Page 33 of Ruthless Sinner

Some will tell you they have a purpose that aligns with your needs. They’re the kind of men you remember on an idle Wednesday afternoon when tax season is coming up and you need someone with contacts to an off-shore bank.

Some will announce their importance and presence so loudly that you can’t ignore them. They’re the kind of men whose iron sharpens your iron.

And some men, the most dangerous men, will shout from the rooftops that they want you to kill them. They’re the kind of men who aren’t afraid of death.

And I’m the kind of man who will ensure they get exactly what they’re asking for.

Aburly, scarred man tightly grips Adalina in his arms; his hand clamped around her throat with a gleaming knife pressed against her skin. His lips curl into a sinister smile as he looks at me over her shoulder, revealing a single missing canine amidst an otherwise perfect row of white teeth. But my vision is immediately obscured by the other men who approach me.

“Guess Vinnie couldn’t do the job,” one says. His pants hang low on his hips, the button undone and a hint of skin peeking through. His eyes, dark and intense, hold a twisted gleam of lust.

“Were you about to fuck her?” I growl through gritted teeth, my anger rising to the surface like a tidal wave.

He is all muscles and strength, every inch of him seemingly carved from stone. The two men flanking him look equally formidable, their broad shoulders and chiseled frames hinting at formidable power.

“What’s it to you?” The human brick asks.

“If you were about to fuck Adalina, I’d have to kill you.” Honesty is the best policy.

The man adjusts his pants, the fabric stretching tightly as he buttons them at his waist. His lips are twisted into a smug, cat-who-ate-the-canary grin that makes my insides boil with rage. “I wasn’t just going to fuck her,” he scoffs. “I was going to fuck her bloody. I was going to fuck her until she couldn’t stand. I was going to fuck her until she was begging me to kill her instead.”

I am already covered in the warm, thick blood of one of his comrades. A metallic smell fills my nostrils, invigorating me. I am not afraid of what’s to come; I do not fear the mess.

My hands are already coated with the blood of one of their compatriots; I am not afraid to get dirty. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The man’s heavy steps thud against the floor as he slowly advances towards me. With a sinister look in his eye, he begins to crack the knuckles on each of his fingers one by one, the sound echoing through the room like gunshots. “I’m waiting for you to follow through. Come on, kid, show me what you’re made of.”

Three hulking brutes stand between me and Adalina, four if you count the one with a knife pointed at her throat. Thankfully, blinding, murderous rage is all the adrenaline I need.

Like a bull racing toward the red flag, I set my sights on the biggest of the three guys and make it my mission to show the other men in the room what I’m capable of. He pulls out a fist and aims it straight at my gut, but it isn’t enough to slow me down. I groan as I sink my teeth into the man’s throat, piercing his skin. His unholy cry is like music to my ears.

“What the fuck,” I hear one of the other men whisper.

A metallic taste fills my mouth as I forcefully tear away from the man’s body. Tendons and flesh give way, leaving a gaping hole in the man’s throat. In a moment of primal instinct, I spit out the torn flesh onto the ground, the coppery odor lingering in my nostrils.

The big man clutches his neck, his eye twitching with shock and fear as he stares at me in disbelief. His blood spills out in thick rivulets down his body, staining his clothes and the ground around him in crimson paint. “You motherfucker,” he swears.

But defense is not in my repertoire. In a violent clash, in a war of wills, I am the unrelenting aggressor. With ferocity and tenacity, I strike first and with full force, unyielding and unstoppable in my attack.

With every swing, my anger and frustrations are unleashed on the man before me. Each blow connects with a satisfying thud, but he manages to land a couple of punches as well: one to my jaw that sends a sharp shock of pain through my skull and another to my ribs that has me gasping for air. But the blood loss makes him weak, and he stumbles backward before crashing to the ground with a thud that reverberates through the floor.

“Who’s ready for round two?” My gaze sweeps over the other men standing before me; they are no better than their unconscious compatriot lying at my feet. They are all complicit; they all threatened Adalina, and they will pay for their crimes. They will rot in the dank, putrid dungeons beneath the Terlizzi compound, where their screams and pleas will be music to my ears. They will suffer until they have been stripped of every last shred of humanity, and all that’s left is their shattered souls.

With a speed and force that catches me off guard, one of the attackers charges at me like a linebacker. In a split second, I gather my strength and swing my fist towards his temple. The impact is like an explosion, sending shockwaves through my arm as his body crumples to the ground. I can hear the sickening sound of his skull caving in beneath the immense force of my blow. He lies motionless on the floor, unexpectedly defeated.

“You’re next, big guy,” I nod to the third. “You a better fighter than these guys?”

They were counting on the element of surprise, thinking an attack in the dead of night would secure their victory. Tommaso Martinelli would have emerged from this battle unscathed, his enemies cowering in fear at the mere thought of crossing him. But he failed to anticipate one single element: his daughter. Adalina was awake, and the few seconds of warning were all I needed. I will survive, but these men will not.

The third man is fueled by anger and desperation. He throws wild punches and lands a few, but I am calm and calculated. When he tries to put me in a chokehold, I twist out of his grasp and deliver a swift kick to his chest that sends him stumbling back.

He lunges at me again, but this time, I am prepared. With a quick sidestep, I trip him up, and he tumbles headfirst to the ground.

I waste no time in climbing on top of him, straddling his torso as I rain down blow after blow onto his face. His arms flail as he tries to defend himself, but it’s no use. My fists are like hammers, pounding into his flesh until it turns black and blue.

His cries for mercy turn into gurgles as blood fills his mouth, and he struggles to breathe. But I don’t stop until the fight has been completely drained out of him.

As I climb off of him and look over at Adalina, the man holding the knife to her throat is now visibly shaking with fear. He knows that he is next. “You’ve got two choices,” I tell the last man standing. “You let Adalina go, and you spend the rest of your life breathing through a tube. Or you force me to beat you to death right here, right now, in front of your friends. Assuming any of them are alive.”

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