Page 17 of Veil of Vengeance

“I’ll be done in about an hour. What about you?” I jut my chin at Romiro as I slam my car door shut and lock it.

“Same. If I take longer, just go ahead of me. I’ll follow you to the OX,” he says as we head into the elevator. He inserts his key first, then presses the floor below the top one. The top floor belongs to me and only I have access to that floor. No one else. I put my key in and scan my thumb, then when the light turns green, we begin to ascend.

“Hey, Rom, next time, dial it back on the Prince Charming act. She’s the enemy, not your next conquest,” I tell him once he gets off on his floor.

“No can do, Capo. Besides, Prince Charming doesn’t have shit on me,” he says before the doors close and the elevator ascends to my floor.

* * *

It’s beenan hour since both Romiro and I left for the OX. It’s quite far, just on the outskirts of New York City. The parking lot is empty right now since the next fight isn’t until later in the week, and the fact that it’s close to nine in the morning.

We head inside and see Diego manning the front desk, scrolling through the betting system we have set up on the darknet.

“Anything I should know about?” I ask Diego, once Romiro and I stop in front of the desk.

“No, boss, except that we’ve made half a million on the last two fights,” he says, grinning. We’ve doubled our profits over the past three months.

“Keep up the good work, Diego.” I head toward the bar area and grab a cool beer from behind the counter, throwing one to Romiro. Catching it, he cracks it open with his teeth.

We make our way down the spiral stairs toward the basement. Down there is Beneditto, Luigi, and Tito dangling from the ceiling by their arms, naked, with tape over their mouths and a small piece of cloth each that covers their genitals. Soon, there won’t be anything there worth covering. Not that there is any to begin with. I place the beer bottle down on the floor beside me.

Romiro heads to the control center to lower them till their feet are nearly touching the ground. One of the three groans, as the drug's effects seem to be wearing off. Tito’s eyes twitch for a couple of seconds before they fly open and widen as he realizes the position that he is in. I can almost taste the bitter taste of his fear on my tongue. My face twists as I take in the look on each of their faces. One by one, they wake up and their expressions morph with fear and absolute defeat. I crack my knuckles while heading toward them. The chains clang together and make loud noises as they each struggle to try to get free of their chains.

“Remind me, boys, what had the instructions been when we set out for Chicago?” Romiro comes to stand next to me, tight-lipped with a grim expression. Gone is his boyish behavior; instead, a trained killer standing in his place. I keep my eyes trained on the three soldiers chained up in front of me. None of them answers my question, causing me to sigh.

“You know I expect absolute and utter respect from my men, but it seems you failed to even deliver that.” I extend my hand, in which Romiro places my dagger. Dragging my forefinger and thumb across the blade, I slowly look each of them in the eye. This makes them even more restless, causing more clinging and clanging of the chains.

I step toward Tito, who, unlike the other two, seems to be less panicked. Romiro’s footsteps echo in the empty basement as he steps back toward the control center and sets the controls for the other two to return dangling in the air. Tito’s chains remain where they are.

“Boss, we didn-” Tito stops trying to explain once he feels the blade pierce the skin between his collarbone and drag toward the area between his pecs.

“I made specific instructions on who we were to shoot, if we needed to do so. You and the other two meatheads didn’t follow through with my clear orders.”

“AHHHHH!” He thrashes as he tries to move away from the blade, but it’s no use. Romiro appears behind him and grabs his midsection to keep him steady, but lets it go once I shake my head at him.

“You go take care of one of the other two.” I jerk my chin at him, to which he nods and heads back in the direction of the controllers. Turning back to Tito, I say, “Tito, you know what happens to soldiers who don’t obey orders. I will not tolerate disobedience. But the issue isn’t that you ignored direct orders from your Capo...”

I direct the blade to where his arms bend at the elbows and push the blade in while also sliding across, causing the skin to break and some blood to ooze out and slowly trickle down his arm.

“The fucking issue is the fact that you shot a child, a defenseless little child. That is something I won’t forgive. I might have forgiven the disobedience to direct orders, butthat,I will not.”

His breathing picks up as I direct my blade toward his face, and when he starts to thrash, I grab his cheeks. The blade punctures his eye.

“LET ME GO, YOU SICK FUCK!” Blood hemorrhages as I continue to press my blade into his eye socket.

“KILL ME! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” The blood sprays all over my face and clothes, but I continue to press.

“LET ME GO!” His eyes roll to the back of his head—or, well, one of his eyes does—and his shoulders slump as he passes out. I check if he has a pulse. He does, but it’s weak. I continue to gouge out his left eye, and it rolls to the floor once I cut it out of its socket. The pungent smell of blood fills the air.

“Romiro, grab the drugs. Tito has passed out already,” I instruct him as I walk to the bathroom in the corner of the room. I look at myself in the mirror. My face is so drenched in blood that it almost drips off my chin. My black shirt looks wet, but you can’t tell what it’s soaked in. Unless you smell it.

I move onto Beneditto and repeat the same thing on him, except I go for his tongue this time instead of his eye. Which doesn’t make him lose consciousness, but when I drill nails into his shoulders, he froths at the mouth before passing out.

By the time we’re done, both Romiro and I are soaked in blood from head to toe and the three men dangle lifeless from the ceiling, or at least what is left of them.

“Romiro, tell Eugine to clean up this mess, but to leave the men here. I want a mandatory meeting by noon tomorrow,” I order as we head up the stairs.

“You want it here?” he asks.

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