Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 52

52

OUR TOIL SHALL STRIVE TO MEND

Rio

With the amount of adrenaline coursing through my body, I could probably move a goddamn mountain. I wait in the shadows of the church as Belucci and I discussed at the hospital, while he greets an unsuspecting Benedikt for a last minute father to son-in-law chat. He’s in his tux; they both are, playing their expected roles as if this wedding was still happening and Ivory wasn’t lying in a fucking hospital bed.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Amadeo says breezily, extending his hand to Benedikt.

Koshka takes it and nods in a similar fashion, none the wiser to the fact I’m only ten feet away behind him. “Of course. I was expecting it, frankly.”

“So then you don’t need me to remind you I’m trusting you with the responsibility of taking care of my daughter, correct? Above all else we agreed on, Ivory is number one on the list,” Belucci probes, and again, Benedikt bobs his dark head in concession.

“She’s number one on mine, too, sir. I know we haven’t had a lot of time to truly get to know one another yet, but I’m very much in love with your daughter, and I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. I’d die for her if it came down to that.”

Lying sack of shit.

Hand in my pocket, I’m moving, slithering up behind the snake of a bastard undetected. Ivory’s father grins malignantly as our eyes meet over his shoulder, giving me seconds at best to set the tip of the needle of Benedikt’s neck and expel the tranquilizer.

“Glad you think so, ’cause you’re about to,” I sneer.

“I can’t believe he had me fooled,” Belucci says as he stands beside the railing of the cargo ship treading further into the Atlantic, the sky around us a clear, brilliant blue.

“He had us all fooled,” I state, spinning my ring to keep my hands busy. “My father thought he was green. I underestimated him.”

“And we both put my daughter in harm’s way because of it.” Shaking his head, he sighs and turns to where I stand not far away.

I told him everything in that hospital room, from my and Ivory’s younger years to everything that happened since the fire at Sweet Cheeks—how and why she met Benedikt included. He sat silent throughout it all, listening intently. At one point, he was so eerily still, I half expected him to draw out his weapon and put a bullet between my eyes before I realized it. But the man was the picture of restraint.

“You know, I used to think you were the worst possible thing that could happen to Ivory and now…”

A pregnant pause hangs between us, and when he makes no move to finish the the statement, I nod in understanding.

“I don’t typically like coming off as the weaker party, but in this case, I’ll gladly take it. Ivory and I might’ve had low moments throughout the years but none, however, would’ve resulted in her death at my hands.”

“I would say the cardinal rule likely had something to do with that but based on what I now know, I have a feeling it runs much deeper than that.”

“Always has.” I shrug. “Even before I figured it out.”

I don’t know how much of everything I’ve shared he believes, his eyes—that familiar gold—boring into me as a million questions clearly whirl through his mind. When he looks at me, I see a man concerned, a man torn. So much has happened between his daughter and me, so much bad before the good. How could he possibly take the leap and believe me?

But I see confusion, too. A heaping dose of it. Our families have been at odds since before he was in power. Years and years before. It’s a natural part of our bloodlines to detest the other, to see an enemy rather than a potential ally. I’m not expecting the man to have any faith in me or give me even a shred of his trust overnight, yet the fact he wanted to do this together—hand delivering Benedikt to the gates of hell—tells me there’s hope for a future in which the Guerras and the Beluccis no longer stand opposed, but united.

A force to be reckoned to be with.

“Shall we get on with it?” he motions to Benedikt’s body, unconscious not far away. “I’d like to check on Ivory again before going home to the dog house.”

Pulling the smelling salts free from my pocket, I shake the baggy as a slow-forming, vicious grin tugs the corners of my mouth. “After you.”

Belucci slips out of his tuxedo jacket and frees himself of the bowtie while I crouch beside Koshka and bring the bag to his nose. It takes about thirty seconds before he comes to and peels his eyes open. Groaning, he blinks once, then twice, noticing my presence before Ivory’s father comes into view, too.

“Oh, this is good,” he rasps on a laugh. “Unexpected, but good.”

“Unexpected? Did you think you were going to try killing my daughter, and there would be no consequence whatsoever?” Belucci growls, sending the tip of his Oxford right into Benedikt’s temple before falling to his haunches and delivering three blows to his pretty boy face.

Koshka recoils from the brutal force, cradling his entire head, and yet his laughter grows louder, more prominent. Part of me wonders if he’s really that demented or if it’s a nervous habit. “No, I fully expected it. Didn’t think it would be you, though. Him, on the other hand…” His watery gaze lifts to me, a small stream of blood pouring from his nose. “I was waiting for you all night. What took you so long, Guerra?”

Definitely that demented.

“Can’t say I’m flattered you were so eager to see me that you waited so long, but I do find it comical you think ridding the world of your existence is more important than making sure my girl lived to see another day.”

“Did she… live to see another day?” he taunts, that sick smile spreading his lips.

“Yes.” That’s all I offer. He doesn't need to know anything beyond that. “So now here I am, just like you wanted. Get the fuck up,” I snarl, rising to my full height above him.

The urge to plow my foot into his gut—repeatedly—is strong. Maybe bruise some organs or crack a couple of ribs, but I follow Belucci’s lead and take a step back, allowing Benedikt to join us on his feet. He wobbles slightly and trips a few paces, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

Nothing but open sea.

An hour out from the New York port.

No one for miles to hear his cries.

“I have to admit, I’ve never in all my years been simultaneously so enraged and confused. Why ask to marry my daughter and then try to rob her of her life? Were you hoping the widower card would allow you the freedom to do as you pleased while still having the additional protection against the Guerras?” Amadeo asks, very calmly unholstering his weapon and cocking back the slide.

“On the contrary. I had every intention of marrying her, but she chose him, again,” he sneers the last bit, his blue-eyed gaze laser-focused on me as he says it. “Then, to add insult to injury, she went on a little suicide mission and attempted to poison me. Couldn’t simply turn the other cheek and look past that, now could I?”

The cake.

I was right.

And just like that, all the pieces of the puzzle connect, fusing perfectly within the recesses of my mind. This wasn’t some spur of the moment thing. No, Ivory had been planning his demise the whole time—and I was none the wiser. The agreed upon plan was clearly nothing more than a distraction from her secret scheme, a way to keep me busy. A scheme she concocted purely for the sake of keeping me out of harm’s way. She was firm in her refusal to put me in danger, said she’d be damned if I stood in Benedikt’s line of fire again.

Evidently, my sweet little Petal wasn’t fucking around.

I want to be furious with her, at the fact that she put herself at grave risk, all for me. But I can’t—because I’d do the same.

I always will.

I’ll die a hundred deaths before I let anything happen to her ever again.

“If it’s any consolation to you both, she fought,” Benedikt continues, ripping off his jacket, the white dress shirt beneath now decorated with his blood. “Smashed a lamp right across my head and made a clean break for it. Sadly, I had her keys, cornered her, and shoved my gun so far up her cunt, she had no choice but to swallow down the delicious confection she’d made just for me. I repaid her with a quick fuck after the fa?—”

A deafening bang explodes into the cold, late-autumn air, then a wild howl breaks free as he slumps back down to the ground, a thick, quick moving river of crimson pouring from one of his kneecaps. I hadn’t even seen Belucci aim; that’s how quickly the shot went off.

That’s also how quickly my own rage, spurred on by the vision of Benedikt assaulting Ivory both with and without a weapon, consumes me once again. I don’t bother with the steel at my back. I’m at his side in seconds flat, clenching his pretty boy face in my hand and bashing his head into the ship’s flooring. “Was it worth it?” I growl viciously, losing all sense of everything that isn’t breaking his skull wide open and splattering his brains along with it. “Is it fucking worth it now, you sick piece of shit?”

The second slam draws forth another bellow.

The third produces the ghastly crack of bones.

The fourth draws blood.

After the fifth, I’m pulled off him, my chest heaving violently as Amadeo holds me back.

“Enjoy the sight of it,” he tells me. “Relish his fear, his pain, let it in, allow it to blanket and soothe your wrath. A quick death is far too merciful for a monster like him, Rio. Let him feel it. Let his life ebb away slowly. Painfully.”

“It’s not enough.” I know he’s right, and still I yank myself free, my red-rimmed gaze focused on a writhing Benedikt. “He touched her. He didn’t just try to kill her, he fucking touched her! ”

“And now he gets to fucking die,” Belucci concurs. “Hold onto that. As mind-numbingly infuriating as it is, we can’t change what he did. It’s done, it happened. But Ivory’s safe. Focus on the fact she’s alive because of you, and he’ll never be able to hurt her again.”

This isn’t my style. Not remotely. The demons within me want violence; they crave it. They need it. I don’t want him to die a quick death, either. I want to hear his screams, to hear every bone snap in half as I take a cleaver to his limbs one by one, leaving all the vital pieces for last until he’s begging for the peace of death.

But Belucci’s plan was the safe. We would bring Koshka as close to death’s door as possible before sealing him inside the massive structure and dropping it in the Atlantic. So once again, I yield to his authority, to his wisdom, and follow his lead.

He gets a few more wails in, breaking Benedikt’s nose in the process, and allows me one last go of my own where I shove my blade clean through his eyeball and pull the damn thing free, but I have to admit…

Spinning the lock closed with his body crumpled inside is so fucking satisfying. And knowing he’ll still be alive when the water level rises to capacity is almost enough to make me hard.

“The violent delights have violent ends,” I repeat the words he uttered at me and spin on my heel to follow Belucci.

See you in hell, Koshka.