Page 38 of Brutal Queen

When I return to face Manny again, I can finally see the toll of the last few hours etched on his features. His bravado has slipped, his skin is an ashy grey pallor with beads of sweat streaking from his hairline and burying themselves in his bushy eyebrows.

Aurora starts up again, the thwack of the hammer against the nail echoing off the walls and punctuated by Manny’s pained grunts. I don’t even need to hold him anymore; he has so little left in him. His head flops forward and I hook a finger under his chin and force him to look me in the eye.

“You don’t have much longer, old man. You sure there’s nothing else you want to get off your chest,” I check.

“Fuck you, bastard scum.”

“Oh, now, don’t be vulgar, Manny. There’s still a lot I could do with you. Maybe keep you around as my personal pin cushion. Use you as a permanent stress ball till I can get my handson my darling husband,” Aurora teases, not once stopping her hammering.

She must hit something more vital, because as the hammer strikes its target, his legs give out and his full weight falls, yanking down hard on the chain, cutting off his air supply. The raspy breaths cease and his pale skin reddens before turning a purple hue.

“Oopsie, guess I should have steered clear of your spine. It seems I’ve struck a nerve,” Aurora whispers in his ear, with quiet menace.

“What do you want me to do, phoenix? Are you done with him, or do you have anything else to say to him?” I ask.

“Lift him. See if he has anything left in him,” she replies.

I jog back to the table and pick up the wire cutters. I make quick work of the barbed wire and let it fall to the ground. Standing at his back I hoist him up, letting him heave in one of his last breaths.

Aurora stands proud in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other swinging the claw hammer gently, letting the weight of it tap against her knee. “Any last words, Manny?”

Manny is a dead weight at this point, one I can feel the life slipping out of with each rasping splutter. That doesn’t deter him from opening his mouth and trying to spew his venom one last time.

“You… you’ll be the end of the Bianchis. You’re a worthless whore. For a woman who’s so adamant she wants to destroy the De Lucas, it’s ironic that you’re fucking one.” Manny forces out the words with a vicious smile, before slumping further in my hold.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”I bite out, jostling him in my arms to stop him from losing consciousness.

“You don’t look much like your father, but you have the same colour hair as your brother.” A sinister chuckle gurgles inhis chest, but it only causes him to choke on the blood that’s pooling in his lungs. I can’t see it, but can feel it against my forearms where his head hangs and it dribbles from his lips.

Aurora wrenches his head back up by his hair. “What did you say?”

“You fucking heard me. Nico is the bastard son of Salvatore De Luca.”

“You’re fucking lying,” I scream, “My mother was?—”

“A foot soldier's daughter, raped and left on Mateo’s doorstep as a message to the Bianchis,” Manny sneers with a manic tone in his voice. “You thought you were free of the De Lucas? It seems no matter what you do, you’ll always be a De Luca’s whore.” He tries to laugh in Aurora’s face but chokes instead, forcing him into a long hacking cough.

I’m speechless. If what he’s saying is true, then I really am a monster. Spawned from our enemy and brother to someone who has caused unimaginable pain to the people I love. Who else knew this and didn’t tell me? Mateo knew. Manny knew. Who else?

I was told my mother died in childbirth and I was raised by distant relatives. I always knew I was a bastard. Thefamilythat raised me made it abundantly clear how much of a burden I was, but I thought it was a simple case of teen pregnancy in a catholic family. As soon as I turned sixteen, I left home and never looked back. What was the point of staying somewhere I wasn’t wanted? I swallow hard, remembering the years of being raised by people who went out of their way to ensure I knew how worthless I was.

Now’s not the time to be losing myself to a slew of memories. If this is true, there’s no fucking point asking Manny anything else. He’s only revealing this now because he knows he’s running out of time, and any words that pass his lips will either be lies, or worse, truths he’ll frame in theworst possible way to derail our plans and cause the most damage.

Aurora’s gaze captures mine and I feel like an entire conversation flows between us. The way her brow furrows and her eyes soften tells me that she wants to reassure me. There’s no part of her that fears or despises me. Manny’s words don’t affect her—they don’t change how she feels about me. It takes me aback. Of all the things I expected to see reflected back at me, understanding wasn’t one of them.

Aurora tilts her head towards Manny, and I see it for what it is. She wants my permission… and I gladly give it, nodding back at her slowly.

Manny is too preoccupied, struggling to steal a breath through his macabre cackling to notice her arm drawing back. She’s so quick I don’t see the hammer as it arcs towards his temple, but I hear the thud as it connects with his skull, and the sickening crack as the claw smashes through bone, embedding itself in his brain. The spray is unimpressive, but the result is instantaneous.

Manny Ferella is dead.

I let go of his body and the chain pulls taut against the rolls in his neck. His body rotates for a few seconds before the balls of his feet scrape on the concrete floor, stopping his momentum. I can’t help but stare. This is the least smug I’ve ever seen his face.

I don’t know how long I look, but suddenly I feel the warmth of Aurora’s touch. Her palms stroke down my face and she pulls me away from the body, turning my gaze towards hers. She’s teetering on her tiptoes to try and close our height difference, so I reach around her waist and pull her up into my arms. Aurora touches her forehead to mine, and I lose myself in the comfort of her closeness. Revel in the warmth of her breath feathering across my skin.

I walk her to the tailgate of the truck, away from the corpse, and set her down. Before I can say a word, she places a finger over my mouth.

“You are Nicolo Verardi. No matter what, you will never be a De Luca to me,” she says firmly, dragging me down into a punishing kiss, one that demands everything from me. She’s claiming me.

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