Page 18

The Influence of Revenge.

PRESENT

I fiddle with the hem of my dress, the low thrum of the ferry horn drumming in the distance. I don’t know what to expect in the next couple of days and I’m nervous to find out. Dante and Rafael stand by my left, and the Casella brothers are beside Jackson on my right as we wait for the ferry to dock. All I’ve heard about the Lucchese family is that they’ve been around for a very long time. Longer than the Petruccis. Their rule was mainly over America, but now, I hear it extends to France and Spain. Tommy and Frances have been running their business together since it was passed down to them, and from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, they do it relentlessly.

“Stop fidgeting, you’re driving me insane,” Dante murmurs, slapping my hand, and I take a deep breath, clasping both hands together at my front.

It’s not a big deal. I just have to welcome them to Falcon’s Keep.

I want to remind myself that after the revelry, I get to go back to America, but now, I don’t know if I want to leave as much as I did when I first got here.

I steal my spine as the ferry docks and Frances and Tommy step onto the wharf. I’m stunned as they stroll over to us and the tall one speaks, his midnight hair in harmony with his eyes. He extends his hand to Dante who takes it, then to me.

“Nera, right?” he asks with a relaxed grin.

Taking his hand, I return his smile. “Yes, and you are?”

“Frances.” He tightens his grip on my hand ever so slightly. “Frances Lucchese.”

“I’m Tommy.” His younger brother steps forward, nodding.

I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t for them to be this polite and well-mannered. A few of their men disembark, dragging another man with a cloth bag over his head and forcing him to kneel before Rafael and Dante.

Frances gestures with leather gloves at the man on his knees. “A gift. Given the invitation was very last minute, we couldn’t wire you the ticket price.”

I can sense sarcasm in his voice as he stares at Rafael, and then at Dante.

“Thank you, for your… trouble .” Dante nods as the man is shuffled away in the direction of the forest. Rafael steals a glance at me in warning then follows them, and after the introductions are complete, we head to the manor. Dante informs everyone the revelry will begin at nine tonight, so I head upstairs to prepare.

Pacing my room, I glance at the time on my phone and notice the many missed calls from Elodie. I’ve been keeping in contact with her but when my roots started to grow back, my ties to America seemed to dull.

Pressing call, I hold the phone to my ear and stand in the one spot in my room where I have reception.

“I thought you were dead. What the fuck?” she scolds, and I can hear it in her voice that she’s mad.

“I’m sorry. Things have been… weird around here .”

“Explain.”

“Frances and Tommy are here.”

She gasps and there’s a ruffle on the other side of the call.

“Lucchese?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I know you said your family come from organised crime, but they’re linked to the Lucchese family?” she asks in disbelief.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out tonight. How have the last few weeks been?”

She sighs. “Honestly, it’s been tough trying to stick to a schedule. Between class, sport, and family, I have no time for fun.”

“So no clubs, huh?” I fiddle with the hair tie on my wrist, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder. “No hot one-night stands I should be aware of?” I hold back a smile.

“As if,” she scoffs and there’s a pause. “When are you coming back?”

I bite my lip, unsure of my answer.

“You are coming back, right?”

“Elodie—”

“Nera,” she warns.

“Yes. It’s still the plan.” I placate her because I don’t have the energy to fight with her today.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to it. Mr Foster just walked in and he seems pissed. Keep in touch, okay? Don’t go MIA on me.”

“Okay, love you, El.”

The call ends and I rest my head against the wall, catching the phone as it falls. I know in the moment I hated it—the classes, the speeches, assignments and essays—but right now, I kind of miss it. I miss the denial I lived in that maybe one day, I could have separated myself from this place, but the truth remains rooted in the trees and my heart.

Falcon’s Keep is my home.

Stepping into my wardrobe, I shift through the hangers, digging out two of my favourite dresses when I spot a deep forest-green box on the floor. I don’t remember putting it there. Kneeling onto the floor, I slide it out, pulling the cream, cotton ribbon and lifting the lid. To my surprise, a small note lays on top of satin packaging, concealing whatever is underneath.

Promise me you . - R.

Taking the cover of my phone off, I stuff the card inside and place it back on. I hesitate before opening the package and take the six-inch, sky-high stilettos out to place them on the floor. I stare at them in awe. With open toes, a criss-cross front that buckles at the side, and a jewel-encrusted falcon on the heel, they’re magnificent. Smiling, I grab the dress I wore to the dinner party with the Casellas, knowing he couldn’t keep his eyes off me that night, and begin getting ready for the revelry.

RAFAEL

A splash of blood splatters onto the sand. The man’s face is still covered with the cloth bag. We’ve been here for an hour and all I’ve done is give this man a whipping.

“Damn, so this is what goes on here,” Nicholas says, stepping down into the pit. Ezra and Jackson have been here since the Lucchese brothers came, but even they don’t know who’s behind the mask.

“I thought we should have some fun with him before he meets his inevitable fate,” Frances says, taking a seat on the step, watching as the blood runs down the man’s back and onto the sand-covered floor. We keep sand here to remind them how something as granular as sand can be painful, among other reasons. This place was originally made to store produce back when Falcon’s Keep was thriving, but has since been changed to house the darker secrets. Despite Nera’s best efforts, the only way to get into the Pit of the Damned is if you have a key. We keep it locked tight because it’s where the broken ones stay. The space resembles a small circular area, something like an arena. With the exorbitant amount of blood the sand has seen, it’s now tinged a dark brown.

“Just put him out of his misery already.” Nicholas lights up a cigarette and Dante looks at the floor. My brows pull in, sensing he knows who’s under there.

Jackson looks around the room with a question behind his gaze.

The whip lands down hard and fast on his back, creating another crater on his skin. His thick blood oozes out from the wound, his screams suffocating the windowless space.

Frances stands to stroll over to the man, gripping at his restraints, and when he pulls the cloth off the man’s head, my heart lurches from my chest. Adrenaline peaks, and as I’m about to swing, Dante’s firm grip holds me back.

Nicholas drops the cigarette in his hand and launches forward, Ezra now barely holding him back.

“Motherfucker!” Nicholas spits, hurling himself in Enzo’s direction.

Jackson’s entire body is frozen, the grip on his phone tightening as his knuckles blanch.

“Merry Christmas.” Frances smirks.

“This was your gift?” I question, glancing at Frances, then aiming my next words at Dante. “What was the price?”

He doesn’t speak, his gaze firmly fixed on Enzo. Something like this can easily cost a life, sometimes more, and I’m not ready to give the Lucchese family any more than what they’ve already taken from me or the Della Torres.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Nicholas bellows, breaking free from Ezra’s hold, his fist cracking through Enzo’s jaw.

Enzo chuckles as Ezra pulls Nicholas back. “How’s Asher?”

Jackson jolts forward, his hands closing around Enzo’s neck, squeezing as his guttural screams fill the void.

“Enough!” Ezra yells, and Jackson releases him. “Dante, explain this.”

“I’ll see my brother take his revenge first,” he says, his face still emotionless.

“No fucking way. I get to kill him,” Nicholas says, reaching for his gun.

“He’s mine!” Jackson’s gaze doesn’t move from Enzo, and I know above everyone else, I’d let him take his piece first. After all, he lost his brother at the hands of Enzo.

Pulling Dante to the side, I force him to look at me. “What have you done?” I question, and his blank stare is far from the person I know.

“It’s done. Now take your revenge, Rafael,” he orders. He’s never spoken to me like this in the years that we’ve known each other, and even though I want to shake him, I know what’s done is done and there’s no going back. It’s time that I take what I’ve been working toward.

“Death is too easy,” I say to Nicholas and Jackson as they pause, the gun in Nicholas’s hand resting beside him. “What I have in mind is far more excruciating.”

I make my way over to the table of weapons and pick up two large knives, handing one to Nicholas. Standing behind Enzo, I speak low so only he can hear me.

“This is for everything you took from me, and everyone you’ve ever harmed in my life.” Piercing the knife into his spine, he shrieks, the muscles in his arms tightening.

Nicholas stands beside me, gripping Enzo’s shoulder. “If you faint, Jackson will keep injecting you with adrenaline until we’re done, you hear me?” He thrusts his knife alongside mine into his back, another blood-curdling yell reverberating through the empty space. I begin first, slicing down into the first rib, sawing it as Nicholas does the same. I struggle to grip the blade, Enzo’s blood now pouring out like a river as he battles to stay upright.

“That’s two,” I say, slicing and sawing into another rib. “That’s four.”

He slumps forward, passing out from the pain, and Nicholas swears as Jackson grabs the adrenaline needle from the table across the room. Jabbing him in the chest, he punches him across the face, leaving the needle in place. “Wake up, fuck face, it’s time to repent.”

We begin cutting again as he slowly comes back, his screams returning as the adrenaline courses through his veins.

“Just kill me!” He pulls the chains, rattling them. “Please, just fucking kill me!”

“We’ll get to that.” I clean the blood from my hands onto my pants and continue. “That’s six. Are you ready for the finale?”

When I look up, Ezra’s smiling, no doubt adding to his sick fucking collection of torture methods, and Frances and his brother look bored out of their minds.

“Are we about done?” Tommy checks his phone.

I don’t answer him as I grip one rib, and Nicholas does the same on the other side. Pulling, the loud crack tears through the space, and Enzo cries out in agony.

Crack.

Another rib snapped open.

Crack.

Another.

Crack.

And another.

By this stage, I’m surprised the adrenaline hasn’t worn off as he whimpers, barely holding himself up. Rolling up my sleeves, I glance at Nicholas, and he nods. Jackson moves between me and Nicholas, and we all dig through Enzo’s ribcage.

I grasp my hands around the soft, spongy organ and yank it out, warm blood spilling out onto the sand, and my shoes, and splattering all over me. Jackson reaches into the middle of Enzo’s chest and pulls out his heart, holding it as he stares at it. Enzo goes limp, his lungs now on the floor, covered in sand. I remain still, willing the anger and resentment to subside now that I’ve taken my revenge, but they don’t. They remain embedded within me, the momentary satisfaction of holding his lung in my hands now like smoke in the wind.

“Fickle, isn’t it?” Jackson murmurs, still staring at the organ in his hand. “I thought it’d make me feel better.” Dropping the organ to the ground, he flattens it under his boot with a stomp, the blood that was left in the chambers now decorating the sand in splatters of vermillion red.

It’s not often someone is subjected to this method of death because it’s reserved for people like Enzo, who truly deserve the agonising pain before their soul is taken from them and their body is pulled apart. As the world continues spinning, my next question is: what twisted, sick agreement has Dante dived into with the Lucchese brothers, and how the fuck am I going to get him out of it?