The Mafia Contract Series

Two men are hanging from their arms, their bodies battered and bleeding from the cuts that decorate their skin like the most twisted work of art. Both are naked and hang limply without the usual thrashing of desperate men. It’s as if they have both accepted their fate and are waiting to die, and the stench of betrayal and revenge is making it hard to breathe.

“I thought you would enjoy this, Angelo.”Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

Franco lifts a knife from the table and tosses it between his hands before pointing it between the two men and grinning like the village idiot.

“We have here two traitors, one who seduced my virgin daughter and the fool that turned a blind eye. Father and son, heading to the afterlife in a blaze of revenge. I thought you may like to observe how the Rossi organization deals with traitors.”

I stare at the men swinging before me and the bile rises in my throat. One man’s crime was to fall in love and the others was to love too much. Both men degraded, humiliated and beaten for nothing more than a love story.

It’s why I push love away and do not let it darken my door, because this is what happens when you succumb to its temptation. It ruins lives and makes a strong man weak. Love destroys souls and I will not let it into my heart.

Franco looks up as the door opens and my heart sinks when I watch Alana leading her two daughters inside to watch the final breath of the men who dared to step out of line.

My eye is drawn to Jasmine, and I watch the fierce glow of hatred burning behind her eyes as she glares at her father, who says as if greeting invited guests, “Finally, everyone is here. We can begin.

Franco turns the knife in his hands and flicks his attention to his youngest daughter, who looks as if she’s taken a severe beating of her own. It brings back so many painful memories I’m struggling to breathe and as I catch Roberto staring at his counterpart, he looks as sick as I do as we witness what happens when a trusted servant steps out of line and ends up as the day’s entertainment.

I study my consigliere closely, and he glances in my direction and nods respectfully. I can tell he knows. It’s the bitter defeat in his expression as he faces his own possible future. A lifetime of serving a bastard only to turn on his successor, and for what, exactly? I can’t wait to hear his excuse.

I maintain a blank expression and study the rest of the occupants of the cold concrete room. The blood of many tortured souls staining the walls and the ground beneath our feet. The stench of evil flooding my senses and the sound of the pit of hell opening to welcome the damned inside.

Then it strikes me I have an opportunity here and as I watch Franco studying his two victims, the seed of an idea takes root in my mind as I contemplate his staff. The animosity on their faces toward him tells me everything I need to know and watching the hatred positively burning on his daughter’s faces gives me my reason.

Franco speaks to the room as if he’s entertaining the crowd. “I brought you here to witness an execution.” Daphne’s cries interrupt his speech, and he strides toward her and strikes her hard around the face. Her lover shouts out and even during his final moment on earth he protects her and his father groans in pain as he whispers, “Hush, son, don’t make it worse for her.”

Jasmine has tears dripping from her horrified eyes and a quick glance at Alana reveals a spark of excitement in hers. I can’t believe they produced such magnificent offspring and my hatred for the couple grows into a black rage.

Jasmine runs to her sister and stands between them and yells, “Enough! No more. Please, no more.”

Franco raises his hand and I say icily, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He remembers his position and drops his hand before growling, “Then bring your wife in line, Angelo, before I do it for you.”

The room falls silent, save for the weeping woman who looks as if she won’t last the night and I step toward my wife and pull her behind me and say in an emotionless voice, “My business is my own and I don’t take kindly to interference from anyone.”

Franco looks at me in surprise because he probably thought I would play his game, and I say to Jasmine, “Take your sister and leave.”

Franco makes toward me and holds the knife in front of him and you could hear a pin drop in the room as one Don faces off against another.

“You dare to tell me how to run my business in my own home?”

“I do.” I face him with a cold look, and he raises his knife, causing Giovanni and Roberto to step to my side. “Put the knife down, Don Rossi.” Giovanni is cool in a crisis, and I’m not surprised that none of Franco’s soldiers does the same.

He obviously notices this too because he looks at his men and scoffs, “Weak fools, every last one of you.”

His attention switches to Daphne, who is being helped to her feet by her sister and he barks in a desperate act of regaining control, “Come here girl.”

“No!”

Jasmine stands between them, and Franco looks enraged as he prepares to strike again. The tension in the room is at breaking point and as hostile eyes glare in a battle of survival, Franco decides to gain the upper hand and, as if in slow motion, he raises the knife and makes toward my wife. As I reach for my gun, a piercing scream fills the room as Franco falls onto Jasmine, who is protecting her sister. I rush forward in a blind panic as the blood drips between them like the river of tortured souls and Daphne’s scream echoes in my ears. It all happens so quickly as Alana gets to them first and pulls her husband away from his daughter and, as he drops to the ground, I stare in disbelief at the large knife protruding from his heart.

Jasmine is coated in blood and falls to her feet as her father lies unblinking on the floor of the dark room. The silence is eerie as we all stand by and watch a man cut down by his own flesh and blood.

Alana’s cry is like a demented demon as she looks up at her daughter, her eyes blazing fire.

Before we can react, she grasps the knife in Franco’s right hand and leaps toward her with an agonized scream. Jasmine’s frightened eyes pierce my heart along with the loudest explosion as she holds up her hands to defend herself. Her mother falls back and finds a soft cushion on her husband’s dead body, and I stare in amazement at the direction the shot came from and see Daphne shaking as she holds the smoking gun in her trembling hands.

Roberto catches my eyes and nods and I watch as he retrieves his gun from the traumatized girl and as he wipes the prints, he offers me a small, sad smile and steps back into the shadows.

I don’t waste a minute and can’t get to her quickly enough and as I drop to my knees, I pull Jasmine into my arms and as they close around her, I am struggling to breathe. It all happened so fast, and as she sobs in my arms, I hold her so tightly as if I will never let her go and growl, “Cut them down.”