Page 5 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Prince

“I won’t be staying long,” I say as I toss the keys to one of the men. He catches them in the air and nods, walking to my car to park it properly.

“Santino!” I yell as I walk into the building.

One of the rooms is filled with screams echoing out of it. Santino has to be there.

I walk past the room used to store bags of cocaine. Some of my men are working there. The brightly lit room allows me to see their faces, with a few ladies clad in only panties and bras.

The screams get louder as I walk further into the warehouse. Santino’s head comes into view as I stop by the slightly opened door. I push it wider and Santino’s gaze meets mine.

Everyone in the room stops to nod a greeting as I walk into the room, my hands in my pockets. Everyone except the snitch tied to the steel chair with a bloodied face. He is breathing heavily, with one of his eyes barely open and the other swollen. His bodyhas whip lashes that have turned the color of his skin a bright red.

“Please let go of me; I am innocent.”

“Cagna(Bitch),” Santino says through gritted teeth. He raises his fist, wrapped in a chain, to connect a punch to the face of the prisoner.

I stop him before he does. “Who are you?” I ask.

The prisoner keeps mute and turns his gaze away from mine, planting it on the ground.

“I expect a fucking answer when I ask you a fucking question.” I unbutton the sleeves of my shirt and roll them up. “I’ll only ask you one last time. Who the fuck are you?”

My voice has gotten louder with fury.

“Vaffanculo(Fuck you),” the prisoner responds, spitting out blood.

In a fit of rage, I angrily connect my fist to his jaws and send him tumbling to the ground, still tied to the chair. He groans loudly. My men pick him up from the ground and bring him back to his spot.

“I’ll make you regret every choice you have made trying to mess with me.” I punch him hard again in the face, causing him to spew out more blood.

He has bloody cuts on his bald head. His bloody face smears my fingers. He has a tattoo mark on the side of his neck. An anchor. The mark of the Mancinis. I grip his neck and tilt it to the side to stare at the tattoo. He really is one of them.

Fuck.

How did they find out about our truck? Why did Giovanni let this happen?

Santino unwraps the chains from his knuckles and hands them over to me.

“You’ll wish you were dead.” I take another shot at him, hitting him with a vicious punch. He screams in pain, his face bruised with several cuts from the edges of the chain. My wrists start to hurt, but I continue hitting him.

Santino holds me back after a few minutes.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I grunt, shaking off his grip. The prisoner’s face is almost unrecognizable. He spews out more blood.

“He... he sent me.” His words stop me from connecting another punch to his face.

“Who?”

He keeps mute again, trying to catch his breath.

I grip his neck and squeeze tight. “Who sent you?”

He struggles in the chair as I suck the air out of him. His eyelids flutter as his legs move frantically on the floor. He coughs as I release his neck from my grip.

“I won’t stop next time.”

A smirk plays on his lips as he stares at me with half-opened eyes. “We are closer to you than you think.”

What?

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