Chapter 6

Unspoken Truths - Chapter 6

Damian

It was almost 1 a.m., and the hospital was eerily quiet. I had been sitting with Sareena for hours. She was still not conscious, and every second she stayed like that felt like an eternity.

My men had been stationed throughout the floor; with the room Sareena had originally been placed in now serving as their private quarters. I didn’t care how much the hospital charged us; I needed her fully guarded.

I was lost in thought when my phone buzzed. A text from Matthew.

Matteucci’s are vacationing, but the Catalano’s have made it to dinner. Been in H2H since early evening. You should get to them soon. Presents have been bought.

I don’t know what I’d do without him. Always careful with what he writes. Never know who’s watching or listening. His message meant the Matteucci’s knew we were after them and were hiding. But we had the Catalano’s in a soundproof holding room at Heaven to Hell. The ‘presents’ … well, that meant the tools I needed to make sure Anita didn’t leave out a single detail.

I did one last check on Sareena. She was still lying there peacefully. She had to wake up for me; for us. But right now, I had to do this for her. I needed to take out my anger and get my revenge on Anita. And eventually, on Sophia.

By the time I parked in front of H2H, the club was alive with sound. Moans and screams echoed faintly through the walls. Good, the chaos upstairs would mask anything that might slip through the cracks. Even though the Catalano’s were being held in a soundproof room, I preferred the added security.

The room beneath Heaven to Hell smelled like blood, sweat, and piss. A concrete box with steel beams overhead and a single drain in the center of the floor, stained dark from sins no one wanted to speak of. It’s where we bring problems that can’t be reasoned with.

All four of the Catalano’s: Lorne, Emilia, Eric, and Anita, lay sprawled across the floor, hands and feet bound, duct tape across their mouths, black blindfolds over their eyes. They’d been down here for hours. No food. No water. No words. Just the cold concrete pressing into their stomachs and the silence of their impending fate.

I walked in slowly, every step echoing like a hammer in the room.

“Chairs,” I said.

My men dragged four heavy metal chairs into the room and began hauling each of the Catalano’s upright. They grunted and squirmed as they were yanked off the floor and strapped into place. One by one, the blindfolds were ripped away.

Eric blinked hard, disoriented. Emilia started sobbing instantly. Lorne, ever the idiot, tried shouting through his gag. But Anita? Anita froze. Her eyes darted around before locking onto mine, wide with panic. Prey recognizing the predator in the room. I crouched in front of her, just close enough for her to see every ounce of rage in my eyes.

“Remember what I said to you yesterday?” I whispered, voice calm. “You remember what you did to my Sareena? That pipe wrench you buried in the back of her skull?” She flinched, pale and trembling. I grabbed her chin, hard. “You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t flinch. You could’ve killed her.” I stood. “Un-gag her.”

One of my guys ripped the tape from Anita’s mouth. She screamed through it, raw and panicked.

“I’ll talk; I’ll talk….”

“Not yet,” I spit in her face. “Not so soon.”

I motioned to another man, who brought over a reinforced tin bucket. Inside it, a massive sewer rat writhed, its claws scratching against the metal.

“No,” Anita whimpered, voice cracking. “Please, please…”

I didn’t look at her, just turned to her family. “You’ll all watch. You’ll sit there, helpless; just like I was when your fucking spawn hit my fiancée in the back of the head with a pipe wrench. You’ll feel what it’s like to be powerless. Watching someone you love get destroyed knowing you can’t stop it.”

They thrashed, screamed through their gags. Emilia sobbed so hard her body shook. Eric looked ready to vomit. Lorne’s eyes locked on the rat.

I tore Anita’s shirt and bra right off her body. Baring her breast for everyone to see. I didn’t give a shit about her modesty. “You paid a lot for those?” I say pointing at her tits. “I wonder what our special guest will think.”

Then I nodded. Two of my men grabbed her from behind and threw her onto the desk. Then secured her arms and legs so she was laying spread eagle. Her cries got louder, like she was hoping someone on the outside would hear her. Then the bucket slammed down. Screws were turned. There was only one way out for the rat; through her.

“Please, Damian,” she sobbed. “Please, don’t.”

I held the torch to the bucket. The metal hissed. Popped. And Anita, she screamed as the rat started clawing. I didn’t stop, didn’t even hesitate.

“First question,” I said calmly. “The day of the pool party - who drugged my drink?”

“Janelle did! Janelle Matteucci! It was her family party, and Sophia had something on her. She had to help!” Anita cried between screams of pain.

“Good,” I said. “So, you do know what honesty is.” I crouched again. “Question two. You told Gino I grabbed Sophia and kissed her at the party. You had pictures to prove your narrative. Explain that.”

“Sophia had me ask you to drive me there so she could be sure you were coming alone! Damian, fuck, fuck, it’s clawing into me!” she screamed. “She told a few of us what to look for, and if we saw you two together, we were to take pictures. So, I did!”

“Question three. I left my keys with you so you could bring my car to the office. How did Sophia get them? How did my car end up at my house?”

“Fuck! Damian, please!” Her screams broke into gasps. “I gave her the keys. She drove your car to your place!” Her eyes were glassy. Her face pale and slick with sweat.

I pulled the torch back, just a little. My man cracked the lid just enough to let out some of the heat and toss in in a few ice cubes. This would help with cooling the metal and keeping the rat alive but still very angry.

“Oh, Anita,” I said, almost gently. “That ice feels nice on your skin, doesn’t it? But this is just an intermission.” I turned to her trembling family. “It’s time for the next act. And I’ll let you choose which one of your family members I get to play with.”

Her eyes went wide in terror.

“Your mom?” I asked softly. “The very beautiful Emilia? Maybe your dad, the lowlife son of a bitch who doesn’t even wrap it up when he fucks our whores? Matt, we really should ask my dad how many of our whores have had abortions because of him? Maybe take a finger for each of them?”

Lorne recoils. He is finally understanding the severity of his predicament.

I glanced at Eric. “Or maybe young little Eric?” I smirked. “Too bad. I actually like Eric. But you know what, Anita?” I say turning back to that bitch. I step in close, my voice a roar. “I may like Eric, but I LOVE Sareena!” The entire room flinched.

“So, Anita,” I say, voice low and cold. “Which one of your family members should pay for your sins? Pick now or I’ll make sure all four of you end up with a fucking bullet in your heads before the session’s over.”

I let out a short laugh. This situation is not funny, but the mind fuck is working. The tension in the room is so thick it could choke someone. They’re breaking. I won’t ever touch Emilia or Eric. I know they are both innocents, but they don’t know that.

“Hurry the fuck up. I need to get back to the hospital,” I snap, voice rising to a roar that shakes the air around us.

Anita’s sobs choke her throat. “Daddy… I’m so sorry, but… it has to be Daddy. Mom and Eric can’t take it. I’m sorry, Daddy!” Her voice cracks as she screams the words. Lorne protests and jerks in his chair, thrashing, cursing beneath his gag.

My men move quickly, dragging Lorne’s chair to the center of the room and placing it directly in front of the table. I roll the padded office chair to the opposite side, taking my seat so we’re facing each other.

Matt takes my old position beside Anita, the blowtorch in hand, flame ready, his patience gone.

“Okay, Anita,” I say with a smirk. “Intermission’s over.”

Just as I lean forward, the large heavy door behind me swings open with a bang. Vincent strolls in, looking like he just stepped off a dance floor, tight black shirt, chains, cologne thick in the air. “Did I miss the party?” he grins. “Reens is my friend too. I wanna help.” He’s way too excited.

I get up and turn toward Vincent. “Always know how to make an entrance,” I say, laughing at his eagerness. “I’ll actually let you do the honors. I’d like to devote more of my unwavering attention to Anita.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I walk over to Matt. He hands me the torch, and without missing a beat, takes his place behind Lorne, anchoring him to the chair.

“Okay, Anita. Now that intermission is over and our next contestant has taken his seat, we’re going to play another little game,” I say, strolling back toward her.

“Besides Rat Trap on your fake tits, the second game is called Truth: A Little Flesh or Lies: A Lot of Flesh.” I smirk. “Rules are simple. I’m going to adjust our little rat friend, so he’s positioned right above your overpriced silicone tits. Then, I ask a question. As I heat the bucket. You answer and if I believe you, I release a little heat. Vincent over there, he takes part of a finger. But if we think you’re lying?” I glance over at Vinny. “I heat the bucket, and he takes the whole fucking finger.”

I scan the room. Both Emilia and Eric look like they’re about to vomit. Emilia’s lips are trembling, and Eric can’t stop shaking.

Anita tensed under the bucket’s weight, jaw clenched as the rat scratched against the metal. I crouch beside her, voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Anita… how did you know we were on Luca’s plane and arriving back at JFK yesterday?”

“Sophia, she called me the night before and said she needs me to help her prove her lies to Mr. Morelli. Then she said that we need to silence Sareena at all costs and make sure she doesn’t cause issues.” She screams, making sure I hear her.

That rat must be burrowing into her skin. I know she’s telling the truth.

I nod towards Vincent; he snips the tip on Lorne’s finger off, but Lorne screams like he has lost a full limb, not just a tip of a finger.

“Anita, why did you strike MY Sareena in the back of the head with a pipe wrench?” I ask, my voice not hiding my anger anymore.

“Sophia, she signaled me to strike her, and I did. I’m sorry, so sorry, Damian. I don’t know Sareena at all. She never did anything to me. Please, Damian… I’m begging you. Please let me go.”

I keep the torch on the bucket, revelling in the Rat’s screeching because I know it’s digging into Anita. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs now.

I look over to Vincent. He raised the blade and in one brutal strike, severed the tips of all four of Lorne’s fingers. Blood sprayed like a broken faucet. Lorne’s scream was inhuman. I know he hadn’t really done anything to us. But I needed to make an example out of him. Respect only stays in the Familia if you show no mercy to those who cross you. Luca said it. My father said it. Now it was my turn to show it. So, I didn’t hold back. But I did make sure the doc was on standby. I wasn’t a savage. I just knew pain taught better lessons than fear. Lorne only lost the top portion of every finger on his left hand. He’d live.

Anita, though? I didn’t feel a single ounce of remorse.

My men entered the room silently, removed the bucket and the rat. Not a word was spoken. The rat had shredded through her belly like it was nothing. Tore out one of her implants. Her torso looked like a gutted animal. Infected, bubbling with pus.

She was screaming at first. Then crying. Now? Whimpering. Her breaths shallow. Her skin a lifeless gray. But I didn’t care. She had suffered but not enough. Still, I had to put an end to this and head back. I stood over her. Anita’s eyes flickered open, glazed with pain and fear. I raised my gun slowly and aimed it at her head. Calm. Steady. Final.

“Now,” I said, voice low and cold. “You want to tell me what Sophia has on you?”

She coughed. Blood trickled down her lips. “I stole money… from your dad,” she croaked. “She has surveillance footage. She’s been blackmailing me for months.” Her voice broke. Her eyes teared up. She knew this was the end.

Across the room, Vincent locked eyes with me. He gave a slow nod.

“Do it for Reens.”

⸻

I let both Emilia and Eric go after explaining everything; what led to this, explaining how far their family members had fallen. They didn’t fight me.

Poor Emilia. So sheltered she didn’t even know what kind of life her husband and daughter were living behind her back. Finding out Anita was a thief and an attempted murderer? That her husband took comfort in whores more than in his own home? It broke something in her. That family wouldn’t recover anytime soon.