Page 112 of The Diávolos: Part Two
The assailant howls in pain, rocking his body back and forth on the pew.
I carefully place my rifle on a table near the altar, using a retractable stand that comes out of a built-in compartment under the stock and handguard, and point it straight to the man’s chest. Then, I install an optic mount on top of it that uses a laser beam to aim, controlled by a little remote I now have in my hands.
Once that’s set up, I approach the man and pull his head sideways, placing the muzzle of my handgun against his temple.
“Listen closely, you piece of shit. The longer you keep your mouth shut, the more bullets I’m going to put in your body. I’ll empty a round in your chest each time a question goes unanswered, using this little red button on the rifle my dear brother, Dion, built for me.”
His pupils dilate as a clear sheen of sweat beads on his forehead.
I press the button once and a red laser beam points directly at his sternum.
The color drains from the man’s face as his muscles tense, the subtle quaking of his body becoming more obvious.
“Now, let’s try this again, shall we? Who sent you?” I ask, barely able to maintain my composure.
I just want to unload the entire clip on him and call it a day, but I need to confirm who sent him.
Gianis stands beside me, and I can feel the surge of heat radiating from him.
“If you think we can’t find out who you are, you’re more of a clown than I thought. Answer, or I’ll personally kill your entire lineage,” Gianis threatens.
The man stutters as he speaks. “Don’t touch my family.”
I knock him on the side of the head with my gun. “Then, speak.”
His mouth is filled with blood, making his words muffled. “It was Ph-Philip Kas-astellanos.”
The guys and I give each other knowing looks.
Just as I thought, now that the Kouvalakis leader is dead, Kastellanos took matters into his own hands.
I tap on the fucker’s shoulder. “Attaboy.”
As I walk off, I press the remote, not taking my thumb off the button until the entire clip has been emptied in his chest.
Dion’s lips tighten into a hard line. “I knew Aria’s father would be behind this.”
I nod my head. Philip Kastellanos is an idiot. He fled the city like a little bitch the instant he heard trouble was looming and then decided to attack us on my fucking wedding day, almost killing his daughter in the crossfire. I was already planning on sending him to his grave; this just solidifies my decision.
“It all makes sense now,” Gianis mumbles to himself.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He pinches his mouth shut, clearly holding back what he wants to say.
“Spit it out,maláka. I’ll find out one way or another.”
“Nothing that you don’t already know, but there’s one thing…”
“What?” I grit out.
“I was able to get a copy of Peter’s will. I was going to show it to you after the wedding. Angelica isn’t the beneficiary of his estate. Philip is.”
32
ANGELICA
“Even if it's not your fault,
