return to Chicago before someone notices I’m gone,” Orazio said. I gave him a quick nod. He exchanged a few more words with Matteo before he drove off.
Matteo stepped up to my side. “So Aria didn’t cheat.”
“We should attack tonight. I want to weed out the root of our problem as soon as possible. The family is full of traitors, I always knew Gottardo was one. And now Ermano too. Those two were always thick.”
Matteo scowled. “Luca, did you hear what I said?”
I got into his face. “Stay out of my marriage, Matteo, and you’d better make sure your own wife doesn’t turn you into a fucking fool.”
Matteo didn’t say anything, and it was for the best because I was out for blood again.
That night, Romero, Matteo and I attacked Ermano’s holiday house in the Hamptons. Ermano was supposed to return to Atlanta in the morning. He would never return. Orfeo and Demetrio were on their way to capture Gottardo’s other legitimate son. I knew Demetrio would have no trouble handling his half-brother. No love was wasted between those two.
I killed Ermano’s first soldier with a twist of his neck before he could call out a warning, Matteo took down the second with his knife. Not waiting to see if Romero had disabled the third, I raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. A door to my right opened, and I slashed my knife toward the person and arched up in the last second, impaling the blade a couple of inches above the head of a young girl. Her mouth opened for a cry and I clamped my hand down on her lips. She struggled as my arm wrapped around her waist. She fought hard as I leaned down to her ear. “Not a sound. Nothing will happen to you, Kiara.” Her eyes flickered with recognition. “Where is your father?”
My cousin pointed toward the door at the end of the corridor, her upper arms littered with bruises. I released her and she looked at me with huge eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. My eyes took in the bruises on her collarbones and her swollen cheek. Ermano was my father’s brother through and through.
Matteo ran toward me and I pushed Kiara toward him, then crept toward the door she had indicated. She hadn’t lied. She had no reason to. Before I could open the door, someone else did. His wife stood before me. Ermano must have sent her to investigate the noise. Fucking coward.
I shoved her to the side and barely managed to avoid a bullet. Ermano was hiding behind the massive bed and firing at me. A heavy thud sounded a second before I flung myself to the ground and pulled my own gun. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his wife on the ground, bleeding from a wound in her head. Ermano had shot his own wife by accident, or perhaps on purpose-who knew what went on in the crazy fucker’s head? I wouldn’t shoot him. That would be too quick.
Matteo crouched in the corridor, and motioned for me to stay down.
I crawled closer to the bed.
“What do you want?” Ermano screamed.
“Come out, then you’ll get a quick death,” Matteo shouted. As if that was going to happen. I’d tear him apart piece by piece, muscle, bone and skin.
I crawled even closer to the bed. I could see Ermano’s knees through the gap under the bed. I aimed toward his right kneecap and fired. His piercing scream was music to my ears. I pushed off the ground and was beside my uncle in two large steps, gripping him by the throat and lifting him until we were eye level.
“You can kiss that quick death goodbye, Uncle,” I snarled.
Two hours later, Matteo and I left the mansion. Romero would deal with the cleaning brigade. When we approached Matteo’s Porsche Cayenne, a disheveled brown head poked up from the backseat.
“Fuck,” Matteo muttered. “I forgot about Kiara.”
I rubbed a hand over my head. “How old is she?”
“I have no clue. We have too many cousins. Twelve?”
Sighing, I opened the back door and leaned in. Kiara flinched away from me and pulled her legs up against her chest. “How old are you?” I asked her in as civil a tone as I could manage after chopping her father into pieces.
She watched me like I was going to kill her.
I scanned Kiara’s face closely, trying to remember. “Twelve?”