Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70928 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
It will be better for Mom and Dad. I hate how they worry about me.
I’ll do it slowly so no one notices.
Chapter 6
Christiano
As I walk into the warehouse at the crack of dawn, my thoughts are inundated with what happened at the wedding.
I tried to call Sienna several times, but she wouldn’t answer or return any of my messages. I gave up last night and contacted Aunt Samantha, who said there’s nothing to worry about and that Sienna ate something bad, but she’s doing better.
Just like when Sienna broke off things with me, I once again get the feeling Aunt Samantha and Sienna are hiding something very important from me.
Glancing at Nico, I order, “Have Ciro watch Sienna. I want him to update me on her movements every day, and he’s not to tell anyone. It stays between the three of us.”
“Okay.”
While Nico makes the call to Ciro, I walk toward the crates that Georgi delivered late last night. Trusting him not to fuck me over, I don’t even bother checking whether the order is correct. I grab a submachine gun and load a magazine into it.
Hugo, who’s my best enforcer, took his team and rounded up fourteen Irish soldiers over the past few days.
The fuckers are standing in a group at the other end of the warehouse, and as I stalk toward them, there’s only the constant rage in my chest.
After Sienna broke up with me, I used to get a kick out of killing, but these days it barely eases my anger.
Every time Sienna rejects me, it pushes me closer to the edge. The endless worry, frustration, and longing for her are the only other things I feel.
Christ, the longing. It’s fucking killing me.
When I reach the group of soldiers, I take a good look at each man. Some are scared, giving me the impression they might’ve joined the organization recently, while the few seasoned ones are tense and ready for a fight.
Even though I’ve been busy with this war for so many years, there are always new men joining the Irish mafia. That’s what makes it so difficult for law enforcement to take down a crime syndicate.
“The crates behind me contain weapons,” I say loud enough for everyone to hear. “If you can get past me and reach the crates, you can help yourself to a weapon and attempt to fight your way out of here.”
It’s one of my favorite games, but I don’t get to play often because it’s no small feat rounding up so many soldiers. I have to remember to give Hugo and his team bonuses for a job well done.
The Irish fuckers’ expressions alternate between looking confused and suspicious.
Lifting my arm, I signal for my guards to clear out. Only Nico hangs back, taking up a position by the door where he lights a cigarette.
One of the Irish soldiers steps forward and asks, “That’s it? If we make it past you, we get to walk out of here?”
I nod. “You have my word.” I hold the submachine gun ready and impatiently snap, “Get going!”
Wasting time, they glance at each other, and to motivate the fuckers, I shoot one of them. They scatter across the concrete floor, and keeping track of the remaining thirteen, I begin to pick them off.
The bodies drop fast, and as the bastard who asked the question comes right at me, the other remaining man makes it to a crate.
I notice Nico taking a deep drag of his cigarette, still leaning against the doorjamb.
As the man who asked the question slams his shoulder into my chest, lifting me off the floor, I aim at the other one by the crates. Just as he fires his weapon, I take him down with two shots.
I feel his bullet burn across the side of my neck, then I go down as the only remaining bastard slams me hard into the concrete floor.
Air explodes from my lungs. His fist connects with my face, and as he begins to deliver punch after punch, my bloody lips curve into a smile.
I let him have his way, the pain he’s inflicting on me easing the relentless heartbreak eating away at my soul.
This is the only way I can get some relief.
When the skin splits by my right eyebrow, I’ve had enough. Growling, I wrestle him onto his back before I repay the favor.
The skin over my knuckles splits open, and the warmth of his blood coats my hand as I beat him. My heartbeat speeds up a little when he gets more punches in, and I actually appreciate the effort he’s putting in to stay alive.
But not enough to spare him.
Maybe it’s something I’d consider if I had Sienna to keep me grounded, but that’s not the case.
As his blood flows and his bones break, the darkness takes over, and roaring, I shove my thumbs into his eyes.