The Devil's CrownPart Two - Monica James Page 0,125

invincible. But guess what, you’re not.”

I slam his head onto the desk once, twice, before letting him go. He slumps onto the desk, slouched in a pool of blood and saliva. His discarded cigar lays a few inches away.

“Whether you know her or not, your fate has been decided. I know where you hide your secrets. Galina told me.”

Christian turns his neck to look at me. I relish seeing his nose is broken—again. “Take what you want. If you’re right, then you’ll find everything you need in those records. I won’t bother you again. I’ll forget you and Ella were ever here.”

I pick up his burning cigar and examine it between my fingers. “Oh, you pathetic дурак. I was planning on taking that anyway. That’s not what I want from you.”

Ella is incredibly silent, watching on as her beau beats the shit out of a vile human being. I wonder what she’ll think of me once my grand plan is revealed.

“What do you want?” Christian screams, helpless, afraid, just how every child he exploited felt. “You want more money? Is that it? We can renegotiate terms. Split, sixty, forty. You need me, Popov! You need another distributor. Who else will sell to you?”

And he’s right. I do need someone, but it won’t be him.

I help myself to Christian’s cell, lifting his head so I can scan his face to unlock his phone. Siri still recognizes him with a broken nose, it seems. Once it’s unlocked, I scroll through his contacts and commence my descent into hell.

Vincenzo answers the FaceTime call, expecting his son to be on the other end, so you can imagine his surprise when he sees my face.

“Aleksei?” he says, switching on the light so I can see him better. “I didn’t realize you were visiting with Christian.”

“It was an impromptu visit, Vinnie. Can I call you Vinnie?”

His nostrils flare, but he nods. “Where is Christian? Is everything all right?”

“No, Vinnie,” I reply, cigar still in hand. “Everything is far from all right. Your son is a double-crossing asshole. Do you know he put forth a proposition to me, offering to supply me all the drugs I want while cutting you and Fausto out of the deal?”

“He lies, Papa!” Christian screams.

“Christian?” Vincenzo says, leaning closer to the phone, in hopes of seeing his son. I decide to give him his wish.

Flipping the screen around, I give Vincenzo a clear view of his son, impaled to the chair. If he had any pride, he’d pull the letter opener out and free himself. Yes, it’ll hurt like a bitch, but at least he’d be free to fight me.

Yet here he is, pathetically crying for his papa.

“Christian! What did he do to you?”

Before he has a chance to answer, I walk over to Christian and press the burning cigar into his cheek. His screams are music to my ears.

Vincenzo can see it all.

“Am I lying, Christian?” I ask, forcing the cigar deeper into his burning flesh.

“Okay!” he cries, raising his hand in surrender. “It’s true, Papa. I’m sorry.”

The cigar has burned through his flesh, so I casually remove it and slowly stub it out in the ashtray.

Flipping the screen back around so Vincenzo can see my face, I smile. “You didn’t teach your son any manners. Shame on you. A parent is the most important role model a child has. So I dare say, you’re in part to blame for your son being a sick son of a bitch.”

“What do you want?” Vincenzo asks, understanding there is a reason for my call.

“Let’s make this a family affair,” I suggest, scrolling through the contacts to find Fausto’s number.

I add him to the conversation, and when he sees me, he knows something is awfully wrong.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you,” I quip to Fausto, who is in blue and white striped pajamas. “I won’t be long.”

“What’s going on, Vincenzo?”

I answer for him. “What’s going on is that your nephew had a little side project you two were unaware of. He is selling young children to any sick asshole for the right price. And he is making quite a lot of money doing so. As you see, I cannot allow that to happen.

“My daughter’s childhood is unknown, and I fear your son may have had a hand in that. He must be made an example of; all of the motherfuckers who defied me do.”

Their horrified faces prove Christian was telling the truth. They had no part in the exploitation of god knows how many