Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Gio laughs harshly before head-butting him. As Miguel groans, Gio cricks his neck and gloats, “If I remember correctly, your sister said the same thing when I tied her to Dino’s bed and took her tight little asshole.” He grabs his crotch and shakes it lightly. “Oh yeah, she screamed all right, but you bet she liked that shit.”
At that, I hear rapid footsteps, and then something behind me shatters. Julius lets out an animalistic roar that jolts me, but not enough to look away.
The tears don’t stop as I watch Gio beat up my brother. When he plunges the knife into his chest, I let out a sobbing shriek and stumble back in the shock of what I’ve just witnessed. “No, no, no,” I cry, my entire body weak and shaking.
My eyes close in suppressed grief, but only for a moment.
At the sounds of my brother’s groan, I look at the screen and almost wish I hadn’t.
Gio, having pushed my brother’s chair to the ground, stabs him repeatedly in the stomach and chest with all his might, and I can only watch as my brother blinks sluggishly, wheezing out his last breaths.
I don’t cry anymore. I can’t. Emotion has left me. All that is left is hazy detachment.
I am numb.
I am cold.
Blood roars in my ears and I barely blink as Gio slices my brother from chest to stomach, laughing, and begins to remove his insides, disemboweling him. My brother trembles and shakes as blood drips from the corner of his mouth.
Before he finds peace, Miguel turns his face to the camera, his eyes closing in a tired darkness that will soon become permanent, and wheezes out a gurgling, “Ana… Kick… Scream… Fight.”
I find no comfort in knowing my brother died a proud man. Not when the empty vessel that carried him stares so openly at me, silently cursing me to the depths of hell.
Gio stands from his kneeling position over my brother and wipes off the blade onto his pants. “I didn’t want to do that, Alejandra.” He chuckles to himself. “Who am I kidding?” His bloodstained face grins. “Yes, I did. And I really enjoyed it. I’m fucking hard from it.”
My guts recoil at the realization it’s not his blood.
He moves to take a seat, stepping over my brother to get there. “Now, what did we learn today?” Resting his hands on his lap, he entwines his fingers and stares, unblinking, into the screen. “Newton said that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” He looks down at my brother’s body with raised brows then smiles. “I’m thinking he’s right.”
His face somber, he mutters calmly, “You take something from me, I take something from you.”
Gio stands and vows, “I’m coming for you, and you’d better be ready for me when I get there, baby.” He takes the camera into his hands. The screen shakes as he places it at eye level. “I was going to wait, but I think I’d better tell you the good news now.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “My father wants us tied together once more. He wants our families to try again. They wanted me to marry Veronica, but as it turns out, Luc wants her. Oh, I fought for what I want. You’re going to love this.” His smile darkens as he reveals quietly, toxic, “I get Rosa.”
The screen goes blank, and with it, my mind.
In the past five minutes, I’ve witnessed a madman’s rage, my brother’s death, and the promise of making my thirteen-year-old sister a constant victim of rape, abuse, and mental torture.
What was he thinking, that I was just going to sit by idly and let that happen?
Fuck no.
I decide right then and there.
I’m going to kill Gio.
I’m going to kill him myself.
An unexpected spell of courage blooms from deep within my gut. I will be ready for him when he comes.
My feet spin and I walk out of the room, shouting out, “Call Signor Falco. Call him right now. If my brother sent him something, it’s got to be important.”
Whatever it is, for my own sake, I pray it’s useful.
Bogdan Mihailović is a sentimental fuck. He is also third on my list of five.
Although Yugoslavia no longer exists, regardless of the fact that the breakup of the country happened back in ‘92, Mihailović still calls his crew The Yugo Boys. The Serbo-Amercian group is too chaotic to be called a firm, too organized to be called a mere gang.
They’re stuck somewhere in between. Have been since I met them.
I know a few Serbian men, and for the most part, they’re decent people, but this group of men… they are out of control. They do nothing in halves. Eating feasts every damn night, partying too hard and drinking too much. Overindulgence is a specialty of theirs.