Alberto
I walked down to the cold basement, my muscles relaxing at the familiar feeling and smell. When I reached the bottom, I paused and my lips slowly stretched into a smirk.
“Hello, Alfredo,” I said calmly, my voice loud, vibrating around the silent room.
Alfredo’s head snapped up and he sent me a fierce glare.
“You fucking bastard. What is the meaning of this? Let me go,” he roared in fury, as he struggled against the chains around his ankles and wrists.
I chuckled at his failed attempt and leaned against the wall. He’d been chained against the wall, his ankles bound as well as his wrists, bloodied from his struggles. His head was bleeding from where I’d hit him with the back of my gun.
His face was covered with sweat and grime. A few strands of his hair were sticking to his forehead and he was breathing hard from exhaustion. I knew he’d been struggling for hours.
He looked like a poor bastard, a helpless man. I laughed at the thought. He was never fit to be the fucking king. He was too weak. And now it was time for his end and the start of my reign.
I had to get him out of the picture, permanently.
And maybe I’d enjoy it.
“Now, now. Calm down,” I said.
His face turned bright red and he spat at my feet. “Alberto, I’m warning you…” he started, his voice laced with anger. He never got a chance to finish his sentence.
I knelt down in front of him and grabbed his face, my fingers digging deeply into his cheek. I leaned in close and hissed through gritted teeth. “Or what? What are you going to do? Shoot me? Alfredo, let me remind you. You are the one chained to the wall.”
He winced at the pressure I was putting on his cheek and his pain pushed me on. I dug my nails deeper and then moved my hands downward and wrapped them around his neck. His eyes widened when I pressed my hands harder around his neck, choking him.
He struggled, his face turning almost purple, and he gasped for breath. When I saw him starting to lose consciousness, I let him go.
“Now, where were we?” I asked, moving to the chair in the corner. I sat down and leaned back, crossing my left ankle and my right knee and waiting for him.
“Wh…why?” he asked through his coughing fit. After the words were out, he looked up and leveled me with a glare, his eyes showing me exactly how much he hated me.
Shaking my head at his attitude, I shrugged. “It’s simple. I want to be the boss.”
“You fucking shit,” Alfredo roared and tried to stand up, but fell to his knees instead. “After everything I have done for you, this is how you repay me?”
“Aren’t you the one who taught me there’s no gratitude? Gratitude is a show of weakness, isn’t it? After all, we do what benefits us the most.”
“I gave you everything, Alberto. I made you my second in command. I gave you power. I gave you my daughter!”
His begging didn’t faze me. Instead it made me feel powerful.
His life was in my hands. I controlled everything.
Power and dominance coursed through my body as I stared at him struggling against his chains. I couldn’t help but laugh again. It sounded harsh against the walls of the cold cellar.
“I wanted more, Alfredo. And it’s simple, I’ll take it,” I said in response before standing up and slowly walking toward him. He stopped fighting against the shackles and looked at me straight in the eyes.
I saw disgust and hatred there. But none of it mattered. He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless. And he knew it. In the depth of his eyes, I saw resignation and fear.
Moving my hand to my back, I took out my gun and pointed it straight at Alfredo, the barrel in front his forehead, placed in the middle of his eyes. I saw him swallowing hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing almost painfully in his throat.
“I handed my daughter to a monster,” he bristled, as the gun was pressed against his forehead. My eyes widened when he mentioned Ayla and sudden intense fury coursed through my body.
Pulling my gun away, I brought it forward with force and smacked the back of it against Alfredo’s cheek. His head snapped to the side and his eyes closed tightly with pain but he never made a sound.
“You are not any better,” I hissed, kneeling down in front of him. Grabbing his chin, I made him look at me before continuing. “Did you forget about Leila, your wife? The same wife you murdered in cold blood because she was fucking a Russian?”
Alfredo’s eyes widened in shock and I laughed at his reaction. “Or what about Lyov’s wife? Ah, that one was the best. Attack their mansion, kill half of his men and then kill the unprotected Maria. She was pregnant, wasn’t she?”
Shaking my head at him, I released his chin and pushed his head back with force. It banged against the wall and this time he winced.
“So you see, you aren’t any better than me. I learned from the best, after all,” I paused and sent him a wink. “But I surpassed the master. You should be proud.”
I saw his fingers tightening into fists and he growled at me. “You fucking bastard,” he bellowed. I had enough. Getting bored of the back and forth, I aimed the gun at his forehead again.
Time for him to meet his maker.
“Any last wishes?” I asked, the corner of my lips slightly lifting upward into a smirk. Alfredo struggled and tried lurch forward, but his chains stopped him.
“Fuck y—”
I pulled the trigger and a loud pop was heard. There was gasp of breath and then silence.
Utter and complete silence.
I stared at Alfredo, his pitch black eyes open, but glazed over and lifeless. Empty. Hollow. Opened wide in his final death throes.
He was limp against the wall. And in the middle of his forehead was a tiny hole where my bullet had gone. Thick blood ran down his face and my smile widened at the sight.
Finally.
The Italians were mine, and soon enough, the Russians would belong to me too.
I would be the motherfucking king.