Niccolo Fierri [Book #2]

Chapter 18

Niccolo's POV
My entire body ached. I had two black eyes, a broken hand, a swollen jaw, and cigarette burns all over my chest. It's been three days of this nonstop torture. I don't remember the last time I ate, had a drink of water, or even been outside.

I almost forgot what the outside even looks like because all that surrounds me is darkness, a bright lamp light shining in my face, and a group of men with the intent to harm.

Footsteps echo throughout the darkness. I squint my eyes to try and get a glimpse at the dark figure approaching me, but can't see past the blinding light.

The dark figure emerges into the light, an old face staring down at me. Sin. I eye the knife in his hand, and the nefarious smile on his face.

"This has been fun Niccolo, but I think it's time we give your brothers a reason to return the girl."

Gripping the knife, he doesn't hesitate to penetrate my flesh with sharp blade. A grunt is punched out of me, blood seeping from the right side of my abdomen and into a pool around me.

It didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would until he began twisting the blade against the bones of my ribcage. Grinding my teeth, I held in the wail of pain trying to surface.

He rips the blade from my side only to peirce the center of my abdomen. Another grunt is forced out of me.

Blood spews from my lips, the sound of my flesh squelching and crunching against the sharp knife filling the silence. He begins twisting the blade, making sure I feel every scrape and cut.

It's exactly what I would have done if I were holding someone hostage. It's not nearly as fun as when you're on the receiving end. But then that's the whole point right?

He does this repeatedly, impaling parts of my chest like he's expecting water to come pouring out. I sit there, taking the pain. My father would've been proud. That son of a bitch.

Yanking out the blade, Sin grabs at my hair tugging my head back so I'm forced to stare him in his brown eyes. "Are you ready to speak, Niccolo?"

I don't say a word. So he takes his frustration out on my face. His fist darkens my eyes and puffs up my face. Pain shoots up my neck from the way my head jerks left to right from his continuous blows.

My vision starts to blur, my eyelids growing heavy. I can barely keep my eyes open. As soon as I close my eyes, the sound of a little boy's voice fills my ears.

"Papa?"

I open my eyes to see a little boy standing in the corner entrance with a fear all too familiar in his eyes.

It's the exact same face I made when I found my father torturing and beating a man to death. When he caught me watching him, he made me watch.

Instead of comforting me and protecting my innocence, it became a teaching lesson for him. From then on, me as well as my other brothers were expected to watch.

I still remember how young Luciano and Cesare were at the time. I think they were five at the time. I wanted to shield their eyes, but our father wouldn't let me.

Sin stops what he's doing and shifts to look at his boy. He didn't look much older than Marcellius did when our father first made us watched.

The boy looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years of age. Still pretty young in my eyes. He doesn't need to see this. It will change him forever. It changed me.

"Go back to bed son," Sin says firmly. He glared at him, making it clear that he won't repeat himself a second time. The boy takes the hint and scurries off to what I assume is his room.

There's no fatherly look in his eyes when he turns his attention back to me. I'm met with the same sinister face I've known since I was a boy and my father was running the Mafia.

"Now, where were we?" He tugs at my hair harder, exposing my neck to him. He presses the knife into my neck, the glistening, sharp blade digging into my skin. "Ah, that's right," he says remembering. "I was about to kill you and send you to your family in a box."

He's seconds away from ending my life, but a gunshot goes off. He stumbles back, clutching his arm as he grunts and groans in pain. He's shot again only this time it's in his leg.

He drops to the floor like a limp noodle and clutches his leg. Multiple dark figures step into the light. I swallow hard when I see my brothers, my family before me.

Pulling out a pocket knife, Luciano cuts through the rope strapping me to the chair. The rope pops free. I want to stand, but don't have the energy to. My mouth is dry, I'm weak, and my head is throbbing.

Marcellius aims his gun at Sin's head, ready to pull the trigger and end him and this historical fued once and for all.

I almost let him, but then remember about his son, and how I felt when my father died and left me. "Marcel don't," I say weakly. "He has a boy."

Marcellius blinded by fury snaps his eyes up to me. "Nic, look at yourself. This piece of shit doesn't deserve to live."

"And the boy doesn't deserve to be without a father. You and I both know what that's like."

I'm not normally the one to prevent someone from facing a much earned consequence, or to pass on the opportunity to torture them, but after I saw that boy and the look in his eyes... I just can't. I won't allow it.

"We'll get our revenge someday fratello(brother), it just won't be today."

"What the hell happened to Niccolo, our erratic, angry crazed brother?" Cesare asks, jokingly. He just as shocked as me.

I guess change is possible.

"Get me the hell out of here, before I change my mind," I retort. I'm in too much pain to be in a joking mood right now. They all nod and help me to my feet. Each step feels like I'm walking on nails. I can hardly keep upright.

We exit the house, unconscious bodies of Sin's men splayed on the ground around us. "Can we at least take one of them home?" I ask, the urge to return what they've done to me tenfold.

"We've already got one in the trunk for you," Marcellius says, breaking away from me to open the car door to his limo.

"He's gift wrapped and everything," Cesare adds.

When we get into the car, and start towards home, I notice that Luciano hasn't spoken or said a word to me. He's never been the talkative type, but I still like to know what's on his mind.

He notices me staring and scratches at the nape of his neck awkwardly. He blushes red like he always does, because he's socially awkward. The only person he really talks to is Mia, and sometimes Cesare.

He'd probably talk to his twin more if he wasn't so busy burying his cock in half the women in New York. I should know, because I've done the same. And we've shared a few...

"Aren't you going to say anything, Luci?"

His green eyes slowly rake over the torture marks left behind on my body. His attention lingers on the stab wounds a moment longer, before he looks back up at me.

"I... I just missed you is all." He whispered so softly that I almost didn't hear him. He reaches over me to grab the first aid kit he stowed away under the seat.

Popping it open, his eyes sparkle. He always gets excited whenever he gets to put his medical skills to use, the weirdo. I smile at him and unbutton my top. There's the little brother I know and love.