The Mafia King’s Doll

Renzo

The motorcade leaves a cloud of dust as we drive out to the village where Montes was last seen.

Dario, Carlo, Emilio, and I are in the first SUV while my men fill the other four. We used a couple of my private jets to get everyone into Mexico, and I had to reach out to the local cartel and give them a heads-up so there are no misunderstandings.

With a little luck, Servando Montes dies today.

Dario’s phone buzzes, and he checks it quickly, then says, “We have a face to put to the name.”

He holds the device so I can see. There’s a photo of a man having a cigarette outside a shitty house. He seems to be in his late fifties and loves heavy gold chains way too fucking much.

“Zero style,” Dario says as if that’s the biggest crime the man could commit.

I let out a chuckle, then mutter, “Doesn’t look like he knows we’re on the way.”

“The soldier that sold him out made sure Servando doesn’t catch wind of what’s going on.”

“At least one of his soldiers has enough common sense to rat him out to stop us from killing every last one of them,” I mention.

It’s a sad day when your own men turn on you.

“We’re going to have to move fast once we’re in the village so Montes doesn’t get away,” Dario says.

“Send the photo to my phone,” I request.

A second later, the message comes through from Dario, and I send it to all of my men.

Lifting the two-way radio to my mouth, I press the button and say, “I’ve sent you all a photo. Kill anyone who looks like the fucker.”

“One minute out, boss,” Carlo informs us.

I check my submachine gun and Glock for the third time before I suck in deep breaths, readying myself mentally for the action we might encounter. I’m bracing for a war so I’m not caught off guard.

“The fucking bulletproof vest is digging into my side,” Dario complains.

“Don’t you dare take it off,” I mutter.

The fucker bats his eyelashes at me. “When are you going to admit you love me?”

As we close in on the village, I lock eyes with the man who’s been there for me every step over the years and helped me get through the past few months.

“I love you.”

Dario’s mischievous expression fades away, and he looks a little shocked. He quickly turns his head and glances out of the window.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“If you cry, I’m going to shoot you,” I mutter.

He looks at me again and pretends to wipe a tear from beneath his eye, then the fucker aims to hug me. I slap his arms away, giving him a look of warning.

Letting out a burst of laughter, he says, “Love you too, brother.” “Jesus,” Carlo mumbles from the driver’s seat. “Get ready!”

I roll my shoulders, and the second the SUV comes to a stop, I shove the door open and get out.

I watch as Carlo and Emilio run to the front door. Emilio throws all his weight against the door, and it shudders open.

The other SUVs stop, and my men pile out. “Move your asses!” I order.

Dario stays by the SUV with his rifle resting on the roof of the vehicle.

Walking to the house, my fingers flex around the handle of my Glock while I keep glancing around us. People peek through curtains, but there’s no one out on the streets.

I hear gunshots, and picking up my pace, I walk into the house and glance around the living room.

“Carlo?” I call out.

“In the back,” he shouts. “The fucker’s in the basement.”

I head in the direction of his voice and find my men standing on either side of a door.

When Carlo sees me, he says, “The lights are out, and it’s fucking dark down there. He’ll pick us off one by one.”

“I’ll be right back,” I mutter before I head out of the house. Opening the backdoor of the SUV, I dig in the bag of weapons and find what I’m looking for.

I grab two smoke grenades, and when I straighten up, Dario yawns before asking, “What’s happening?”

“The fucker’s in the basement, so we need to flush him out.”

When I head back to the house, he calls out, “Okay then, I’ll just wait here.”

The corner of my mouth lifts, but the smirk quickly fades away when I reach Carlo and Emilio. I pull the pin out and throw the grenade into the darkness before moving out of the line of fire.

Three. Two. One.

Coughing sounds up, and I hear movement.

Pulling the pin on the second one, I throw it down the stairs and move back again.

I hear a woman screaming in Spanish and a couple of people coughing.

A moment later a woman crawls into the hallway. Emilio grabs her and shoves her to the side. He keeps one of his guns trained on her.

“Por favor,” she begs.

I gesture with a flick of my head for her to go. She scrambles to her feet and runs away as fast as she can.

A couple of seconds later, a guy in his thirties comes out, suffering from a bad coughing fit.

Emilio yanks him out of the way and slams the butt of his gun into his head, rendering him unconscious.

Growing impatient, I let out a heavy breath.

I’m a heartbeat away from going down there, but knowing the effects of the smoke, I hold out a little longer.

Finally, the fucking rat appears, and as he crawls into the hallway, I kick him hard, making him gag as he falls to his side.

I let out an audible breath, then say, “Emilio, get rid of the other one.” “No!” Montes shouts through ragged coughs. “He’s my son.”

“Ooooh.” Carlo grins at me. “Two for the price of one, boss.”

Crouching by Montes, I press the barrel of my gun to his head and say, “You took my heir from me. I feel it’s only fair I repay the favor.”

“No. Please. It was a mistake.” His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at me. “You already killed the men who fucked up. You got your revenge.”

I shake my head slowly. “It wasn’t a mistake when you came into my city and butchered my brother. It was a mistake that you got caught.”

I glance at Emilio, and he doesn’t hesitate to shoot the son in the head. “Nooooo!” Montes cries.

I grab his jaw and force him to look at me. “Be thankful for the merciful deaths I’m giving you and your heir. I could’ve gutted you like I did the others.”

When I let go of him and I rise to my feet, he crawls to his son. Lifting his son’s head to his chest, he cries as the sorrow engulfs him.

For a moment, I play with the idea of letting him live so he can suffer the loss for the rest of his life.

He was responsible for sending the men who killed Giulio and Harlan.

Because of this man, Skylar and I suffered.

She would want him dead.

Lifting my hand again, I train the barrel on him and pull the trigger three times. The smell of gunpowder hangs in the air, and my ears ring.

It’s over, amo.

Turning around, I order, “Leave the mess for someone else to clean up.

We’re going home.”