His Sweet Bonnie

3: Filthy Souvenirs

VINCENZO’S POV

Bonnie’s small freckled face doesn't even try to lower in fear. I've saved a thousand girls, but none has looked at me like they want to unravel me in seconds.

On getting to where she’s crouched, I squat to her level.

Damn, she looks a mess.

Mascara-stained cheeks, smudged makeup, but her eyes… It's untouched. The striking green pair has a soft illuminating hue. High cheekbones, pouty luscious lips, and bob-length air framing her features.

She’s a spitting image of Ross.

“Don Vincenzo,” a scared rocky voice distracts me from picking every single detail of the mystery in front of me. “I’m… we…”

One look is all it takes to shut him up. He takes out a set of keys, fidgeting, and drops it in my palm.

The handcuffs come off, leaving bright red marks on her snow-white skin. The painful contrast is sickening.

I press my eyes close, fighting the urge to run my thumb along her wrist.

Likewise, the cuffs around her ankle come off, but this one seems worse. Red marks not only mar her skin, but leaves small cuts on the area.

My throat tightens in a swallow.

First things first, I shrug off my coat and drape the fluffy overall across her back. It effortlessly engulfs her petite frame. She clutches the coat over her body and gasps softly when I scoop her in my arms.

Dante, my aide, stands behind me, his attention holding down every freaking person in the room. He follows me out to the spot my black SUV is parked. All this while, Bonnie’s burning gaze locks on my face. Her small hands remain pressed to my coat.

“Who are you?” She murmurs after I help her into the backseat of my car. I'm about to shut the door when she speaks again. “Don’t you speak?”

I smirk and shut it anyway.

“De Devil is pleading.” Dante slips his phone into his suit pocket. “He said he had no idea Bonnie was yours.”

I scoff. The ugly Musketeer is scared to leave his basement. “Fly her to New York. I have unfinished business.”

“Si, Don.”

*** ***

The only thing keeping my room from going completely dark is the dim light from my big TV. I pour myself a glass of Louis XIII while watching the breaking news.

‘… According to the reporters on the scene, Mr. Duke’s armless corpse was found in front of the State’s Museum. The security camera was breached, and so far, there are no witnesses.

With Mr. Duke’s ongoing trial for physically assaulting his girlfriend, the 27-year-old Hannah Bradson, to her sudden death, and following the pattern of missing body parts, his death is allegedly being linked to the world’s most notorious killer, Mr. Slayer…’

I drink to the news, and still watch the lady announce the tripled bounty on Mr. Slayer’s hunt.

There’s a sudden break, the news comes right up, but this time, with the news of twenty-two men found dead in the underground basement of the City’s infamous Kingpin, De Devil. He’s now being looked for all over the United States.

‘… Seven girls were rescued during the raid—’

I gulp the last of my shot and stroll down to my mother’s room.

My heart feels heavy, it always does whenever I approach her quiet room, knowing the heartbreaking image I’m about to see.

I knock once. “È Vincenzo.”

The traditional silence follows. I get into her brightly lit room, and as usual she’s in her rocking chair, mute, eyes looking ahead with zero emotion.

It breaks my heart, over and over again, especially because I’m the cause of her mental instability. 10 years ago, Padre died in a car crash, his brakes were tampered with. In retaliation, I avenged his death and became the City’s Don. It was supposed to be the end of a chapter, except they tracked my little sister and killed her.

It was brutal, fierce.

Madre never looked at me the same way again. Her warmth died with her grief. Her muteness started with inaudible murmuring.

“Madre,” I carry her up from her rocking chair and help her onto her bed.

She’s already cleaned up and dressed for bed by the caregiver, and her medications given accordingly. I tuck her into bed and stay by her side.

“We have new souvenirs, Madre.” I stroke her white hair off her face.

Somehow, I believed killing the bad guys helped her cope. I had killed my sister’s murderers, mutilated their body parts according to the degree of their murder; hands for beating, d**k for f*****g, and it goes on. It was supposed to end with Bella’s murderers, except I found a sick obsession with it.

With the broken justice system, I hunted psychopaths who killed helpless women and helped their family get justice. It was one death, then two, until I became the most sought-for anonymous slayer. To the government, I’m a demented psycho, but to the people, I’m the Karma they hope for, their last cry of justice.

My phone buzzes.

It's Dante.

I slip the phone back in the pocket of my slacks, and pull the blanket over Madre’s body. “Ti amo,” I plant a soft kiss on her forehead, ensuring her emergency bell is next to her before I turn off the light.

“We have a situation.” Dante says as soon as I step out. “You’ll need to see for yourself.” He finishes.

Leading the way, he takes me down the silent hallway. His face is unusually straight, I know what it means.

“Say it.” I break the silence.

“You killed them, didn't you?” He spins to face me, jumping on my order as if waiting all his life to yell at me. “The deal was to save her!” He stops and lowers his voice. “Don’t you think you’re stirring chaos?”

I tsk. “When have I ever loved peace?”

As if frustrated, he shakes his head and groans as we continue the walk down to Bonnie’s quarters. Surprisingly, she’s not in her room. I hear her voice from the balcony, and double my pace.

Still in my coat, she’s stubbornly perched on the railing and babbling non-stop to one of my soldiers.

‘Not now.’ I sigh to myself and watch her theatrics. I didn't bargain on babysitting a firecracker.

On sighting me, she dramatically spreads her arms. “And finally, here comes the almighty Mr. Dumb-o!”

What?!

I c**k my eyebrows and scan her small size. Did she just call me Dumbo?

She makes an imaginary drum roll. “Guess what? Your minions won't speak as well.”

Minions?! f**k!

Dante groans beside me.

This small lady has stepped on so many toes in one sentence.

“I don't care about the buffet and bubble bath, and mansion!” She rolls her small head, bouncing her hair as a result. “If you don't tell me who you are and why you saved me, I’m jumping off this balcony!”

Hmm… Interesting.

With both hands in my pockets, I take gentle strides towards her.

“Don’t come closer! I mean it!” She yells.

When I don't stop, she swiftly looks over the railing and I can swear she gasped.

“Mr. Dumb-o!” The small crack in her voice slips out.

I bridge the gap, close enough to smell her masked terror. She steadily grabs the railing like she’s so scared of death.

“I’m glad you find this funny!” She thunders.

Oh, my jaws snap back to the stern face. I didn't even realize I was smiling.

“You could go head first, puff, brains out.” I make a little explosive sign with my long fingers and her breathing hitches. “Or, legs first, and you’ll end up with up-to-the-knee amputation, just ensure you don't shake mid-air, else you’ll get a few broken ribs—”

“Are you insane?!” She jumps at me in an attempt to slam her fist in my chest.

I grab her wrist and smack her small size against my body.

“Ah.” She groans, head snaps up to roll her big eyes at me.

It doesn't even take much to see the top of her head, and she’s pressed to me like a smashed marshmallow. It's been a while since I found my height intimidating. I stop the smile from creeping up my lips.

For odd seconds, I find the struggle annoyingly good. Her hand twists in mine, the softness rubbing against my rock-hard palm. She breaks my grasp, but that’s the most she can get away from me.

“Don Vincenzo,” my cold tone rings down her spine.

“So,” she tips upward.

Does she ever stop talking?

“When do you fly me back to the States? I need to fix things and get back to my Nana—”

“You’re my slave now.” My shocking response shuts her up. “And you’ll do what I say.”

I watch color drain from her face. Good. I've gotten her at the exact place I need her to be; a key to her late father’s secret safe. In it are documents that may ruin me.