God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

I’m standing in the armory with Angelo, Franco, Renzo, and Dario.

Dario’s set up a working station for himself by my systems where he’s searching for anything that can help us find out who’s behind the attack.

My phone starts ringing, and letting out a growl, I pull the device from my pocket.

“What?” I snap.

“The club,” Pippa, the manager of my club, says. Panic laces the words. “There was a car bomb, Mr. Falco. It blew the side wall away. We won’t be able to open.”

“Motherfucking Christ,” I shout. “Deal with the shit. I’m busy.”

“Yes, sir.”

I end the call, and before I can throw my phone against the wall, Carlo grabs it from me.

“We need the phone,” he reminds me. “In case the fucker calls.”

The fucker, being the person who’s attacking me.

I let him keep the phone as I stalk a few steps away before turning to face the men.

“Who is behind the attacks?” I bark.

“We took out Miguel’s entire family, but maybe it’s one of his men,” Angelo says.

“No. The person knew where the mansion was. Who else?”

“Besides us, who knows the location of the mansion?” Franco asks.

“My men.” My eyes flick over the other four heads. “Your men and women.”

“It wasn’t one of us,” Renzo mutters, cautiously watching me.

“My aunt on my father’s side and my cousin.” My eyes narrow as I glance at Carlo. “Would Stefano have the balls to attack me?”

He shakes his head. “He doesn’t have the manpower or weapons to launch such a big assault on us.”

“I have the footage of the attack,” Dario says. “Well, part of it. They wiped out some of the surveillance cameras as they entered.”

I stalk to where Dario’s sitting and stop behind him. My eyes latch onto the screens, and I watch as the four helicopters approach.

“Those are black hawks,” Renzo mutters from next to me.

“No fucking shit,” I grumble.

I watch as the attack begins, and it makes my rage burn a million times hotter.

My men didn’t stand a chance.

“Pause!” I snap when a man stalks out onto the veranda with Gabriella draped over his shoulder.

My fucking heart breaks seeing her in the enemy’s clutches, but I forcefully shove the emotion down and focus on his face.

“Find out who that fucker is. I want a name!”

“On it,” Dario says, immediately getting to work.

Within seconds he has the information for me.

“Filippo Vero. He’s a mercenary for hire,” Dario murmurs. “Fuck, Damiano. He has the best team out there. Why the hell would he attack you?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Renzo hisses. When our eyes flick to him, he shakes his head as he takes a step backward. “That’s the big arms deal I completed last week. He’s the buyer I told you about.”

Fuck.

“I remember you mentioned it at the poker game,” Franco says.

Renzo’s eyes lock with mine. “I didn’t know it would be used against you.”

“Someone hired him,” Angelo says. “Someone who knew where to hit so it would hurt you most.”

Stefano.

Fuck. It can only be Stefano.

Is he really that fucking insane to come for me?

I look at Carlo. “Does Stefano have enough money to hire mercenaries?”

Carlo’s features are drawn tight with grief, and I can see he’s struggling to think before he replies, “I have no fucking idea.”

“Give me Stefano’s full name, and I’ll find out,” Dario says.

“Stefano Falco Ferraro,” I mutter.

“Seriously?” Dario asks. “Falco is his second name?”

“Yes. It’s the way his mother wanted it,” I reply.

Just as Dario starts to type, Carlo says, “There’s a message from Stefano on your phone.”

As I walk to Carlo, I tell Dario, “Trace the following number.” I ramble the number to him before grabbing my phone from Carlo.

Opening the message, there’s a video. I press play.

Intense pain shudders through me when I see Gabriella hanging from a ceiling. She’s straining against the ropes around her wrists, then I hear Stefano say, “Filippo, take off her dress.”

Christ.

No.

Don’t force me to watch the fuckers rape her.

Gabriella tries in vain to free herself, and it makes my fucking heart bleed.

A man grabs hold of her to keep her still, and Filippo starts to cut the dress from her body.

Amused laughter sounds up from Stefano, but I can’t see him.

I’m going to fucking tear him apart.

I watch as the emotionless mask settles over Gabriella’s face, and she stops struggling. She just stares ahead at something I can’t see.

They rip the dress off her, then the stubborn defiance that made me fall for her begins to burn in her eyes.

She lifts her chin higher, not giving them anything.

Christ, my little spitfire.

“Damiano?” Carlo asks, stepping closer.

“Stay back,” I bark as I move away from him so he can’t see the screen.

I watch as Stefano presses something to her stomach, and then Filippo fucking staples it to her.

Step down or she will die.

The recording stops, and I lock the screen of my phone before I toss the device at Carlo.

The rage pouring into my veins burns hotter than the sun.

The footage of Gabriella hanging helplessly in a fucking cold room where men are going to torture her pushes me to my limits.

I stalk out of the armory and keep going until I walk into the lining of trees.

Only when I’m sure I’m alone, and no one will see me, do I suck in a shuddering breath before letting out a heartbreaking groan.

Gabriella.

I close my eyes as wave after wave of pain hits, and it feels like someone’s trying to claw my heart out of my chest.

La mia regina.

My entire body trembles, and it takes more strength than I have to push all the pain down.

I suck in a desperate breath, and tilting my head back, I stare at the treetops.

You’re the Capo dei Capi.

The responsibility for the family rests on your shoulders.

I take another deep breath.

There’s no stepping down. You will face this head-on.

Whatever happens, you will stay strong.

I shake my head because, for the first time in my life, I’m faced with an impossible situation.

Gabriella or the family.

“Damiano,” Angelo calls.

I glance over my shoulder and watch as the four capos walk toward me.

Squaring my shoulders, I turn around so I can face them.

They stop in front of me, and Angelo says, “An attack on you is an attack on all of us. We are a family. Tell us what you want us to do so we can bring Gabriella home.”

I stare at them, and lifting my chin, I focus on Dario. “Find out where Stefano is hiding.”

I look at Angelo and Franco. “Get every available man ready for war. Take my mother, your women, and the children and place them in a safe house. We don’t need anyone else being taken.”

Lastly, I turn my attention to Renzo. “I want every weapon you can get your hands on.”

They all nod, and turning around, they walk away to carry out the orders.

I head back to the armory, and when I step inside, I hear my phone buzz.

Christ.

My eyes touch on Carlo’s before I take the device from him.

Sucking in a deep breath, I brace myself for the worst before I open the message.

There’s another video, and I press play.

I watch as a man steps in behind Gabriella. I take in every single fucking detail about him.

He’s shorter than average. Brown hair in a buzz cut. The usual combat uniform. Gloves.

When I catch glimpses of a cattle prod, my fist tightens around my phone.

Fuck.

When he presses the prod to her back, I’m forced to watch as every muscle in Gabriella’s body strains while she convulses horribly.

When it stops breaths explode from her before she presses her lips tightly together and lifts her chin.

Jesus, she’s so fucking strong.

“Again,” I hear someone order.

She’s electrocuted three more times, and when a wounded sound escapes her, my heart fucking shatters.

“One more,” the order comes again.

No. Jesus, stop.

It hurts more than anything I’ve ever endured to watch as Gabriella convulses and pain tightens her features. When it stops, her head falls forward, and I hear her gasping for air.

Christ, I wish I could swap places with her.

“Turn her around so her back is to the camera,” the other fucker says.

He turns Gabriella until I see her back where the five burn marks mar her skin.

“Step down, Falco,” the unknown man, who I assume is Filippo demands. “Or we will tear her apart.”

“Never,” I growl.

“What is it?” Carlo asks.

“Videos of the fuckers torturing Gabriella,” I mutter, my tone filled with the promise of death. “They want me to step down, or she dies.”

He sucks in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “What are we going to do?”

Locking eyes with my second-in-charge, I growl, “We’re going to war.”