Guns n' Boys Book 1 Part 2 (8 page)

Seth groaned. “Okay,” he said and
disconnected, looking up at Dom. “There goes your blow job.”

“I’ve been summoned too.” Domenico sighed and
reached into his pocket, retrieving a black hair band, which he
immediately used to gather his hair into a neat ponytail. “Where
to?”

Seth shrugged. He wasn’t impressed by this
turn of events. “Vincente wants to see me in the living room.”

Domenico bit his lip, looking toward the sea
before turning his eyes to Seth again. His brows were gathering to
form a deep valley above his nose. “I’ll go first. Do all they ask
you to.”

Seth nodded and watched Domenico walk off.
It was like a snippet from a new Dolce & Gabbana ad campaign. A
single elegant figure walking down the dirt road, the sun setting
over the villa on the hill, flooding the surroundings in bloodred
light. Seth waited to see Dom disappear between the trees and
followed, watching his lover make quick, sharp strides from a
distance.

When Dom crossed the villa’s inner fence,
which dated back to at least the turn of the century, Seth stopped
to look at two birds chasing one another in a tree, before
eventually walking into his mother’s flower garden himself. He
frowned, suddenly realizing that there was an eerie silence about
the house. Usually, it was a time for evening business, but not
today.

His brother stood there, tapping his foot
against the marble tiles.

“I was out for a walk,” Seth said, still not
over the fact that his dick could have been down Dom’s throat right
now.

Vincente rolled his eyes. “Watching the sea
maybe?” He was already walking into the house.

More like jumping off a
cliff
. “Yeah, something like that. Are you
gonna tell me what Father wants?”

Vincente snorted, walking through the empty
drawing room, which was a customary spot for the Family’s women to
have a drink and cake at approximately this time. Today though, it
was empty. “I think he wants to give you the happy news
himself.”

For a moment of grim humor, Seth wondered if
the happy news was his fiancée eloping with another man. That would
have made his day. He scowled at the white and blue flower
ornaments that had been wrapped around the railing of the stairs in
preparation for the wedding reception.

Vincente walked through the
main living room and down an empty corridor. It was like a stroll
through an empty hotel. And more like the one from
The Shining
than
the
Marriot
on a
slow day. It had Seth uncomfortable, but the real chills came when
Vincente led him to the back of the building and opened the thick
steel door to the cellar.

“What is it?” Seth asked, all hairs bristling
on his nape when he got the first sniff of cool air coming from
below.

“After you.” Vincente gestured toward the
darkness down the step stone stairs and Seth could swear his
brother’s smile was like a wolf’s to a lamb. Now that the door was
open, it was clear where everyone had gone. There were noises
coming from the narrow staircase, which already filled Seth’s
nostrils with the damp smell of a cellar.

His stomach clenched. Going down these
stairs never amounted to anything good. This place was no wine
cellar. The memory of his uncle’s murder crept out from a dark part
of his mind, as if Massimo’s cold hands were down there, ready to
grab him and drag him into the dirt.

But when he got down to the stone blocks of
the corridor and faced the darkness, his heart stopped at the words
‘faggot’ echoing in a cacophony of thuds and groans. He could feel
the warmth of Vincente’s body behind him, but as he listened to
even more obscenities, his feet refused to move, stiff as if
someone had screwed them to the floor. Was Domenico here as
well?

What if someone saw them together, found out
about them, and he was now walking to his own execution? The cellar
was so cold, steam formed when he breathed, but it was another
scream that had him move. What if it was Dom tortured down there?
This was exactly the reason Seth stuck to jerking off and never
looked for partners in Italy. A slight nudge between his ribs
almost had him yell out his surprise, but it was only Vincente.

“You’re blocking the way.”

“I’m going.” Seth’s voice was hoarse, and
when he started walking, prodded by Vincente like a calf, his
strides became longer and his heart beat faster with every sound of
a breaking bone and every grunt of pain at the end of the never
ending underground corridor too uncomfortable for a man his size to
walk through with haste. A glint of light coming from a partially
open room made him quicken his stride and push at the heavy door.
He needed to stoop down to get through, but even holding his breath
wouldn’t keep him from tasting the aroma in the air.

There was blood on the raw stone floor, but
all Seth could think about was that the victim’s legs were encased
in blue jeans while Dom’s pants were black. A sense of relief
washed over him, though it came back up in the form of bile in his
throat just moments after. The man on the floor was battered into a
pulp of breathing, bloodied flesh. A single lightbulb hung from the
ceiling, casting an eerie yellow light on all the men in the room.
Seth swallowed when Vincente entered behind him and closed the
door. He looked around, desperate to know what was going on. There
was Father, Santo, the consigliere, a few men he didn’t recognize,
and, most surprising of all, a pale teenage boy, who looked
everywhere but not at the victim.

And Domenico, resting against the wall in a
way that was clearly meant to appear casual, but to Seth it looked
like he was a column about to crumble under the weight of the house
above them. With his hands in his pockets, Dom kept his eyes on the
beaten man, raising them to Seth after several seconds of
hesitation. His face told Seth nothing. Domenico was shutting him
out for the benefit of all the big men cramped under a low,
barrel-shaped ceiling of old brick.

It was Father who broke the silence,
welcoming Seth with a broad gesture. “We have the traitor.”

Seth swallowed and slowly walked up to his
father, numb. Could this be Angelo? Why did he hear so much
homophobic slurs then? Seth tried not to look at Domenico, he
couldn’t get any help from him here. The smell of blood was making
it hard to focus, but he refused to look into the smashed face.
Chances were, he wouldn’t be able to stomach what was going to
happen.

“Oh,” was all he managed and regretted it the
moment he saw Vincente snigger. Father frowned, crooking his head
at him.

“Is that all you have to say? This faggot
sold you to the Triad!”

Before Seth could open his mouth, one
overeager soldier stepped closer to the immobile body and smashed
his boot into its side so hard it tumbled around two times, landing
on its back. If it weren’t for the broken sound of pain, Seth would
have successfully convinced himself it was just a training bag.

Cold sweat covered Seth’s
back, as he tried to work out what was the best course of
action.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This was a shitload worse than falling for
Domenico Acerbi. This was truly
‘fucked’
.

“N-no, I mean…” Seth got distracted by the
spots of red on his father’s shirt and lingering in his short
beard. “Serves the fucker right.” He didn’t want to dwell on the
‘faggot’ aspect. Maybe it would all blow over? His hairs bristled
when he noticed that all eyes were on him, expectant and carefully
blank with just a hint of tension looming behind the calm demeanor
of the men. This room might as well be his crypt if he didn’t do
something.

Seth braced himself when Father patted him on
the back. “Good, you can thank him properly then.”

Seth looked to Angelo, curled up on the floor
with his hands tied behind his back. A pool of blood already
surrounded the man and for a surreal moment, Seth wondered who
would clean this place later.

His father spoke again. “What is it, son?
Ask him what he’s done.”

The chill in Seth’s body was freezing him to
the floor, and he had to focus on not gagging.

“Someone wake him up,” the Don urged when
Angelo stopped responding.

Consigliere gently pushed the teenager
forward, and though pale, he prodded Angelo’s chest with his foot.
The pained moan was a clear sign that Angelo was conscious. Seth
stole a glance at Dom, who kept his fist against his chin in a
gesture of thoughtfulness. He gave Seth the tiniest nod, but that
didn’t help Seth make any kind of decision. Even if Angelo
conspired against him, all Seth wanted was out. He didn’t want to
be a part of this world, he didn’t want to have to step into this
cellar ever again.

The silence became so heavy, he was afraid to
look up, focusing on his polished leather shoes instead. It was
Vincente who broke the silence. “You need anything?” He got closer
to Angelo, yanked his head up by the hair, and then forced the man
to his knees.

Seth looked into the battered face, the
smashed, crooked nose, the blood covering Angelo’s lips and chin,
dripping all the way to his torso. Yet still, he opened one eye in
that mask of pain and looked at Seth.

“What did you do?” Seth whispered.

Angelo’s lips, beaten so
badly they would make nice pieces of
schnitzel
, opened, and a red bubble
expanded at the man’s nostril as he tried to speak. Seth wasn’t
certain he even knew this man, but with a face as battered as this,
there was no telling how much it resembled its original
form.

Angelo’s breath came in raspy gurgles, but he
eventually managed to speak, “I... needed the money.”

Seth’s insides curled in a dance that was
bound to end in him throwing up. Everyone expected him to hit the
man for this confession, it was so obvious it almost felt like a
surge of telekinesis. “You shouldn’t have done that, Angelo,” he
said quietly, but a harsh slap on his arm got him out of focus.

“Seth! Is that everything you have to say?”
Father didn’t sound all that happy, but Seth was too numb to read
much into his frown and the streak of red across his cheeks.

Vincente stepped closer and pulled out a gun
with the grip turned toward Seth. “Won’t it be easier without
having to touch him?”

“Vincente,” Father pushed the gun away. “This
is not your decision.”

Seth wanted to crawl into the wall and forget
all of this ever happened. If he could just stand behind Domenico,
hide his face in his nape and slide his arms under Dom’s…

“This abomination,” Father pointed at
Angelo, “was found in a faggot club in Palermo. He betrayed us and
lied to us. Now he will get what he deserves.” He pulled out a
long, serrated knife and held it out to Seth.

The whispers of appreciation rang through
Seth’s empty brain, but Angelo just hung his head, devoid of hope
like a sacrificial lamb baring its throat for the knife. The
teenager stepped back to the wall, his big eyes watching Seth’s
every move like it was him the knife was for.

Seth gripped on the handle with goose bumps
all over his forearms. It made sense for the cellar to be cold as a
tomb. This was a place of death, and this murder would just be one
of many. He could barely breathe. “Father, I can’t— He’s nothing
without the Family. Exclusion would be worse than death. He’s
learned his lesson.”

Angelo’s one eye opened, and his breath got
raspy, blood bubbling up on his lips. All his hope was stifled by
Father’s growl. Seth stepped back when he saw the Don’s teeth
baring like a rabid dog’s.

“Slit that bitch’s throat!”

Seth’s world was becoming hazy around the
edges, the men around him turning into faceless creatures waiting
for blood to spill. Only Domenico was crisp in the back of the
room, still and focused on Seth.

He took a step toward Angelo, gripping the
knife so hard his knuckles hurt. The man’s eye closed, as if he
wanted to make it easier. Seth swallowed, looking to the exposed
neck that was already covered in blood from Angelo’s nose and
mouth. The knife hovered in the air, and Seth hated how badly his
hand shook. He refused to look up to see the ridicule that had to
twinkle in the other men’s eyes. Angelo was still as death when
Father’s voice almost caused Seth to drop the dagger.

“Domenico, did you waste your time in
Berlin?”

Seth opened his eyes just in time to see Dom
walking toward them with a carefully guarded expression. “No, I did
my best to—”

Father stepped forward with youthful vigor
and smashed his fist into Domenico’s face. His head bounced back
with the impact, but Dom composed himself within a second and
looked at Father again, without even a shadow of displeasure on his
handsome face.

“I did my best, but all failure is indeed my
fault. I am sorry to have displeased you.” As he spoke, Seth was
horrified to see blood trickling out of his nostril.

He wished his own face could now be a mask of
indifference as well. He forced himself to grip the knife with new
determination. It had to be better to kill someone who betrayed the
Family, who sold him into the hands of the Triad, than to watch Dom
be humiliated in front of everyone for no fault of his own. Seth’s
cowardice was his own problem, and he needed to deal with it.

“We didn’t cover all weapons,” Seth
muttered. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” He circled Angelo as if on
autopilot, his mind fast asleep, only his body moving. He stooped
behind Angelo and pulled at his hair to force the man to expose his
throat. A pained moan coming from beneath his fingers made his
knees shiver, but he fought that reaction with all his might. The
hair was slick, and for a moment, Seth tried to fool himself that
it was just some kind of melted hair gel, but no. His fingers
became red.