Page 83 of His to Destroy

Down.

Deeper.

Until the walls are damp and the air is thick with mildew.

We reach an empty cell carved into the heart of the underground.

I throw Stark into it without ceremony.

He crumples onto the floor, barely conscious.

Enzo slams the door shut behind us, the iron bars clanging with finality.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the broken man lying at my feet.

Then I turn and walk away without looking back.

***

The next day, by noon, every major captain and top lieutenant of the Colosimo syndicate is gathered in the underground hall.

The air hums with tension and curiosity.

Gaspare calling a council like this without warning? With blood staining his clothes and fire in his eyes?

It’s obvious to all who care to wonder that it means something big.

Something final.

I step into the center of the room, dragging Stark behind me like a trophy.

He collapses in a heap at my feet, groaning.

Every pair of eyes in the room locks onto him.

I let the silence stretch, savoring it.

Then I speak, my voice cutting through the charged air.

"This man," I say, kicking Stark’s side hard enough to make him grunt, "betrayed the syndicate. Betrayed me."

Murmurs ripple through the room.

"He orchestrated the assault of an innocent woman—one connected by blood to the Spadafora family. He left her broken to weaken our alliance. He lied. He manipulated. He poisoned our ranks."

I pause, letting the weight of the words settle over them.

"And he nearly succeeded in destroying something far greater than loyalty."

I kneel beside Stark, gripping his bloodied hair and yanking his head up for all to see.

"This," I say coldly, "is what betrayal looks like."

The room is deadly silent.

Not a shuffle.

Not a breath.

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