Page 97 of The Don

“You have no honor, Adrian. And you have no power either. I, on the other hand, hold it all.” I sneer as I stare at him. “I can make this quick, or I can make you suffer until I give the word that you die.” I lift my eyes to look at Ruben. “Peel the skin off his bones,” I say through gritted teeth. Dominic glances toward Ruben, then back to me. Ruben holds his hand out to Dominic, who hands him a hunting knife. Ruben walks over to Adrian, stabs, and starts running the knife down Adrian’s outer thigh. “Slowly,” I add while staring at Adrian.

I should be the bigger person and beg Ruben to stop, but Adrian put me through hell, and that’s all I want for him. Adrian’s screams are bloodcurdling and make my skin crawl. “Stop!” he screams, begging as Ruben drags the knife.

Ruben continues to pull the knife down Adrian’s leg. When he reaches the knee cap, he lifts the knife, stabs it into the top of his thigh and drags it down making two parallel lines. Adrian’s screams are loud and desperate. Blood is spilling, and all I can think about are the months of torture he put me through, and the baby he killed just today.

Dominic, Marco, and Dante are all in the shed, watching as Ruben tortures Adrian. I should be terrified, but I’m not. If anything, I’m content. Happy even. Ruben peels his skin back and drops it on the floor. He looks to me, silently asking me what I need to see for my own satisfaction. “An eye for an eye, Adrian.”

“Please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he shamelessly begs.

“You fucked with family,” Dominic says.

“Just stop,” Adrian’s voice is hoarse as he limply collapses against the chair. “I’m sorry.”

I take a step back and lift my chin to look at Adrian. “Just so you know, Adrian, I’ll never think of you again. But you’ll think of me as Ruben and Dominic continue to torture you.” I flick my eyes to Ruben and say, “Make it slow and painful, please.”

Ruben smirks and gives me a wink.

I turn and walk out of the shed. The moment I’m outside, I fall to my knees and vomit. “Are you okay?” Rose asks as she rubs her hand up and down my back.

I look to her and shake my head. “I will be, though.”

“Come on, let’s get you back to the house.” Rose helps me up and enfolds me into her arms. “Next to you leaving him, I think that’s one of the bravest things you’ve ever done.”

“I don’t feel brave. I feel sick to my stomach.”

“I can only imagine what you saw in there.” Entwined, we slowly walk up toward the house. “How bad was it?”

“Nothing less than what he deserved.”

“How are you feeling?”

“That’s a loaded question, Rose.”

We enter the house and Maria is pacing back and forth. “Miss Eliza,” she says as she takes my hands in hers. “I was worried for you. The things they do there...” Maria shakes her head. “You shouldn’t see.”

“When Ruben killed your husband, how did you feel?” I ask.

Maria takes a small step backward as she releases my hands. “Like I could breathe,” she admits. She looks between Rose and myself and waves her hand in front of her face. “I bring you soup.” Maria lowers her head and makes a beeline toward the kitchen.

“You should be in bed, resting,” Rose says.

“Give me a minute, I need to rinse my mouth.” I hurry into one of the downstairs bathrooms, splash water on my face and rinse the sick from my mouth. I take a moment before going to find Rose who’s pacing in the foyer. “Can we sit outside?” I ask as I drift toward the patio.

“Whatever you need.” Rose links her arm through mine and we head outside to sit at the patio table. “How are you feeling?” Rose asks as she keeps a concerned eye on me.

“Like I can breathe,” I repeat Maria’s words. I look around, puzzled by the fact that Storm is nowhere near me. “Where’s Storm?”

“Dante had to take him because he nearly attacked Josiah. The dog went crazy when they brought you home. He was growling at everyone, and then when the doctor came, oh my God, I honestly thought he was going to tear Josiah apart.”

“That’s not like Storm.”

“He’s protective of you, and you were injured and bleeding. What else do you think he’d do?”

Maria wanders out carrying a tray and places it on the table. “Soup.” She slides a bowl over to me, then one to Rose. “I’ll bring you Chinotto?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” I say. Maria leaves and I look at the soup. “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.” Rose pushes the bowl closer. “You’ve been through so much, and I doubt that fucker fed you. So, please, do me a favor, and have some food.” She looks behind me and straightens.

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