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“What?”
“Audiobooks.”
Christ.
I lift my hand and give Carlo’s shoulder a squeeze. “She’ll love that. Thanks.”
While Carlo steps out of the room to make the call, I toss the rest of the whiskey at Stefano’s face. “Wake up!”
Emilio moves closer and gives the fucker a couple of slaps.
Stefano lets out a groan, and when he lifts his head, I ask, “Ready?”
Spittle dribbles from his mouth as he shakes his head. “No.”
I pass the empty tumbler to Emilio and say, “Give me a knife.”
“No. Please,” Stefano starts to beg.
“And you wanted to be the Capo dei Capi.” I shake my head as I take the knife from Emilio. “Pathetic.”
I step closer to my cousin, and as I press the blade to his right side, I growl, “You’re fucking weak.”
Slowly, I push the blade into his flesh, and I drink in the sound of his cries.
I leave the knife embedded in his side so he doesn’t bleed too much and order, “Bring the bucket.”
When Emilio leaves the room, Carlo comes back in. “All set.”
“Good.”
I stare at Stefano, whose breaths are fast and shallow, his skin ghostly pale.
“I don’t think he’ll last much longer,” Carlo mutters.
Unfortunately, I agree. The fucker is much weaker than I thought.
When Emilio returns with a metal bucket, a blow torch, and a cage with rats, Stefano almost shits himself.
“Dio! No! Misericordia, per favore,” he begs for mercy.
“Take off the belt and strap the rats to him,” I order.
Emilio removes the belt, and Bobby has to help transfer the rats into the bucket before they strap it to him.
“No! No!” Stefano screams hysterically. “Nooooooo!”
I grab the blow torch and turn it on, and as I hold the flame to the back of the bucket, I watch as Stefano loses his ever-loving fucking mind.
This is what you get for fucking with me.
When the rats try to escape the heat, they start clawing and biting their way into Stefano’s stomach, and I drink in every fucking agonizing scream until his body goes into the shock from the rats tunneling their way into his guts.
When his head slumps forward, Emilio checks for a pulse, and only when he nods do I turn off the blow torch.
“Bobby, get the men to clean up,” I order.
“On it, boss.”
