God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

My body jerks as I regain consciousness. My shoulders strain, and rope bites into my wrists as I jerk again from being hauled into the air.

A headache starts to pulse behind my temple, and when I crack my eyes open, I see a concrete floor beneath me.

Shit.

The memories of the attack pour through my mind.

I remember the mansion shuddering from loud blasts.

Gerardo falling.

Aunt Greta gasping for air.

Aunt Greta.

Dio, I hope she survives the gunshot.

I lift my head, and seeing two men in a room with me, horror ripples through me.

One of them secures the rope so it will keep me hanging in the air.

My shoes are gone, and the pencil dress I’m wearing is pulled up high on my thighs.

Shit.

“She’s awake,” one of the men mutters. “Get the boss.”

Boss?

My mind starts racing, flashes of the attack hitting me while I worry about what’s going to happen.

I hope Mamma’s okay.

Maybe Damiano found out about the attack, and he got to her in time.

Damiano.

Suddenly, Stefano walks into the room, and my heart almost stops beating.

It was his voice I heard over the radio. Dio.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

He stops a couple of feet away from me and just stares me up and down. Then, a smile slowly spreads over his face.

“Mrs. Falco,” he sneers. “When did you get married?”

I lift my chin and lock eyes with him. “Yesterday.”

One of his eyebrows lifts. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”

“You weren’t invited,” I bite the words out through clenched teeth.

I can’t believe he attacked us.

“Why?” I demand.

“Why not,” he chuckles. “Damiano’s not the only one with Falco blood in his veins.” His features tighten with anger. “I’m older. I’ve watched him run the Cosa Nostra for far too long. It’s my birthright to sit at the head of the table.”

I shake my head. “Damiano’s the Capo dei Capi.”

“Not for long,” Stefano hisses. “Once he’s dead, I’ll take over.”

What reality does this man live in?

“The other four heads won’t allow it,” I argue.

Stefano steps closer to me until I feel his breath on my face. “They’ll have no fucking choice but to follow me once I kill Damiano.”

Dio. Is he insane?

We no longer live in the eighties where you can kill the Capo dei Capi and take over the family.

I’ve seen how close the five heads are.

“Good luck,” I mutter. “You’re going to need it.”

He lets out a chuckle. “No, Gabriella, you’re going to need it.”

Shit.

He signals something to his men, and I watch as they bring a camera closer. They set it down on a metal table, and a red light comes on.

No.

I start to strain against the ropes, but it only makes them cut deeper into my wrists.

Stefano turns to his men while ordering, “Filippo, take off her dress.”

NoNoNoNoNo!

As I begin to struggle again, my body swings, and one of the men grabs hold of me.

The man that Stefano called Filippo comes closer, and using scissors, he starts cutting my dress from the hem upward.

When I hear Stefano let out a bark of amused laughter, I force myself to stop fighting. Sucking in a deep breath, I find a spot on the wall to look at.

You will not cry.

You won’t beg.

You’re Damiano’s wife. Don’t give them anything.

The fabric is ripped off my body, and hanging in only my underwear, I keep repeating the words to myself.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

You’re Gabriella Falco. The wife of the Capo dei Capi.

They will not break you.

Stefano picks up an A4 piece of paper, and I get a glimpse of the words written on it before he walks closer to me.

Step down or she will die.

When Filippo picks up some kind of gun, horror pours through me, and I clench my jaw tighter.

Dio.

My breathing speeds up when Stefano pushes the piece of paper against my stomach.

Filippo presses the gun to the paper, and I brace myself for a lot of pain, but all I feel is a pinch as if I’m getting an injection.

I slowly let out a breath of relief.

“Send the recording to me,” Stefano orders before walking out of the room.

That’s it?

My eyes flit to Filippo, and I watch as he works on a laptop. The camera is still trained on me and recording.

With Stefano gone, I begin to feel the pain in my shoulders and wrists from hanging for so long.

Filippo nods at the other man who I forgot about, giving him a silent signal.

The men don’t taunt me or show any emotion, and for some reason, it worries me more.

What’s going to happen now?

I hear the man move in behind me, and suddenly, I feel an intense pain, and my body convulses violently. Every muscle locks into pace, cramping horribly.

The pain stops as quickly as it started, and I press my lips tightly together, staring at the wall again as I try to breathe through the shock of being electrocuted.

“Again,” Filippo orders.

Dio. No!

Whatever they’re using to shock me presses against my back, and my muscles instantly tighten, the pain spasming through me.

I’m unable to breathe, and on the fourth shock, an agonizing sound escapes my clenched teeth, and I instantly regret it because I don’t want to give these men anything.

“One more,” Filippo mutters.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

My body shakes violently as the electric currents zaps through me, and when it stops, it’s hard to lift my head as I suck in desperate breaths of air.

My mind is frazzled, and I struggle to process what just happened.

“Turn her around so her back is to the camera,” Filippo instructs.

When the bastard takes hold of my hips and turns me to face him, I manage to shoot a glare at him.

“Step down, Falco,” Filippo demands. “Or we will tear her apart.”

Damiano will never do that.

“Got the burns for the recording,” Filippo says. “You can let go of her.”

The other guy’s hands drop from me, and my body swings back into its original position.

Filippo works on the laptop, his features expressionless.

Dio, they’re going to torture me.

This won’t be a quick death.

My eyes find Filippo again, and with every ounce of strength I possess, I say, “Damiano will never submit.”

He shrugs as he keeps working. “For your sake, I hope he does.”

He won’t. Never.