The Devil's Inferno

13| Funeral.

LAZZARO

That girl. The way she stitched me, the way she looked at me while at it was f*****g sexy. I had almost lost control, and it took everything within me to hold back. I never force my way with women. I might be a devil, but I wasn’t that monstrous.

I had been out for days, trying to figure out the motherfucker that sent those bastards to kidnap her. The last guy that I intentionally left alive to question took his own life before I could get anything from him. The mistake I made was not searching his body for weapons, so when he woke up, he cut the rope that was used to tie his hands behind the chair loose with a pocket knife he had in his back pocket.

Fortunately, I figured out that he had cut himself loose before he could escape the building. But the moment my men caught him and tried to take him back to the chair, he suddenly used that same knife to slit his throat, taking his own life.

Whoever sent him probably had a huge leverage against him—most probably his family’s lives—and he would rather die than say anything to me. I didn’t let that stop me from trying to find out whoever kidnapped Alma. I was going to end them for daring to do that. I was the only one allowed to hurt her. No one else had that right.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Who is that?” I groaned out.

The door pushed open and Mario entered. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“Is she?” I raised a brow.

He nodded, “Yes, she’s waiting by the car already.”

I took a last puff on the smoke in my hand and snuffed out the stub on the ashtray. I had been ready for a while now and was waiting for her.

I stood up and straightened my suit jacket. “Let’s go.”

When I got outside, I saw her standing by the car, staring into a blank space. I paused to admire her. She was so f*****g beautiful in the black knee-length dress she wore. Her hair was falling freely over her shoulders. Damn, if we weren’t going for her sister’s funeral, I would’ve taken her back inside and made her beg me to f**k her.

Her gaze suddenly snapped in my direction, and I didn’t know why my heart skipped a bit. That shouldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t have such an effect on me. I was losing the script.

“Good morning,” she said with that sweet voice of hers, and my c**k throbbed in response. I couldn’t wait to f**k the life out of her.

“Get inside the car,” I groaned as I approached the car. I opened the door for her and gestured for her to get in with my head.

Swallowing, she nodded her head and entered. I slipped in right beside her.

The ride to the church was quiet, with her staring out the window all through. When we arrived, we waited in the car for a few minutes so that my men could check the area and make sure that it was clear.

“All clear,” Mario informed me after a while, opening the door for me.

I got out of the car first, then held out my hand for Alma to take. She stared at my hand for a second before swallowing against her throat and hesitantly taking it. The moment she was out of the car, I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer to me.

She let out a gasp and snapped her gaze at me. Her lips bobbed open and closed like a fish as she gazed at me. Did I scare her?

“I will not hurt you,” I assured her.

“I am not afraid of you,” she groaned.

“You should be,” I murmured as we started moving.

Everyone was already seated and the funeral service had already commenced when we got there. All attention was pulled to us when we got there. The second Alma sighted her family, tears sprang out of her face in full force.

“Mama...” she whispered as she yanked my arm away from her waist. I didn’t resist. I allowed her to go without stopping her. I’d have her to myself for as long as I wished anyway.

She slowly walked to the front row where they were and sat between her parents, hugging her mother tightly as they both cried.

I found a place to settle somewhere at the back, my eyes never leaving her. A feeling I couldn’t quite understand tugged at my chest as I continued to watch her cry. Was it pity? Or perhaps, was I sad to see her like that?

It had to be the former.

Either way, I was not supposed to be feeling any of these emotions. I was called the devil for a reason.

***

ALMA

My chest was heavy. I could barely breathe. I could barely think as I held my Mama and cried in her arms. She was also crying. I couldn’t even imagine how much she was hurting right now. She lost both daughters the same day. One to death and the other to a deadly Mafia boss.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I cried. “Everything is going to be fine, Mama.”

“How could fate be this cruel to me?” she cried also. “I lost Matteo first, and now Zita. You are the only one I have left, but I don’t even fully have you. Tell me...” She pulled away from the hug, placing her palm on my wet cheeks. “Is he treating you badly? Is he torturing you?”

My heart broke even harder as I stared into her eyes, which were red with sorrow.

I shook my head and sobbed, “No. Surprisingly, he’s very nice to me.”

Father tried to place his hand on my shoulder, but I yanked it away without hesitation. He was the one who sold me to that devil, so he had no right to touch me.

“I tried. I swear I tried. I begged your father. I cried. I told him I wanted more time with you. But he still signed the contract,” she cried.

“It’s okay, Mama. It’s okay,” I said, patting her back. I was tearing apart from within, but I had to be strong for her. Like me, she had also been through a lot.

“Now, we invite the sister of the deceased, Alma Martelli, to come forward and share a few words about the deceased,” the priest suddenly said, and I snapped my gaze at him. I could barely see him through my teary eyes.

“I thought you would want to say something, that’s why I...” Mama started, but I cut her in.

“Yes, Mama. It’s okay.”

Rubbing my face with the back of my hand, I rose to my feet. Inhaling sharply, I slowly walked towards the altar.

“Zita!” I suddenly heard a voice scream from behind, and I quickly spun around to see who it was. My heart dropped to the bottom of my chest when I saw him stumbling into the church.

Stanley. He was drunk as f**k.

What the f**k was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be here. He would get himself killed.

Without hesitation, I quickly started approaching him to scream some sense into him and drag him out of here before Papa murdered him. Just as I walked past Lazzaro, he leapt to his feet and grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

“I am not running away!” I gritted. “Let me...”

My words were cut short by the sound of a gunshot and a loud scream. My eyes widened in horror when I saw Stanley lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Then I lifted my eyes to see men in black storming into the church with rifles.

“Are we late for the funeral?” one of them grinned.

What the actual f**k!