Page 41 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
Pinching the bullet between my fingers, I pull it free, and everyone takes a breath.
“Give it to me,” Carmine holds out his hand, and I place it in his palm. He inspects it. “I’ll use the same bullet to kill Romano.”
“That’s the revenge story I love to hear about,” Ari’s teeth begin to chatter.
I pour more vodka on the wound, and he curses at me, “You fucking bitch! Warn me next time.”
“Watch it! She’s trying to save your life, Ari,” Carmine hisses. “You will not speak to her like that, or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. It just hurts,” he says.
“It’s okay.” I forgive him easily. “You can call me a bitch all you want for the next part.” I fold the belt in my hand and push it into his mouth. He mumbles, and I know what he’s trying to ask.
Why the belt?
“Did anyone heat anything for me?”
“Yeah. This decorative iron poker? We have a gas fireplace—”
“That’s fine. Bring it.” I moved it over, Alex, if I remember correctly.
The tip of the iron is a brilliant orange. Smoke wafts from the tip, and Ari’s eyes widen. He begins to thrash, fighting against the men's hold on him.
“I know.” My voice catches. “I don’t want to, but this is the only way to seal the wound. I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to really hurt. You’ll probably pass out, but I have to do it.”
He bites down on the belt, his jaw muscles flexing and the tendons in his neck protruding. Marie can’t wipe the sweat away quickly enough.
“Ready?”
He gives a slight tilt of his chin.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, then I press the searing hot iron into the wound. The flesh sizzles, the heat cauterizing the muscle and vessels so it no longer bleeds. The smell of his skin cooking has me holding back my sick. I try to hold my breath, but it isn’t enough to block the rancid scent.
Ari finally falls limp. The pain is too much for him, and I burn the surface of his wound to make sure it’s sealed.
I toss the poker to the floor, and the adrenaline begins to fade. I sway and fall to the side, Carmine catching me.
“I have you.”
I gag, then flip over, releasing the contents of my stomach on the floor.
He holds my hair and rubs my back. “It’s okay. You did so well, Sweetling. So good. You saved his life.”
“Not yet,” I correct him, wiping my mouth. “I need supplies. Antibacterial ointment, antibiotics to fight infection. I need to ensure he doesn’t react badly to the blood. I need a hospital wing.”
“Consider it done,” Carmine says.
A scream has me sitting up and staring at Nicky. Alex is taking the poker to Nicky’s gunshot wound, and since it’s a through and through, there’s no bullet to fish out.
Nicky punches Alex in the face and then passes out, both men falling unconscious.
“Jesus,” Matias sighs, sagging against the floor.
Everyone is tired. Exhaustion fills the room, and we sit in silence for minutes, maybe hours, I’m not sure. I’m too tired to care.
“Gianni, dispose of the bodies. Matias, settle your brother in an upstairs room so we can check on him as needed. Victor, deal with those two idiots.” Carmine points to Nicky and Alex. “I’m taking care of Delilah. Marie?”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo?” her voice is steady as if she’s seen disasters like this before.
