Page 84 of Deal with the Devil
“Get out of the fucking car. Now.”
Titus stumbles out of the car, so pitiful I almost feel sorry for him.
I would if I had a heart. But since I don’t, it’s an amusing sight. His eyes flick from my mask to the men surrounding him, then back to the blood smeared windshield, as if still trying to convince himself none of this is real.
“You motherfucker!” he shrieks, voice cracking with rage and disbelief. “You killed Dario?! You fucking piece of shit—he was my capo!”
I say nothing in response, the mask hiding my expression. The silence from a man like me tends to do more than words in most situations. It can be unnerving to be stared at by a man in a devil’s mask as the world crumbles around you.
The same can be said for Titus Tuco as the fog rolls by him and semi-automatics are jammed in his face.
“Where the fuck is my son?! Bring him back right fucking now, do you hear me?”
“Stop talking,” I command as though speaking to a toddler. His eye bulge in offense, but I carry on anyway, indifferent to his ego. “You’re in no position to demand anything, Titus. Not when you’ve got twenty semi-automatics pointed at your fucking skull, and not after the stunt you pulled at my warehouse. That little act of vengeance is going to cost you more than you ever imagined. You should’ve played nice. But you chose to play dirty. Now you get to learn the hard way.”
He snarls like a rabid dog, spit flying from his mouth. “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
And that’s when it happens.
The sky tears open behind him in a burst of red-orange fury, a deafeningBOOMthat shakes the ground beneath our feet. His house—his sprawling, marble-laden monstrosity at the top of the hill—erupts in a bright fireball, flames licking the night sky like the open jaws of hell. The shockwave sends Titus flyingto the pavement with a grunt, and even I have to lean into the blast as the heat hits me square in the chest. It’s like the world’s largest oven door has just swung wide, and I inhale the scorching air like it’s divine incense.
Glorious.
Absolutely fucking glorious.
I watch the fire consume everything he’s built, and in this moment, I feel no remorse. No hesitation. Just the satisfaction his complete and total destruction brings.
Titus scrambles on all fours, howling, his face bathed in the reflected glow of the inferno. “You fucking psycho! You’re fuckinginsane!”
I take a step forward, half bending toward him. “As a matter of fact…” I say in an eerily calm tone. “Yes, I am.”
He stares at me, eyes wide with horror.
“You said you wanted to see your son,” I continue, louder for the others to hear. “Look at the flames, Titus. You didn’t know it when you stepped outside, but he was only feet away from you. Just behind those doors.”
I gesture toward the blazing wreckage, watching as he turns his head to glance at the flames.
“And now he’s gone, up in smoke.”
Titus breaks, an ugly howl of pain leaving him. He throws himself at me as if to attack, but one of my men quickly slams the butt of a rifle into his sternum and knocks him back. He lands onto the wet ground like a pitiful creature, screaming at me about his son, his home ablaze.
About how he’ll get his revenge if it’s the last thing he does.
I watch in silence, satisfied by the show as I allow for a rare smile behind my mask.
When the revenge mission is said and done, we return to the penthouse on a victorious note. At least that’s my mood as I stroll into the penthouse. The same can’t be said for my alleged righthand.
Adagio was with me the entire time we exacted the plan against Titus Tuco, though he’s hardly said a word since the explosion.
He’s about as disgruntled as his counterpart from earlier, a marked difference from his usual demeanor. Adagio D’Ambrosio is known more as a jokester playboy type than anything.
I decide to call him on it, like I’d done the moody mute earlier.
“What is it?” I ask. “Out with it. Whatever’s twisting your insides, spit it out like a fucking man.”
He turns toward me, his blue eyes darker than usual. “I saw her. Portia. She’s here. Inyourpenthouse.”
I give no measurable reaction.
