Diavolo

xlv

SILVIO

Love made you do stupid shit. I'd heard this countless times, never truly believed it to be true until today. It did truly indeed make you do stupid shit. Stupid shit like killing almost half of the Famiglia in search of all the traitors within the ranks of the Mafia.

        A traitor like Marco who'd grew under my nose, against the idea of the Mafia having a woman like Presley married to me.

I'd suspected there were more traitors within the Famiglia, but I never thought they could carry out such as elaborate plan like Marco.

Everything tied back to him. The copycat stalker he'd thrown in our paths, Rufus who was nothing but an obsessed boy who'd never hurt her but was roped along with his plan. All because he hated the idea of Presley.

When he'd shot Presley in the stomach, I couldn't think logically because the next thing I knew, I took the gun from Rufus dead body and ripped two bullets into his head.

It was downright idiotic because I wasn't thinking, wasn't comprehending anything because all I was focused on was her. Or lack of her.

        Fuck, I wanted to bleed him dry, make him suffer but instead, I gave him a clean break with a bullet shot.

I grabbed a clean towel from the chair, wiping the blood off my hands as I walked out of the warehouse. A grunt escaped my throat as I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure propped against my black Audi. Beast.

He took one look at me, shook his head disapprovingly and sighed. "You can't just go around killing people, Silvio."

Throwing the towel at his face, I raised a brow. "Can't I?" As far as I was concerned, I was the damn Don, I could do anything fucking thing I wanted.

He peeled the towel from his face and shot me a disapproving look. Whatever. I made a move to enter my car, but he blocked me with a hand, side-stepping me.

"What the fuck do you want, Beast?" I asked my voice filled with irritation and patience hanging on by a thin thread. Both were a cocktail recipe made for disaster.

He knew better than to fucking piss me off right now especially with all that'd gone down in the last hour. Presley fucking taking a bullet for me, ending up in the emergency room and it'd been more than five hours, and she hadn't come out of surgery yet.

I was fucking pissed, on edge and anxious and all together, I couldn't imagine why she would do such a reckless thing as taking a bullet.

It made me want to choke her and do other things that would make the woman understand that her fucking life was more important than anything else I'd ever hold value.

There was no reason for me to keep breathing... keep existing if she wasn't alive.

        Fuck. Damn her.

"Silvio." Beast's calm and collected voice called out to me, drawing me out of my thoughts. "That shoulder of yours.."

I glanced down at my wrapped shoulder. "Just a flesh wound."

He nodded and pulled out a pack of Marlboro from his pocket, offering me a cigarette. "Let's talk, buddy."

I shook my head, declining his offer. "Nah."

"To a cig?" He scoffed, audible disbelief coating his voice but regardless he fished out a lighter from a pocket and lit the cigarette. "When did you stop smoking?"