My Mafia Madness 3

Chapter 21 - Reaper's Kiss

The drive took a lot longer than Dante remembered it but eventually, they pulled up just out front of the warehouse and the car door was opened for him by Luca.

Climbing out, Dante took a puff of his cigarette while adjusting his trench coat before he and Nicola began marching towards the front entrance.

The white smoke being exhaled from his open mouth wafted along behind him as they moved at a rapid speed.

It appeared that the Don was eager to get this done.

“Everything’s set up.”

Nicola spoke, handing his Don a small black remote with two buttons on it as he began to explain it’s intended purpose.

“The button on the left will activate and manoeuvre through the laptop’s slideshow. The one on the right sets off the bomb.”

“And we’re certain that none of our men will be in the building when it blows?” Dante queried, his mouth wafting with smoke.

“Of course.” Nicola replied briefly.

“Like I said, everything’s ready. All that’s left is for you to try and enjoy yourself, Capo.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Dante replied with a smirk, tossing the rest of the cigarette aside as they marched on into the warehouse through the main entrance.

Once he had removed his trench coat, Dante began rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, as was his routine for visits down in the basement.

Maybe white wasn’t the best colour for him to wear tonight.

Maybe, honestly, he didn’t really care.

Dante just wanted this whole mess with the De Luca’s and his father to finally be over with.

One less enemy he had to keep looking over his shoulders for.

-

Reaching their intended destination, Nicola nodded at one of the many henchmen who nodded back at him while reaching in and opening the door for them.

Dante stepped inside first, followed by Nicola and Luca, along with several others who had been ordered to stand off to the sides unless called for.

The room inside was brightly lit with fluorescent lights and the sound of their continuous ‘hum’ echoed off the walls in the bitter silence of the cell.

Seated in the middle of the room was a rather dishevelled Don Dario De Luca, leaning back against his chair and with his eyes fixated on the Reaper, with every single move he made.

Dario, having not been able to maintain his facial hair or any of his other bodily hygiene, had a rather rugged appearance as a short beard had formed and curved around the side of his face throughout his time as Dante’s captive.

The middle-aged man also appeared malnourished, among other things.

“And how are we doing today, Dario?” Dante mused, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he grinned playfully, stopping right in front of where his foe had been tied to his chair.

As Dante spoke, Luca moved to quickly set up a foldable table in front of where Dario was seated.

Seconds later, Nicola stepped in and placed a laptop down right in front of him, opening the screen before stepping back again.

Glancing at the screen and then back at Dante in question, Dario was understandably confused and suspicious of what was about to happen next.

“I see your beard’s coming along quite well...”

Dante continued to taunt his adversary with playful small talk as he came to stand beside the foldable table.

“Really suits you.”

“Cut the s**t, Romano!”

Dario suddenly snapped with his brittle voice as he gestured with a nod of his head towards the laptop placed before him and asked his next question.

“What the hell is this?”

Dante frowned; feigning hurt from Dario’s words.

“Well, you have been down here for quite a while now.” the Reaper announced solemnly.

“I thought it only fair to keep you updated with the outside world and current events.”

With that, he used his remote to activate the laptop, turning on the screen and displaying the first thing he wished Dario to see.

It was a news article done in the Corriere della Sera, a popular Italian newspaper, and it had today’s date displayed at the top.

December 22nd, 2022.

Narrowing his eyes as he struggled to focus on the headline, Dario took his time to read it to himself before his eyes suddenly widened with disbelief and horror.

The headline read;

‘Mafia Gunfight Claims the Life of Don’s Eldest Son’.

Reading on from where he sat restrained in his chair, Dario’s heart plummeted as he read the name in the article.

And with it, his greatest fears had been confirmed...

‘Leonardo De Luca was one of many victims in this vicious shootout, claiming the lives of over twenty-seven men...’

Suddenly, it had become a lot harder for him to do something as simple as breathe and Dario lowered his head in a strange mixture of painful confusion and bewilderment.

“Non può essere vero...”(It can’t be true…) he whispered to himself in Italian, resorting to his native language in such sudden despair.

Pursing his lips together, Dante fought back a smile before he spoke.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” the Reaper gloated heartlessly.

Lifting his head up and meeting Dante eye to eye, Dario had a sudden sense of defiance radiating from him.

It was disbelief.

He wouldn’t take his enemy’s word on such a serious matter!

“That is not proof Leonardo is dead!” the Don spat angrily.

“Your men could have doctored that article. The whole thing could be entirely fabricated-”

His words died in his open mouth as his eyes locked onto the next slide now showing on the laptop’s screen.

Dario could feel his heart thudding loudly, over and over within his head as he stared ahead at the pale and lifeless body lying on a silver slab in the image now displayed before him.

It was an autopsy photo, taken at the morgue by the officials over in Italy.

How Dante and his men had managed to get their hands on it was another matter.

But Dario recognised his oldest son almost immediately by the wolf tattoo marking his left shoulder and coming down over his left pectoral.

There was no doubt whatsoever within his mind that this deceased man was his beautiful boy, now taken from him in their ongoing war for power.

A single white sheet modestly covered Leo’s body from his waist down, but Dario noticed that his entire chest had been riddled with dark holes; they were bullet wounds.

Clear evidence of how he had died.

Closing his eyes, a stray tear escaped through his lashes and rolled down the side of his dry face before he reopened them, slowly.

Fighting the sobs that threatened to emerge from his parted lips, Dario kept his head down as he spoke to his rival Don.

His voice showed his deepened sadness and despair.

“What… what do you want?” he managed to get out with difficulty.

Coming to sit down on the edge of the foldable table, Dante looked down at his former opponent and began to speak with an aura of authority; clearly having the upper hand now.

“I’ll keep this simple. You will call your son Santo, now, with this phone...” Dante commanded, placing a burner phone down onto the table in front of the laptop.

“You will tell him that the war with the Romano’s is now over. That he must cease the hit he has out on myself and my fiancé indefinitely.”

Dario continued to listen as Nicola began to cut away at his right hand’s restraints, allowing him the ability to make the call as instructed.

The rest of his limbs remained bound for obvious reasons.

“And if I don’t?” Dario challenged, clearly testing boundaries here in his given situation.

Dante chuckled softly, amused by the defiance.

“You’ve seen what I can do, Don De Luca…” he counter challenged the older Don, lifting his left brow.

“Do you really want to find out?”

“It won’t matter anyway. My son is stubborn, like his old man.” Dario announced.

“He will come for me whether I tell him to or not.”

Somehow, suddenly, this conceited fool believed himself to have the upper hand once again and Dante seemed intrigued.

Perhaps it was time for him to play the ace up his sleeve after all.

“Very well. I didn’t want to do this, but…” Dante announced, shaking his head as he stood up and pressed the left button once more.

“…I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.”

Once more the laptop came to life with what appeared to be a live video of a chair positioned in the middle of a dark room, somewhere.

Dario could feel his heart beginning to race once more as he watched the screen in hesitance and fear; fear of what would happen next.

The Reaper was indeed merciless.

“No! Toglimi le tue fottute mani!”(No! Get your f*****g hands off me!)

The suddenly familiar voice had Dario instantly sitting up straight in his chair as he stared in desperation at the screen, waiting to see her face.

“No, no, no…”

As he watched on, he whispered to himself in fear.

Two men wearing black balaclavas dragged in none other than his own daughter, Cellina, forcing her down into the chair.

“Cellina!” Dario cried out in obvious fear, not knowing if she could hear him or not.

“La mia bellissima bambina...” (My beautiful baby girl…)

“No, don’t-mmmph! Mmm!”

Cellina cried out right as one of the men worked to silence her with a torn piece of duct tape over her mouth.

Tears strained her already dirty face, her brown eyes stared ahead at the camera propped up in front of her as she was forcefully tied down to the chair she was now seated on.

“What is this? What are they doing to my daughter?” Dario demanded, turning to look at his captor in concern.

“Just a little persuasion.” Dante announced snidely.

Furrowing his brows inwards at the Reaper’s vague words, Dario returned his gaze towards the screen and noticed that the two men were now hooking what looked like an IV up to Cellina intravenously.

“What is that?” he questioned, struggling from his restraints.

“What are they giving her?”

Dante leaned in a little, looking his enemy square in the eye as he gave his reply completely void of emotion or feeling.

“A little mixture I’m proud to call my own. I call it Reaper’s Kiss.” Dante explained proudly.

“Is it poison?” Dario countered fearfully.

“It is… and a rather toxic one at that.” Dante replied dryly.

“It won’t take long before it hits the blood stream. Then from there, it begins to shut down each organ, one by one until all that’s left is the heart… and eventually, her heart will explode.”

“No, please!” Dario began begging now, but Dante stood firm.

“Like I said… it’s all in the art of persuasion.” the merciless Reaper reminded.

“Persuasion for what!” the older Don demanded, angrily now.

“What the f**k do you want?”

Without speaking, Dante simply lifted the burner phone up from the table and held it out for Dario to take from him.

“Make the call, Dario…” the Reaper mused.

“And you might still save your daughter.”

Glancing from the phone held out towards him and the screen now behind it, Dario didn’t have to think before his freed hand moved out to grasp it and he began dialling the number from memory alone.

Lifting it up to his ear, Dario’s eyes narrowed in fury at his captor, as Dante sat by in silence with a sinister smirk still showing on his handsome face.

Dante’s facial hair, unlike Dario’s, had been recently seen to.

It took around six rings before the other end finally answered and the voice of Santo De Luca spoke cautiously.

“Chi è?” (Who is this?) Santo demanded.

“Figliolo, sono io. È tuo padre.” (Son, it’s me. It’s your father.) Dario announced solemnly.

“Padre? Sei vivo! Dove sei? Quanti uomini hanno? Cosa possiamo fare-” (Father? You’re alive! Where are you? How many men do they have? What can we-)

As much as it hurt him to do so, Dario cut in over his son’s frantic questions as they were fired off, one by one within a matter of seconds.

“-Santo, SANTO! Per favore, devi ascoltare, figliolo. Questo è importante...” (-Santo, SANTO! Please, you must listen, son. This is important...)

“Sì, padre.” (Yes, father.) Santo’s tone now showed fear as he listened on the other end of the line as instructed.

“Io...” (I…)

Dario paused for a moment, taking another look across at Dante seated in front of him before he sucked up his foolish pride and finished what he had to say.

“Ho bisogno che tu annulli la guerra con i Romano...” (I need you to call off the war with the Romano’s…)

It hurt the older Don to say such words from his own two lips, but he had no other choice.

He gave Dante one last glare as he spoke his next word aloud.

“…Tempo indeterminato.” (…Indefinitely.)

In silence on the other end of the line, Santo couldn’t believe what he was hearing right now!

There was no way his father would give such a command, not with the Romano’s responsible for Leo’s murder!

“Non capisco... Padre, cosa stai dicendo? Vuoi che ci fermiamo-“ (I don’t understand… Father, what are you saying? You want us to just stop-)

Santo began his queries, but his father suddenly grew furious, filled with burning rage and fear of what would happen to his little girl should this not work.

“-Chiama i fottuti colpi! Sia sul Mietitore che sulla sua donna!FALLO ORA!” (-Call off the f*****g hits! On both the Reaper and his woman! DO IT NOW!)

“Ok, ok... Farò la chiamata ora.” (Ok, ok… I’ll make the call now.)

Santo spoke as if to assure his old man, who was clearly concerned about something of importance.

Santo could hear it in his father’s voice. That panicked expression.

Throughout the conversation, Dario continually watched Cellina through the laptop’s screen and could now see that she was sobbing, preying for forgiveness and deliverance.

It was almost as if she knew she were about to die.

“Richiamami su questo numero quando è finito.” (Call me back on this number when it’s done.) Dario commanded before ending the call with but the press of a button.

Now holding the phone in his hand, Dario watched as it was taken from his hand and placed back onto the surface of the foldable table once more.

“There, I’ve done what you wanted!” he commanded angrily at Dante.

“Now release my daughter!”

Dante lifted a single finger up into the air to silence the Don as he spoke.

“Uh-uh… not until we get confirmation.” he reminded with a grin.

“Come on Dario, you of all people know how this works.”

“Cellina does not have time for this s**t!” Dario snapped angrily.

“Give her the antidote-”

“-Confirmation first, old man.” Dante taunted, clearly enjoying the chance to have power over this enemy of his.

“Let’s just hope this son of yours calls us back in time.”

Swallowing nervously, Dario could do nothing but sit and watch as his daughter continued to cry and prey on the screen before him.

His precious little angel.