DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

“Just something to make things a little fuzzy. Don’t worry, you will still feel everything I plan to do to you,” I took my wig off and pulled the handcuffs from my purse. Walking over I secured his wrists behind his back and retrieved his two side arms making sure they were plenty far away. Next I lifted my skirt and unsheathed my push dagger. Kicking off my shoes I stalked back across the room, fury heating my blood.

“You murdered my best friend, you beat her, and you raped her!” I yelled in his face. I was so close, we were breathing the same air and it made me sick.

Boris was looking at me with far away eyes, not even trying to defend himself. I don’t think he even knew I was talking to him, but when I straightened and brought my blade down across his chest he let out a pained grunt letting me know he felt it. I brought my blade up this time, making a long line up his side. The cuts were shallow not reaching the muscle, just the flesh. I kept slicing him at a manic pace. I wanted him to feel it. I was going to mutilate his body just like he had done to Gina.

Once his neck and torso were covered in shallow slices, I walked back over to the fully stocked wet bar. Grabbing the container of limes along with the salt I made my way back over to where Boris was feebly trying to fight against his restraints. I set my haul on the side table and approached Boris again.

“You are pathetic, and I am going to show you how much I can make you hurt.” I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him on the floor, with some effort I was able to get him onto his back. He was out of it, he could feel the pain but he couldn’t fight against it.

I stood over him and grabbed for the limes first, slowly squeezing the juice onto his cuts. He cried out in pain but that didn’t dissuade me. By the time I was done, not a single cut was left unsaturated with citrus juice. I smiled as I reached for the salt, pouring it all over his chest and rubbing it in with my foot. That woke him up, he was thrashing and bucking so hard that he almost knocked me over. I needed to end this soon, I had been in here too long already.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

Grabbing my phone from my bag, I pulled up the camera app and hit record; really the scene made for an especially lovely picture, it was almost artistic. The word OMERTÁ was carved in his skin, dozens of slash marks covered his torso and arms, even his face. The lime wedges strewn about around him added a nice pop of color, which complimented the red salt stained blood nicely.

“Bo-ris,” I singsonged his name, “Why don’t you tell your Papa and brother what you’re feeling right now?”

When he didn’t move I grabbed my dagger and stabbed him in the stomach, not one of the shallow slices I was using before, this was deep. As soon as my blade sunk into his flesh he let out a blood curdling scream for the camera, and I laughed. It was maniacal, it was wild and dangerous. I was starting to lose myself in this room. I knew that I needed to get out, but I wanted to stay and play.

His screams slowly dissolved into groans. I kept the camera aimed at him as I leaned forward and sliced his throat from ear to ear. It took more effort than I had imagined but my knife was sharp and I had rage fueling me so I managed to get a clean cut. I let the recording roll for another minute as Boris gurgled and sputtered, finally succumbing as his blood pooled beneath him.

I turned off the recording with my left hand and tossed the phone on the couch as I stood. It took a while to roll Boris far enough onto his side to remove the handcuffs. The fucker was heavy. Moving to the sink at the wet bar I washed the blood from my knife, hands and arms watching it swirl down the drain. As the water began to run clear, the haze of bloodlust started to dissipate and reality started to seep in. I quickly splashed water on my face and neck to wash away the rest of the blood, and grabbed some napkins to dry off. I threw them into the sink and rushed over to get the glass from Boris’ drink, and the container from the limes and salt. I brought them back to the sink, and quickly washed the glass and wiped my prints from everything else.

I made another trip into the living room collecting my wig, purse and phone. Taking a lighter from my purse, I lit the paper napkins I used in the sink and watched them burn. My heart was racing. I needed to get out of here but I needed to be smart about it, make sure I covered my tracks in case someone found Boris before his brother or father. My prints weren’t in any database, but I didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

Slipping everything into my purse, I made my way to the mirror at the entry of the suite, replacing my wig I gave myself a onceover. My black dress camouflaged any blood spatter and my skin had been rubbed clean. I appeared to be a normal club girl as long as no one looked too close. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door with my arm, careful not to get my prints on the handle and slipped out into the hallway.

I moved quickly to the elevators using my knuckle to press the call button, conscious not to fidget or make any unnatural or nervous movements in case someone approached. Taking the elevator would run the risk of more people seeing me but if someone witnessed me taking the stairs down thirty two floors it would be far more suspicious.

The doors opened and thankfully there was no one in the elevator. Pressing the button for the underground garage I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors started to close. It was short lived though, because at the last second a hand flew into the space between the doors causing them to open again, and my gaze followed the hand right up to the ice blue eyes of Ivan Kashnikov.