Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“Fuck you.”

I kick his hands away from his stomach and I press down on his gunshot wound with my foot. Screams tear through the distant rat-tat-at of gunfire outside.

I would kill him, but I need to save every round for Sal.

Blood spurts from his mouth, and then I know he isn’t long for this world anyway. Better to let the fucking prick die a slow death.

I step over his body, eyes scanning the deserted club. Where the fuck is he? I look through windows, and then I see shadows in the president’s office. Vito and Tim stand outside as sentries.

Bingo.

They’re Sal’s men.

I suck in breath as I raise my gun, visualizing the attack in my head. Two shots in quick succession. My chest deflates as I exhale. Shots ring out in the clubhouse-too fast for them to react. They slump down dead as red paints the walls behind them.

I make a beeline for the door and wipe my palms on my slacks, sucking in air. Aim and fire. Do it quickly. Don’t hesitate. She’s too important.

I kick open the door, and her scream sends a frenzy through my system. Beatrice is thrust in front of me, that fat fuck hiding behind her like a coward.

“I’ll fucking kill her. Not another step.”

He grabs her hair like a ponytail and yanks her backward so that she sits on his lap, his pistol buried in her neck.

“Jack!”

Christ, I can’t bear the sound of her crying, so I force myself to look into that rat bastard’s eyes.

My gun hovers, trembling. “Why?”

For years I depended on him. Trusted him. He was like a second father to me-a guy who always had my back. Why would he betray everything he had built with me?

“Why what?”

“Why did you kill him? He was my brother. Everyone loved him.”

Sal looks back at me, his face infused with rage. “I needed to create a reason for you to hate Johnny. It was nothing personal.”

Nothing personal.

There’s nothing but detachment in his voice. Just business. No big deal.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

I almost fire a bullet into his fucking brain right then. “You ruined my life.”

“Jack, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Your brother was paralyzed-he didn’t even want to live. The guys who did it said he didn’t even struggle-”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

His round face wrinkles as he adopts a stricken tone. “I needed Johnny to go. Look at what he’s done to this family. He made peace with these fucking savages after what they did to your brother. He’s weak.”

I’m still putting it together, seething with rage. I have to find out every detail. I need to know the depths of his treachery.

“You tried to have me killed at that arms deal, didn’t you?” I recall how they aimed at me and fired.

“They weren’t supposed to touch you. I just wanted to start a war to pull John in different directions.”

A vicious hatred churns in my guts. “Then you had them come after my wife.”

He shrugs remorselessly. “I needed to give your ass a kick to go after John.”

And it worked.

“You are one sick son of a bitch. When I get my hands on you-”

Beatrice cries out as he digs the metal into her flesh. “Put the gun down. I’ll pull the trigger right now. There’s nothing stopping me.”

“It’s over. You lost.”

For the first time, Sal looks angry. His face burns a deep red. “Not yet!”

“I just put a bullet in the new president’s stomach.”

“Miserable cocksucker!” He grips her neck and she makes a sputtering sound. “Have you any fucking idea what I would have done for the family? You would’ve been promoted-I was going to make you underboss!”

“Like I give a fuck about being your lapdog. You’re just a fucking snake, too cowardly to get rid of John yourself.”

Beatrice’s hands roll something in the waistband of her jeans, and I see a glint of silver.

No, don’t!

Her blue eyes blaze at me.

“Put the fucking gun down!”

I splay my hands, lowering my body slowly as I let the gun dangle in my hand.

She screams, and Sal adjusts his grip on her neck to muffle the sound, but she twists in his arms.

“AH!”

The gun slips from her neck as she buries the switchblade in his belly. Bright red spills over her hand as she pulls out the knife and stabs him again and again. Shock paralyzes me for a moment.

Then I lunge at the arm holding the gun and it fires. The bullet lodges into a picture frame. Even though Sal’s got a fucking knife sticking out of his stomach, he’s still strong. Heavy blows smash across my jaw, but I dig my thumbs into his eyes until he screams. Beatrice holds my gun, aiming at him. I grab her skinny wrist and aim at his head.

“FUCK!”

One pull of the trigger cracks open Sal’s head. A dark-red stain paints the wall as he slides down to our feet, dead.

Jesus Christ.