Raise Your Heart

Chapter 2

Dante was out of breath. What the fuck. He wasn't out of shape. This was bullshit. Was it because he was getting older? No. Fuck that. He was only thirty-three. The prime of life. He was in top condition. He wasn't tired. It was dehydration. Had to be, he mused dabbing at his forehead with the silk pocket square from his suit.

Plus, the man in Dante's possession wasn't staying down. Stubborn bastard. That was okay. He needed to work off some steam. This man would serve his purpose well. He signaled to Andrew, his right-hand man.

"Fill the tub."

Dante returned his attention to the traitor who would soon die. It was interesting how many people tried to take advantage of him and his family. So many tried to usurp his position, unsuccessfully. Good help was hard to find, he guessed.

It seemed more and more were coming out of the woodwork too. Every deal that went down seemed to be tainted by a worm. Every bruised apple contained one, he supposed. On the plus side, he was good at weeding them out.

This time, however, it was Gio who caught onto things going south. Dante walked slow circles around the bleeding man slumped over in a chair. His head was hung low with strands of bloody hair plastered against his sweating head. Dante's jaw flexed while he watched the man's labored breath. How amusing it was this man truly believed he could screw over the family without anyone's notice. More amazing than amusing really.

Power and money. That's what it was always about. Every now and then a person would get some hair-brained idea to swindle money or take over. Failures every time. Didn't these people see? Didn't they realize that Joe Schmoe was there one day and gone the next? Maybe he needed to start dumping bodies on doorsteps to get his message across.

Message being, he would never go down. He was unbeatable. Unattainable. Immortale. At least he felt immortal, especially with Andrew and Michael by his side. One would have to go through them before they could touch him.

Plenty of people wanted to get to him too. The Luca family in particular. Ever since Gio eliminated Nick Luca, the family declared war against the Venturis. When that happened, other families wanted in on the action. Everyone must have been bored. Either way, it ended the golden age they had been in. Too bad they didn't realize it was a golden age. No matter.

He'd kill anyone daring enough to cross him. And if everyone had to die, so be it. Every last one. It wasn't like he had anything to live for besides the family business. It was why the Venturis were on top, and always would be.

Dante's sole purpose for living was the business. The mafioso. It was his air, his heartbeat, his soul. The routine was easy. Eat, sleep, work. There was nothing else. Not after she left.

That night, watching her drive past the home he had given to her, they locked eyes. In that moment, he knew. He knew she wasn't going to stop. He knew she was leaving. Ever since that night, he hadn't heard from her. Nor did he have her followed.

She needed to live on her terms. And, it was okay. He'd do anything for her. He loved her. But it didn't mean she didn't rip his heart out. Didn't mean she didn't change him. She did both that night in less than thirty seconds. It was more damage than what has ever been done onto him or what he could ever inflict on another individual.

It was fine. Actually, it was better this way. Long, drawn out tortures were his favorite way to let off steam after all. Sure, he heard the whispers among his men. He heard them talking about how much he changed over the last few years. How much harder he had become. As if he wasn't hard before. What a joke.

"It's filled, boss," Andrew interrupted.

Dante grunted. Pulling the man up by his hair, he hauled him over to the steaming water. The man tried to whisper something, but was incoherent. Dante leaned down, placing his ear by the man's mouth.