𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

37 | Bring You In, Take You Out

"I don't know what you're talking about, speak English buddy," Jack laughed, his personality still bubbly regardless of the fact he was the one in the jumpsuit and I was the free man.

The meth junkie woman with the atrociously drawn on lipstick was crying diagonally to us, begging the wardens for longer time with her husband. He promised her he would return at the same time next week. As much as she was a bit of a fruit loop in the head, their undying love and devotion made me smile a bit.

I hope that if I ever end up in a place like this, that the woman I end up with comes and visits me; that she still loves me throughout everything.

A part of me hopes it would be Y/N. The whole of me hopes I don't end up in prison at all, but if it happens any time soon I hope that Y/N stays with me throughout it.

Actually no, as territorial I am, I would want her continuing her life without me. I wouldn't want to deny her of living life to the fullest.

Actually no, it depends on the timing. Right now we're both pretty young so I don't think I'd want her giving up the rest of her life for me. But if we were married or had a kid I hope she'd stay.

Ew, children.
Disgusting.

I know that eventually my mindset might change about children but fuck having kids this young would be my worst nightmare. I would rather go to prison. Although, it would be nice having my own little Rugrats running around my house and terrorising me at all hours of the night. But I definitely don't want them any time soon.

I don't even know if I want to bring children into the world I live in. It's too dangerous. Look at me. I shot my first body at 13. Look at my brothers. The only innocent one is Paddy and that's because I fought so hard to keep him away from this shit for as long as possible.

"El Paradiso Hotel. A quick Google search leads me to believe there's one in Portugal, New Mexico, Alabama, New Zealand and a certain two and a half star motel recently purchased by a J. Maniscalo eighteen months ago... Just over an hours drive from your house," I scowled.

"It's a hide out Tommy, everyone has them. Your Dad has a bunch all over the world and I'm sure you only know about half of them. You think I'm dumb enough to co duct business in a place you'd find me? You think I'm dumb enough to think you're not boning the federal agent who put me in here? I have eyes everywhere Thomas," he continued, his once cheery facade now melting into a cold and harsh demeanour.

"Of course... But you wouldn't be dumb enough to have a rat in The Family then right? Another federal agent on the inside? Except, this one isn't dirty like she is," I chuckle.

As much as I want to beat Jack Maniscalo's head in, I know that he would put The Family above his own life. It's a pact that we all swear. We don't snitch on our brothers. We put The Family first, and there's no rat better than a dead rat.

"There's no federal rats in my fucking family kid, I'd be sure of it," Jack laughed.

"You sure about that? Because my federal rat can prove he was in the force for ten years before he suddenly turned up at the charity gala," I said shaking my head.

I want to kill him.
But we both have our loyalty to protecting The Family. Well, most of The Family. Not Dad. Not me. Not Haz.

"Speaking of federal rats, your new little Dutchess visited today. We had a lovely chat about this apparent rat. And your father," he said leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head.

"Bullshit, she doesn't work the jail system anymore," I said bluntly, I knew he was bluffing.

"Blue button down shirt and black pants? Tight little ass with her hair in a low ponytail? Tell me that wasn't what she was wearing when she left the house this morning and you can tell me it's bullshit again," he threatened.

Y/N came to the jail today and saw Jack Maniscalo without me. Why wouldn't she tell me? He's the most dangerous fucking person I know and she didn't tell me?

"She didn't tell you? Pity, maybe she's the little federal rat you're looking for. You know, people talk around the jail cells. A few of the boys in here knew her name. The girl who almost died at the hands of some serial killer last year... How can you trust her Tommy? How do you know she's not working with this other guy? Maybe they're both rats?" He smirked.

"Just shut the fuck up and tell me why an El Paradiso keychain was found at the docks. Why was the same fucking keychain at her crash site? Why'd you set up Harrison? Why'd you put a hit on her?" I snapped.

"Because I hated your Dad. I still hate him. Honestly I didn't want to pick off Harrison, I think he's a good kid but when you figured out I was behind the tip on your Dad's case I knew I couldn't get to you in Witness Protection. My kids even tried to get through to you via that fucking court Marshall who was protecting you. They killed him you know? Marshall the Marshal was it? Fucking pussy of a man he is... Was. Then when your federal agent bitch got me in here, I figured I'd try to pick you off one by one. Everyone who doubted me deserved to die. To protect The Family. I really was surprised when I saw her this morning though, she was supposed to be the first one dead. Harrison was just an after thought to weed out the snitches but the fact she survived that fucking car crash made me realise it was bigger than the few of you. I thought I'd kill everyone who betrayed me. You were the last on my list but it looks like you're smarter than I thought," He said leaning forward, looking at me dead in the eyes.

"What ever happened to the no snitching rule? Doesn't apply to yourself?" I said quietly, trying to contain my anger. Why was he telling me everything?

"I'm going to rot in here for life, may as well release the tension off my shoulders. And it's all because of your fucking slut of a girlfriend," he snarled.

"Call her that again and I'll fucking kill you," I said quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to myself from the security wardens.

"That would do me a favour Thomas, dying is much easier than sitting in prison watching your soul die before your body does," he laughed, before looking at me again.

"So listen to me carefully boy. She's a fucking slut who I hope rots in jail longer than I do. But I can tell you now I sure as hell wished she died in that fucking crash. And I wish you would've been in the passenger seat too. Maybe then I'd have rid The Family of the biggest cunts of all," he snarled, before pulling a handmade shiv from behind him and stabbing it through my hand.

I admit, it hurt like fucking hell.
Imagine a pen melted around a shard of a metal food tray then sharpened into a knife. Then imagine that going straight through my fucking hand.

Now imagine my other hand flying to the top of the bastards head, gripping his hair and slamming it face down onto the table. It was swift, it was fast. It all happened before the jail warden rushed over to apprehend both me and Jack separately.

His nose was definitely broken by the amount of blood already gushing from his nostrils, my hand was too. I pulled the homemade pen knife from it, which hurt equally as much as how Jacks face probably feels. It poked through the other side, my palm slowly bleeding compared to the rapid rate of the other side.

"Call the paramedics for Inmate 74501 and send him to the infirmary. Call an ambulance for our visitor and send us a doctor to control the bleeding momentarily," the warden shouted, pulling me out of the common room.

"You're a piece of shit you know that Jack?! I hope you die after a long fucking life in here you hear me? I hope you fucking suffer you fucking cunt!" I called out, watching them put him onto a medical stretcher whilst guards dragged me out, blood dripping down my wrist as I started to lose feeling in my entire arm.

The pen definitely broke bones. It definitely severed arteries and probably did some hefty muscle damage.

Fuck me.
At least it's not my dominant hand.
I'll keep that hand for shooting that cunt.

Jack Maniscalo I hope you live a long and insufferable life in here, I hope that when you finally die it's painful and unbearable. I hope your psychotic kids die the same way your wife did; by the gun of a Holland man.

I hope the Maniscalo name dies along with the history of the fucking prick who led it.

I hope I get to be the one to take you out.