Punish The Culprit

The former FBI director wants to enter politics, and he plans to use his relatives to achieve this goal.

Christian finally gives me a genuine smile.

"Then we have a deal."

We both stand up, and Christian extends his hand to shake.

"Either way, I sympathize with your plight. I know exactly what it's like to be put in a position you weren't prepared for. The next few months are going to be tough."

"I know." “I’ll take care of my difficult passage once I take care of Vincent,” I state. “How long will it be before you find him?”

“Already did. He’s hiding in a warehouse outside the city. I’ve already ordered a few men to accompany you. He should be fairly easy to defeat. I received some intel before you arrived that the Russos were retreating.”

My eyes widen.

“What?”

I turn to Michael. He’s already grabbing his phone, trying to see if Christian’s words have any weight. I turn back to the man’s even brown eyes.

“I guess they found out you were dating me and realized it wasn't a fight they could win. They're leaving.”

“This isn't normal Russo behavior,” I mutter.

Christian shrugs.

“Fight the battles you can fight today.”

I exhale and narrow my eyes.

“If you knew the Russos were leaving, how the hell did you let me offer you so much?”

“Why the hell not?” Christian says, smiling.

It's a little weird. He used to be a cold, cruel man, I hear. But after meeting his wife and having kids, he's warmed up a lot. I find it strange that a person could change so drastically, and judging by our meeting, he didn't.

"Plus, like I said, I'm sure they're leaving because of us. You should be grateful, De Luca," he tells me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. It's still useful, regardless.

“Great. I hope our partnership will continue.”

He walks around the table and stands in front of me.

“I hope so, too. Like you said, I need people I can trust. You seem like a good guy, Roman. Friends?”

I think about it for a moment. My gaze falls on the brothers, and they both nod encouragingly. It doesn't hurt to have one of the most powerful mafia families in your corner.

“Sure. If you need anything, you can call me.”

He nods.

“Good luck.”

I leave D'Angelo's office feeling a lot lighter than when I came in. The past seventy-two hours have been the worst days of my life, but it's all about to end. I can feel it.

As soon as I step outside D'Angelo's building, I find myself face-to-face with about a dozen men. One of them comes up to me, introduces himself as Slade, and tells me they're all at my service.

Michael and Tony are already making calls to everyone available. We head to where Vincent is hiding, and when we get there, he'll be easy enough to catch. He's practically given up. He's always been a smart man. He's made some stupid decisions, but he knows when to walk away.

Some of the men accompanying him resisted, but they were quickly eliminated. It won't be long before we subdue them all. Vincent is transferred to our base.

Something inside me is boiling and rising. It's almost over.

Salvador is already in the torture room, where there is a round table and many torture devices. His eyes are stern as I approach him and nod briefly. He is an old man of about fifty, with gray, dark hair and green eyes, very similar to his daughter's eyes.

He has proven how noble and devoted he is with the events of the last three days. I am glad that he is still here, even if my father is not.

His jaw clenches as Vincent is brought into the room. The man is surprisingly calm. He has the look of a man who has accepted his fate. If only it were that easy. Tony kicks him to his knees before walking over to the table and grabbing one of his knives.

It seems Christmas has come early. Tony can be quite the wild man. I’ve never seen anyone take such joy in bloodshed as he does. It’s as if he has two personalities, and he prefers to keep his sister and the women in his life away from his darker tendencies.

“Vincent,” I begin. “Anything to say?”

He clenches his jaw, stares resolutely at the floor, and doesn’t answer. The anger I’ve been trying so hard to suppress flares up. I walk over to him, snatch the knife from Tony, and plunge it into Vincent’s side. He howls in pain.

“If I'm fucking talking to you, you're talking back. Do you understand me?” I yell.

His face is pale. He finally looks at me, and I'm glad to see some fear in his eyes.

“Fuck you, Roman. I practically raised you.”

That was the wrong thing to say. The knife in my hand clattered to the ground, and my hands curled into fists. I punch him in the jaw and keep punching him until he pushes me away.

“Control yourself, Roman,” Salvador says in my ear. “He can't die that easily.”

I run my hand through my hair, worried. When I look away, Salvador takes my place and stops in front of the bloodied man.

“You killed Ricardo,” he begins. “When I first heard you were planning on going after him, I hoped you wouldn’t be stupid enough to cross the line. He would have spared you. Even after what you did, Ricardo would have let you live. Do you know why? Because you were his brother! You were his brother, and you killed him!”

There’s grief in his voice. I can understand where Salvador is coming from. The relationship he had with my father and Vincent is similar to the one I had with Tony and Michael. And now one of his brothers is dead, and the other is to blame.