Vittorio
His plan was set in action.
Vittorio jiggled his knee as the dark sedan weaved through traffic, the gun balanced in his lap. He was on edge, unable to keep still. Every second that they looked for Sharon was another second that he worried about her safety, that he feared the worst.
In all his life, the very life he had led, he had never been scared... until now. Now, he was fucking terrified for her. What she must be going through, what he knew Rocco was capable of. Hell, while he liked to separate himself from the Anafesto clan, there wasn’t much difference between the two. Both were bloodthirsty, both had histories of violence with no recourse for what they did.
But he was not Rocco. He did not prey on young women, nor did he snatch them from the streets. Sharon had given herself freely to Vittorio, she not been taken by brutal force. He had been rough in the beginning, but more because she had unnerved him, made him feel things that he thought he wouldn’t feel again.
She had changed him and, once he found her again, he would do whatever she said, whatever she wanted. Everyone could laugh at him, call him weak, but all he needed was that woman at his side, knowing that she was safe.
He would never let her out of his sight again.
The car pulled up to the club and the man next to him got out, scanning the area before he would let Vittorio do the same. The sun blinded him even with his sunglasses on as he stepped out of the car, looking at the very place that he had first laid eyes on Sharon.
“Let’s go.”
In the middle of the day, the shithole club looked dismal, dirty. Vittorio walked in flanked by two of his men, hearing the squeak of the bartender as they filled the room.
“Get the fuck out,” he growled at the woman, pushing past the bar to the back, where he knew Rocco’s men would be.
He had no beef with her. His targets were in the back.
The man in front of him kicked down the door and Vittorio strode in, pointing his gun at the first mother fucker he found. The man was still holding the spread of cards that he had been playing.
“Where is she?”
The man’s eyes were wide with surprise and fear. The cards fell out of his hands and onto the table before him. The rest of the table backed away, their eyes wary as they watched their partner being grilled by Vittorio.
“W-who?” the goon asked, biting his lip nervously as he eyed the mob boss.
Vittorio pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed the man’s ear before slamming into the wall behind him.
“I will only ask one more time. Where the fuck is she?”
“I-I don’t know about any chick!” the man cried, his hand cupping his bleeding ear. “W-we haven’t gone out and got any girls yet, but I can get you whatever you want, man.”
The five other assholes in the room nodded their heads, all looking at their intruders wearily. With three guns trained on them and a trigger happy mafia boss, they weren’t reaching for their own weapons.
Nor were they giving up any of the information that he needed. Leveling his gun at the sweating man before him, he narrowed his gaze.
“Ten seconds.”
“I-I swear it!” he shouted, holding up his hands. “I don’t know about any chick! I had nothing to do with it!”
Vittorio let out a slow breath as he pulled the trigger, the bullet catching the man right between the eyes and spraying his brains on the wall behind him. He didn’t feel anything as the man’s body slumped against the chair, no joy in the kill, no thrill in his veins. All he wanted was Sharon, in his arms.
“Who else isn’t going to answer my damn questions?”
All at once the room started to talk, full of frightened blubbering voices that were attempting to save their lives. They didn’t know anything about any chick belonging to the Contarini family nor had they snatched any girls recently. It seemed that Rocco was more tied up with the destruction of Vittorio’s businesses than he was having his sex trade business flourish.
Vittorio half listened to the mess before turning his back.
“Burn the damn thing down.”
The cries that followed fell on deaf ears as Vittorio exited the club and climbed back into the car, placing the gun once again in his lap. He didn’t like this, but it was what had to be done. Rocco had made this personal, very personal, and Vittorio’s reaction was what he should have done all those years ago when they’d killed Lara. He hadn’t reacted this viciously then.
Well, no more. He wasn’t going to stand by idly and watch as Rocco took someone else. He was going to end this fight between them even if it killed him. This feud between them was going to stop now. Sharon wasn’t the only reason he was doing this, he was cementing himself on top of this fucking city and crushing everyone under him.
“What next sir?” one of his men asked, as they joined him in the car, shutting the door behind him.
The smell of gasoline had followed him in, but Vittorio didn’t so much as bat an eye, as if he had shut himself against what he had just done.
That was the way Vittorio wanted to run his business, his life.
Vittorio straightened his shoulders, his gaze hard behind his sunglasses.
“We go to the next mother fucking club and burn it down, and the next, and the next, until we find her.”
“Yes sir,” his associate said, tapping on the window them and the driver.
The car pulled away from the curb and Vittorio didn’t even bother to look back as the building went up in flames.
If this didn’t send a message to that old bastard, he didn’t know what would.