Chapter 4~ Hell In Her Eyes

Chapter 4

Vincenzo

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She has fire, I’d give her that.

Most women in her position would have broken down by now, begging for mercy, tears streaming down their faces—maybe even dead by now.

But not Stacy Salvatore.

No, she was too proud, too defiant to crumble so easily. I mean, when you’ve spent years learning to be wicked and making other people’s lives miserable from your father, you become like him.

The way she handled that rifle was almost admirable, if I weren’t so determined to crush that pride of hers when the time came.

I led her towards the truck, finding her futile attempts to free herself from my grip almost amusing. She was smart enough to know that fighting me wouldn’t get her anywhere, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

There was a wildness in her, a desperate need to prove she wasn’t as helpless as she felt. It was that same wildness that would make her useful, even if it meant keeping her on a short leash until I was ready to use her.

“Let go of me,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

I glanced at her, amused by the fire in her eyes. She still had no idea how deep in the lion’s den she was. “You don’t get to give orders, topo.”

The way her jaw clenched at the nickname made my smirk widen. There was something satisfying about seeing her bristle under my control, knowing that no matter how hard she tried to resist, she was mine to command.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, trying to yank her arm free again.

I stopped to face her fully, letting her feel the weight of my gaze. “Why? Because it reminds you of what you are? A mouse trapped in a cage?”

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn’t back down. I had to give her credit—most people crumbled under that look. But she stood her ground, even though we both knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Not here. Not with me.

“Come on, that’s no way to look at your savior.” I said, “I could have left you to die back there,” my tone was calm, calculated. “You should be more grateful.”

“Grateful?” She laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. “For what? For keeping me alive so you can use me as bait? Or maybe to torture me some more? If that’s what you’re expecting, you can go to hell.”

I studied her for a moment, noting the way her chest rose and fell with each angry breath. There was fear there, too, hidden beneath the bravado. But fear wouldn’t save her.

Fear would only make her more dangerous.

“Congratulations, you just made a smart observation,” I replied, voice steady, cold. “But I’ll take you with me.”

The look she gave me was one of pure hatred, and for a moment, I wondered if I had underestimated just how deep that hatred ran. But it didn’t matter.

Whatever was driving her, whether it was fear, anger, or something else entirely, it would be her undoing. When the time came, she’d realize that there was no escape.

Not from me.

I jerked my head toward the truck. “Keep moving.”

She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her options, but then she complied. Her silence was thick, heavy with unspoken threats and promises. She was plotting, that much was clear.

But so was I.

This is a game, and I’d been playing it far longer than she had. The cunning, scheming bitch she is, she might think she has a chance at finding some way to turn the tables, and I’ll let her think that.

But when the moment is right, I’d remind her just how powerless she really is.

Because that’s what this has always been about.

Power. Control. And right now, I have both.

I’d keep her alive, keep her safe from the other vultures circling around, but not out of kindness. No, I had plans for Stacy Salvatore. Plans that required her to be alive and very much aware of the role she’d play in my revenge.

Let her burn with hatred, let her plot and scheme. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. I’m the one holding the strings, and when I’m done with her, she’ll wish I had just killed her instead.

But until then, I’d enjoy watching her struggle and fight against the inevitable. Because there was nothing more satisfying than breaking someone who thought they couldn’t be broken.

And I would break her.

The ride to Fog House was tense, filled with a thick silence that matched the dark intent simmering inside me. Stacy had quieted down, likely contemplating her fate or plotting some ridiculous escape attempt.

Neither would do her any good.

As I pulled up in front of Fog House, the familiar scent of sweat, smoke, and something darker filled my nostrils. I could feel the tension rolling off Stacy in waves as I stepped out of the car, and before she could muster any resistance, I yanked her out of the truck.

This place had been in existence long before I was born, one of Don Cosimo’s many rings for everything illegal you could think of—chess, bets, fights, and darker things.

But now, it was under my control, and everyone here was answerable to me. Their safety, their existence, it all depended on my will, but with that power came the weight of their lives on my shoulders—which I had sworn to protect at all costs.

Colton came to welcome us, “Boss, we waited all night—”

“Yeah, something came up.”

I noticed the way Colton regarded the little mouse with hungry eyes and the way he licked his lips. It was typical because around here, there was no limit to who you fuck.

My men were free to play with the cheerful, giving ladies provided I had no marks on her, so Colton’s response was normal.

But Stacy’s response? She gave him a bitchy wink and even licked her lips, thrusting her hip forward like she was inviting him to do more than just salivate.

It’s little wonder how she’d managed to seduce her way out of her previous cells. This bitch is Jezebel and Delilah put together. Disgusted, I dug my fingers tighter into her arm and pulled her closer, then I shot Colton a warning glare.

“This is Ignacio’s girl, and she’s off-limits.”

Colton’s face flushed immediately, “I’m sorry. I thought she was one of the new girls.”

Stacy rolled her eyes, “And who says you can’t crush?” She reached out and dared to stroke Colton’s beard, “You’re handsome, and I love redheads.”

The fucking bitch!

Pissed, I quickly dragged her up the stairs. By this time, she was grinning. The girl was really spoiled rotten, it’s no wonder she was able to pull that rape stunt with Russel.

With a face like an angel and hips like that, she’d think she has every man whipped so a simple thing as rejection set her off real bad.

Well, she did have every man pussy-whipped, every man except Russel—and me.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the dimly lit corridors, the rough faces of men who had no mercy to spare, the women who eyed me with a mixture of lust and fear.

I swiped my card, and the heavy steel doors groaned as they swung open. Vito awaited at the top of the stairs. Vito was brutal, a wall of muscle and skill, with a face that wasn’t ugly but held no softness.

He has no tolerance for women, and demonic charms like Stacy’s would certainly not work on him. If anything, he lived for moments like this, where he could exercise his strength under my command.

“She’s all yours,” I said coldly, shoving her into Vito’s waiting grasp.

Stacy’s eyes widened in panic as Vito grabbed her. She struggled, kicking and squirming, but he handled her like a rag doll, his grip unyielding.

“Make sure she doesn’t move an inch,” I instructed, clasping the cuffs back on her wrists. She glared at me, hatred still blazing in her eyes.

Oh, that hell in her eyes, I intend to quench it.

“Sure.” Vito replied.

“Go to hell,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

I smirked, “You’re already there.”

I followed them at a distance, watching as Vito hauled her down the dimly lit hallway. The walls echoed with the muffled sounds of distant screams and the thudding bass of music that vibrated through the floor—but none of that could outdo Stacy’s screams.

She was scared, and that fueled the dark satisfaction coiling inside me in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

Vito stopped at a reinforced door, pushing it open to reveal a small room lined with an array of restraints and instruments designed for a variety of purposes.

Stacy was forced into a chair, and before she could react, Vito clasped her wrists into cuffs bolted to the armrests, doing the same with her legs.

I eased into the room, unable to hide my smile of satisfaction. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving with a mixture of fear and anger. I leaned down, close enough that I could feel her panicked breath on the bridge of my nose.

I muttered, “Don’t get too comfortable, topo.”

“Fuck you!” The quiver in her voice betrayed her fear.

“Is that a threat?” I taunted, my fingers tightening the cuffs until they bit into her skin, drawing a pained gasp from her lips. “My little mouse. Breaking you would be too easy. But not to worry, I intend to keep you in one piece—for now.”

I straightened up, turning my gaze to Vito, who stood by the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Make sure she stays put. I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Vito nodded, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “She won’t go anywhere, boss.”

I cast one last glance at Stacy, that small trace of fear was gone. With a final wink, I twisted the lock and stepped out of the room.

Vito mounted outside the door.

The underground was alive this morning, with the usual mix of desperate souls, each seeking something to numb the harshness of their reality.

I ignored the lustful glances of the girls as I ascended the stairs, their attempts to catch my eye futile.

Inside my private suite, I stripped off my bloodied clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the scalding water cascade over me.

The heat was a welcome burn, but it was nothing compared to the fire that had been raging inside me since I met that woman.

I scrubbed away the grime and blood, feeling the tension ease from my muscles, but the anger and frustration remained, simmering hot.

As the steam filled the bathroom, I closed my eyes, my thoughts turning dark. “Fucking Barrucianos.”

They were supposed to be keeping their distance. The peace between our territories, tenuous as it was, had held—until now. The Barrucianos were ruthless, sometimes careless, but they weren’t stupid.

An unprovoked attack like the one they’d just launched didn’t add up, even if I did have something they wanted.

Ignacio Salvatore, that old bastard had played his greedy dirty games a little too far and now he was not here to pay the fucking price.

How the Barrucianos got wind of his daughter’s presence in Chicago was still a mystery. They should know better than to think I’d just hand her over or let them kill her.

La vendetta è mia e soltanto mia.

I shut off the water, the suspicion hitting me like a fist to the gut. This wasn’t just about territory or even about Salvatore. There was something more, and I hate being caught off guard.

Did that mean the truce we had was off?

I stepped out of the shower, toweling off and slipping into a fresh set of clothes. When I stood in front of the mirror, I saw a man teetering on the edge, his patience wearing thin. A tiger that had spent too long in the shadows.

Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the minibar, I poured myself a glass, watching as the amber liquid caught the dim light. I downed it in one gulp, welcoming the burn as it slid down my throat, a brief distraction from the storm brewing in my mind.

I lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I turned to the small window overlooking the underground. Below, the boxing ring I'd had installed was in full use, the sounds of fists meeting flesh echoed up to my suite.

Watching the violence helped me think.

A sharp knock on the door snapped me out of my thoughts. I stubbed out the cigarette and opened the door to find Aurelio standing there, his expression grim.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said in a low, urgent voice as he handed me a folder. “Intel just came in.”

“On Tristiano?”

Aurelio’s face darkened and he shook his head, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “Fucking Americans!”

Surprised, I flipped open the folder, my eyes scanning the documents inside. Each word, each detail, the images, only confirmed what I had feared.

“What the fuck?” I muttered in a fit of disbelief and rage.

Aurelio clenched his fists, his own anger was barely contained. “Fio will be so fucking devastated. I don’t know how to break this to her.”

I threw the file down in disgust, unable to look at it any longer. The contents were too sickening, too enraging. When I turned to Aurelio again, my eyes hardened with resolve.

“Tell everyone. This isn’t just a skirmish. It’s a fucking declaration of war.”