Vittorio
Her blue eyes were wide and brimming with tears, a look of shock and dread painted across her lovely face. Vittorio felt his stomach drop into freefall and his resolve harden.
“Put the girl down,” he commanded the stranger, injecting as much venom into his voice as he possibly could. “She didn’t do anything. She’s innocent.”
The potential shooter shrugged, mocking Vittorio with a sniveling look. “Doesn’t matter how innocent she is,” he cackled. “I just kill who I’m told to kill.”
“She… she’s your target?” Vittorio asked, incredulous and instantly guilty.
The man gave Vittorio a rat-like smile. He had dark hair and a tiny dark mustache along his upper lip. He was maybe in his mid-twenties. Vittorio felt a rolling in his stomach as he thought about his life’s work, the business he’d been molded by and for, and the fact that, thanks to stupid crime politics, he was at immediate risk of watching his second lover die in less than five years.
“I’ll pay you,” Vittorio bargained, keeping his voice flat and even. “Whatever Rocco’s giving you, I’ll double it.”
“Ha!” The man laughed, jamming the gun harder against Sharon’s head. Her bottom lip began to tremble and a single salty tear slipped free of her eye to trickle down her face. “You think I care about the money?”
“Every man has a price,” Vittorio argued.
“Trust me, Contarini, you couldn’t afford me.” The strange, gun-wielding villain’s left eye kept twitching as he spoke. Every few seconds his bottom lid would creep up and his head would jerk violently to the side. Is it a tic or drugs? Vittorio wondered. He could handle either one.
“Are you kidding?” Vittorio scoffed, baiting the crazed man. “Look at my house. I could afford your work, your life and then some. Drop the gun.”
“Fat chance,” the man smirked. He pulled back the hammer and cocked the gun. The heavy click spurred Vittorio into action.
He lunged forward, closing the distance quickly on his long legs and punched the man’s forearm. While it wasn’t the most efficient place to hit a person, the sudden force caused the stranger’s hand to spasm and loosen his grip. The line of fire dropped and Vittorio reared up to punch him again, harder this time, across the face. With a spurt of snot and saliva, Vittorio’s solid hit sent the now-dazed shooter’s face whipping backwards. He stumbled to catch himself but maintained a hold on his gun. Once he’d recouped, he aimed it squarely at Vittorio.
“You worried about paying me off, Contarini?” the man warned. “Have any idea how much your head is worth? Take another step, I fuckin’ dare you.”
Vittorio froze. He usually kept a sidearm on him at all times, but he’d forgotten it in his rush to get Sharon out of the city. Lot of good that did you, Vittorio chastised himself. Here he was again, letting love distract him. The shooter had a clean line of fire and Vittorio waited for an idea to come to him. Sharon sat, frozen in her chair, staring at the business end of the stranger’s weapon. Her entire body quaked, shivering in icy fear.
Her terror inspired a rush of courage inside Vittorio and he rushed the shooter. His opponent was a little guy and, as Vittorio hoped, his great size and startling speed surprised the man. He pulled the trigger, the loud gunshot ripping through the tense silence, but the bullet cut to the side and embedded itself in the floor. The ancient wood splintered around the shot, just inches from Sharon’s bare feet. She quickly pulled herself into a ball in her chair, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs.
Without thinking, Vittorio wrapped his hand around the little man’s throat and lifted him clear off the ground. He slammed his greasy head into the wall so hard it bounced. He pinned him there so he was face to face with Vittorio. Unfiltered rage brewed within him, his strong hands closed the shooters windpipe and the red-faced man gasped for air.
“Who the fuck sent you?” Vittorio demanded, his voice deeper and darker than he’d ever heard it. He’d be happy to watch this man wither and die, right there, right then. When the darkness consumed him this way, like it rarely did, Vittorio felt like an entirely different person.
“You… know… who…” the shooter smarted through heavy breaths.
Vittorio squeezed his neck harder until he squeaked. “Say it,” he spat. “Out loud. Tell me who the fuck sent you.”
“Ana… festo…” the man choked out. His fingers clawed desperately at Vittorio’s strong arm, but Vittorio could barely feel him and didn’t budge.
The man’s face continued to redden as Vittorio deprived him of oxygen for longer and longer. Strangled sounds struggled out of his mouth and his eyes began to roll upwards.
“Stop!” Sharon shrieked in horror. “You’re going to kill him!”
Impulsively, Vittorio released the man’s throat and he dropped into a crumpled heap on the ground. Vittorio leaned over him, malice shooting like daggers from his almost-black eyes. His breaths were ragged as he rose his gun back towards Vittorio, his feeble hands shaking as he fought to aim. Vittorio kicked the man’s hand hard, sending the gun flying across the room. It skidded noisily across the floor and knocked into the wall
The beaten man looked up at Vittorio from where he lay on the floor. “Please,” he begged in a hoarse plea, “I was only doing what I was told. You know how it is…”
Vittorio silenced his pathetic attempts at garnering mercy by kicking the man across the face. His head knocked against the wall and a spatter of blood and a broken tooth spurted out of his mouth. The man groaned and raised his arms in a pathetic attempt to protect his face from further damage.
“Please,” he continued to beg, sounding less and less like a man as the pain overtook him.
“Fuck you,” Vittorio sneered. He leant forward solely to spit directly into the shooter’s face. “Get on your fucking feet. You took a fucking order, right? Get up, show me what the fuck kind of man you think you are.”
Vittorio stepped back, his posture still offensive and ready to fight. He Vittoriobounced on his toes, mocking the man as he struggled to stand. Eventually the man steadied himself with the wall and found his footing. The stranger couldn’t seem to keep his eyes all the way open and he swayed from side to side while blood ran out of the corners of his mouth.
“Vittorio,” Sharon warned, but Vittorio couldn’t hear her anymore.