STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.40. It's fun

I hope I confuse you and you think about me a lot.

- unknown.

. . .

Giovanni

"They match," Zavier said over the phone. "We have the whole upper circle of them by the balls now. All evidence and shit. When do you want to destroy them?"

I looked at Fabiano. "They have wronged many women," I muttered. "Including Leyla."

"You want us to send them to you?"

"Yes," Fabiano said. "And make it seem as if we're inviting them for a gala or some shit. "

"You crazy fuckers," he muttered. "Tomorrow, they'll fly to Rome. I have to go, now."

"Why?" I asked. "Olivia needs belly rubs?"

"No, she wants fucking chocolate again. Sorry baby, I didn't mean it like that. Come on, now....fucking hell, Kitten, that was cold."

I chuckled. "What did she do?"

"She threw the water she was drinking at me. She drinks water with fucking ice cubes. Hey! I didn't mean it like that! I gotta go." He hung up.

Fabiano shook his head. "I remember when he didn't let his subs look him in the eye."

"Bastard fell," I sighed. "Like us, I suppose."

He hummed. "Did Cassian send anything?"

"No, the fucking kid is getting on my nerves."

I looked out of the window. It had a clear view of the garden.

She was there, reading another book of hers. It was after lunch. We had had lunch together. Fabiano and I needed to go to work, too. But going out without her didn't feel good.

I watched as she was approached by Rosa. She sat down beside Leyla, and they both laughed at something.

"She's pretty when she laughs," Fabiano said. We hadn't seen her laugh. Smile, yes. "She's pretty all the damn time." Fabiano was not someone who opened his mouth much, but for her, his words seemed to be endless, while the little bitch rarely answered my calls.

My phone pinged.

It was a video from an unknown number.

I walked to Fabiano, showed him the screen, and played it.

There she was. Carla Valentino, spitting image of our satanic mother.

She stepped into what looked like a party. She was dressed in an exposing dress, smiling and giggling with the man on her arm.

Her blond hair was up in an elegant bun, and the jewellery she wore didn't really look real. The man on her arm looked years older than her and he had a large belly.

Mr grip on the phone tightened. A Valentino woman working as an escort.

There was one text under the video.

Time is ticking. Sister or your whore? Decide soon.

I sent the video to Luca.

Find the man in the video.

I threw the phone on the couch and sat down on my chair, looking up at the ceiling. Rage burned in me again. Insatiable and never-ending. The need to wrap my hands around someone's neck and watch the life leaving their eyes felt too much. The need to hurt who hurt my sister and my woman became too much.

Seven men.

They were going to die the most painful death possible. I was going to make them beg for it, to make them cry for it.

I looked at Leyla who was again alone, sitting innocently in the middle of the garden, ruffling through her thick book with her tiny hands.

The rage quietened but it was there, it was always there, just around the corner, waiting to pounce.

. . .

"The fuck?"

"Yes," Dante said. "That's what I thought. But it's true. They were cast away by their father, all of them, when he had a baby with his new bride so he could be the Capo."

"So the Testas are Camorra rejects?"

"Yes."

"Fucking hell." I ran my band over my face. "Well, Angelo is an idiot." Angelo was the current Camorra Capo.

"That is what I thought. I have to go."

"Don't die."

"No promises, Gio."

I threw the phone away, done with the thing for the rest of the day.

I walked to Leyla's room one she had acquired cutely from Fabiano with one bat of her pretty eyelashes.

I knocked.

"Come in!"

I pushed open the door. She was sitting between stacks of books, her curls up in a bun. Fabiano was there, standing beside the bookshelf.

"What is happening here?"

"We are rearranging the bookshelf," Fabiano said. "For some reason."

She smiled. I almost put my hand on my heart at the action. "It's fun."

I closed the door. "Can I help, Amore?"

She nodded. "You can start with this one. I want them in alphabetical order but the series are to kept according to the name of it, not the name of the book."

"Oh, okay."

She kept us at work for the next hour.

. . .