The Mafia Contract Series

ALESSANDRO

We follow my grandfather outside and the usual buggy is waiting to take us the short distance to the headquarters. It’s the building set some way from the house that he prefers to conduct his business in. A huge space constructed to look like a separate house, but inside the rooms are concrete and steel. The old Italian façade of a traditional building is a cunning disguise for what goes on inside.

As we exit the buggy, the cameras set up all around the perimeter follow our progress and as we enter through the huge oak studded door, I take in a breath of pure evil. Tormented souls, centuries old, scream at us to go back because one thing’s certain in this crypt of the damned, you only get out if my grandfather says so.

Angelo is silent as we make our way down the dark, foreboding corridor to a steel door at the end, which is one of many that occupy this building. Offices, cells and the hospital, as my grandfather refers to his torture chamber, all make up a floor plan any realtor would run from screaming for salvation.

“Buona sera, Don Majerio.”

The enforcer nods with respect and my grandfather says in his deep authoritarian voice, “Antonio, I trust our guest is waiting.”

He nods and swings open the door, allowing us to pass through and I blink in disbelief when I see the unexpected frail body sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the dank, depressing room.

Strip lighting gives no indication of what time of day it is, and the polished marble floor is the best possible surface to clean the remnants of a person’s body from life.

The walls are concrete and appear old and crumbling under the weight of the horrors it’s witnessed through the years. However, the current resident of this halfway house to hell commands my attention because slumped in the chair and appearing as if he died already, is Massimo Delauren.

Once powerful Mafia Don feared and respected throughout the world is hovering between hell and damnation as he appears to be dead already.

“What’s this?” I hiss and my grandfather shrugs, heading over to the wheelchair and jerking his thumb toward his guest.

“What’s left of a tyrant, I’m guessing. Whatever your woman gave him did our job for us.”

“What do you mean?” Angelo growls beside me because this is an anti-climax of the most frustrating kind.

A man steps forward who hovered close to the walls, wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard of all things.

“Um, Doctor Giovanni, sir.” He stutters, glancing between us all and my grandfather says pleasantly, “Luca, why don’t you bring my grandson and our distinguished guest up to speed on the patient’s progress?”

Clearing his throat, the doctor looks down at his clipboard more for reassurance, I’m guessing, because both Angelo’s and my own anger are filling the space with rage and retribution.

“It appears the gentleman suffered a massive stroke. His brain activity is normal, but his body is paralyzed. He has no control of it and is locked inside his own body with no hope of recovery.”

“A stroke?” Angelo says in disbelief. “Can he hear us?”

The doctor nods.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?” I growl, moving closer to peer into the eyes of the man I wanted to tear apart personally.

“His brain function is normal, and he reacts through expression in his eyes. He understands everything but has no way of communicating.”

“Will he survive?”

I am keen to hear the answer to this because if he dies before I’ve made his life a living hell, I’ll consider him lucky.

“He could live several years in this state. It’s the worst kind of condition for the person affected this way. If the patient is left, they will die naturally, but if they are fed intravenously and monitored, they could live out the rest of their days for several years.”

“So, Alessandro, Angelo.”

My grandfather looks at us with interest. “The question is, what do you want to do about this interesting development?”

I glance at Angelo and his eyes mirror mine. The pain in them too raw to let Massimo dodge our particular brand of justice even though it appears he already has. He will never experience the pain of being tortured to death. Never discover what it’s like to be cut apart, piece by piece. Whatever we do to him won’t affect him at all and I never believed for one moment I would be faced with a decision like this.

Angelo stands before him and stares into Massimo’s eyes and the dark stare he gives him makes my soul cower in fear.

“He will pay regardless.” Angelo hisses and his lip curls in disgust as he addresses the man himself.

“You took something that belonged to us, and you broke her. She is safe now and will heal and become the kind, loving, beautiful woman she is inside. You will not. You will suffer for as long as I say you will, knowing your own wife now lies in another man’s bed.”

I glance up in surprise as Angelo reveals the path this is going to take and just the pain in Massimo’s eyes tells me his words have found their mark.

I step forward.

“Don Sontauro is right. Imogen is married to a Bratva Don and loves him with all her heart. She hated you, detested you, and couldn’t wait to escape.”

Only the madness in Massimo’s heart is preventing him from seeing the facts. He truly believed Charlotte was his wife, despite having buried his own wife years ago. He imagines she lives and that will be his greatest pain picturing her with another man, just as I had to do when he took Winter from me. I understand the pain of that and the nightmares it brings, knowing there is nothing you can do about it.

Angelo curls his lip in disgust and delivers blow upon verbal blow.

“Her husband has taken your empire and together they command your army and run your businesses. They live in your home and enjoy the luxuries you paid for, knowing you will rot to death picturing their happiness. They laugh at you, and they have been laughing at you the entire time. How does it feel knowing they pity rather than fear you?”

We both lean forward and stare into his eyes, and I see the pain cutting him up from the inside out. It’s obvious and yet we’re not lifting a finger to touch him. It’s interesting how much more effective the mind is as a weapon, especially when his was scrambled years ago.

“Just so you know, Massimo…”

I spit in his eyes. “I have my woman back by my side. Winter is safe despite what you did to her, and you will never hurt her again. Oh, and if you think this is over, it’s only just begun.”

Angelo nods. “You don’t deserve death. You deserve to be locked into your own mad brain and live with yourself for eternity. For now, we will leave you with your nightmares, knowing you are powerless against them. Say hi to your new home, Massimo, because you only get to leave when we’ve had our fun. Then we will pay for you to rot in hell inside an institution and pay them well to keep you alive for as long as possible.”

My grandfather laughs but it has no humor in it and he comes and stands beside us, also peering into Massimo’s eyes.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s interesting how men who think they are great are often confused by their own reflection. There are four of us in this room who command and determine people’s fate. We believe we have that right. We do not. But we do it anyway. That’s why we have no mercy, Massimo. You may consider we are brothers in arms, following the same path. You stumbled on yours years ago and somehow the evil in you manifested into madness. Some may say you put a dog down when it loses its mind. Those people are good people and we have just established we are not. Evil against evil, nobody will ever win, but in your case, we already have.”

He turns to us and snarls, “Have your fun then move him out. He offends my eyes and just knowing he is here causes a cancer in my beautiful home. Only great men deserve great endings. He has proven he doesn’t deserve that title.”

With one last disgusted look, my grandfather turns and leaves the room and, as the door slams behind him, I say to the doctor. “Keep him alive.”

As we turn away, I expect my heart to be lighter, relieved even, as if justice has been done. I’m not surprised to find I’m not even close to that. Massimo’s last days on earth will turn into years because I have no humanity left inside me where it concerns him.