Chapter 9 - Cute for a Gangster

Marco

»»»◈«««

I drove the knife into his hand, relishing the sickening squelch as it pierced flesh. His screams were feeble, pathetic. Prolonged torture does that to a man.

For once, I found myself favoring knives over guns, appreciating their capacity to deliver relentless agony and suffering.

As the blood pooled around his trembling hand, a smirk tugged at my lips. It was a satisfying sight.

For fifteen days, I subjected Georgio Bruno to relentless torment, making sure that every moment was a living hell for him. He would fucking regret the day he ever crossed paths with us, I made damn sure of it.

Day after day, I relentlessly tore into him, exploiting every shred of weakness, every hint of vulnerability, every phobia.

Georgio and his two bastard brothers walked into New York, thinking they could throw their weight around and scare us shitless with their leverage.

The thing is, their leverage was solid. It had the power to tear the Costello name to shreds, to drag us through the