Okay, I know I said I wouldn't give warnings in chapters but well...
⚠️ This chapter contains graphic descriptions of murder and torture.

*****

"You're sick. He trusted you so much, you psycho." The Godfather spat at me.

"Now look who's telling that to who." I smiled, knowing it was nothing but evil.

Antagonism was thriving though my veins. The murder of my parents s was playing in front of me like a movie, fortifying my hate for The Godfather even more.

"You'd better let me go or else..."

"Or else what?" I demanded gruffly, then said calmly. "I think we both know who's calling the shots around here so you better humble your self Godfather."

"Who are you? Why did you pretend to be working for me? What the fuck do you want?"

I began pacing around him. "I'm here to send you to hell."

"You wouldn't dare."

That made me chuckle, a chuckle filled with pure evil and a passion for revenge. "Oh how I love it when people challenge me. It only grants me the opportunity to show how brutal I can be."

"Who is paying you?" His voice sounded more desperate than demanding.

"Now that's the interesting part. " Feeling for the back pocket of my pants, I brought out a small pocket knife and fisted it. "Nobody's paying me."

"You pretended to be working for Alacran just to gain access to me. Somebody had to have sent you."

Leaning down, I placed both hands on his chair and glared into his terrified eyes. "No one is paying me, but I take out bad guys. You've been on my target list for years, because you deserve to die. You deserve to die for every throat you've slit. Every stomach you've stabbed. Every head you've shot."

I was going to put an end to the reign of terror and adoration he'd held over the people of this town for so long. All those years of murders and making people look over their shoulders.

"Is there a particular reason why you're doing this?" He snapped.

"Oh yes, there is." I answered. "Fiteen years ago, you had my parents murdered. My dad was a cop, and he threatened to expose you to the whole city the man you truly are."

He stayed silent, glaring at me. I continued circling him. "Of course, you've had so many people killed that you won't remember. Just as you probably won't remember three of the men you sent to kill him."

I paused in front of him. "Let me try to refresh your memory. Six years ago, one of your men turned up in town beaten to death. A week later, another was found, killed the same way. That was me. Fortunately for the third person, he was already dead and so I didn't get the chance to exact my revenge on him."

"However, you'll probably remember the fourth person. Your former right hand man. Found in a warehouse with five knife wounds on his lifeless body with his eyes taken out.

If The Godfather looked afraid before, now he looked terrified.

"Th... That was you?"

"Yes."

"What do you want in exchange to let me go? You. . . you can be my right hand man. You can. . . even be my partner. Enjoy all the privileges I do."

He smiled as if he was expecting me to accept his offer.

I smiled cynically. "Can't say I'm surprised by that offer you're making. How can you even expect me to be working with the man who had my parents killed?"

"Fortunately, I don't want any of that. But I'm a very good listener. I may consider sparing your life if only you convince me on why you don't deserve to die. By begging." I stood straight, waiting for his reaction.

As expected, he scowled defiantly at me. "That'll never happen." He spat out ravenously.

"Your choice." Without warning, I pulled the blade out of the pocket knife I was holding and drove it into his left eye.

He let out a bellow of pain as his body shook to get free of the restraints. I'd made sure to tie his arms behind him around the chair. His whole body was tied up. Blood oozed from the eyes I'd just bursted as he continued to yell.

"Do you still think I'm joking?" I sneered against his ear, watching the knife still stuck in his eye.

I wanted him to beg for his life. Just like most of his victims had obviously done. Then I would turn a deaf ear, just like he'd always done.

"You bastard. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you." He kept on threatening, still howling.

I pulled the life out of his left eye and plunged it into his right eye. The scream I received this time obviously reached the heavens.

"Please stop. Stop!" He managed between his painful groans.

He looked so pathetic begging like that with no eyes and blood streaming down his face, and it only made me smile bitterly. Images of my father lying down on the ground begging for his life and my mother's flashed before my eyes.

I pulled a kitchen knife I'd stuck in a holster out. Unsheating the blade, I shoved it into the man's belly. He yelled. I pulled the blade out and plowed it in another spot. He yelled louder.

Over and over, I stabbed him ten times, twice the number of times my dad had been stabbed, targeting the exact spots I knew didn't cause quick death. His scream turned into moans of resignation.

Pulling out the knife from his belly, I brought it to his neck and began slicing. I didn't want him to die just yet, so I made the pressure just enough to cut lightly. Vein by vein. Tissue by tissue. He managed some howls of pain.

"I was there. Hidden in the closet and too afraid to come out. I watched my parents being killed. They pleaded, they begged, but nothing swayed your men because they were following your orders."

The memories turned my rage notches up. Pulling the knife away from his neck, I plunged it into his stomach and twisted it repeatedly. I wanted to hear him scream, and that's exactly what he did.

Leaving the knife buried in his stomach, I retreated into the darkness. I watched him breathing painfully, listened to his groans of pain until the life very slowly left his body.

One less bad person in the world. This town was going to be such a better place.

Now I needed to figure out how to get out of here without getting myself killed. I'm sure you've had to deal with enough violence so I'm going to spare you the details of how I took down the guards that secured the driveway.

Basically, when I came out alone without Alacran, suspicions ran high. I snapped the neck of the first guard by the door and shot the other.

There was a shootout where I used the body of one of the dead guards as shield before ducking behind Alacran's car.

Since I wasn't one to waste bullets, I only fired six in the shootout at the right opportunities. And all the other guards were dead.

Slowly, I made my way down the driveway to where the button for entry was. Pressing on it, I watched as the earth lowered and fell before me. I climbed the incline and got out, and the earth automatically closed again.

It was raining. Ironic how it'd also rained the night my parents were killed. It was like they were sending me a message.

A powerful surge of emotion swept through me, and I crumpled to my knees. I broke down and cried like I hadn't done in more than a decade. The rain beat down on me, mixing with my tears and soaking me wet.

I'd finally managed to achieve my ultimate mission. I'd finally taken revenge for my parents death. Even if it didn't give me the bliss I'd always imagined killing The Godfather would give me, I didn't feel an ounce of regret.

Getting to my feet, I looked at the spot where the opening to the ground was. It was so damn concealed no one would suspect something was beneath it.

While leaving the day Alacran had brought me here, I'd asked him if the button inside was the only way to crack the opening.

He'd evasively told me there was something around that could open it from the outside without the button from the inside. I hadn't pressed him for more because I didn't want to risk any suspicions.

Not that I cared. I was leaving this world of vigilanteesm and violence and it meant cutting loose every aspect of it.

I was finally going to be the kind of man my Montserrat deserved.

_____

Hope this wasn't too brutal for you.

LOL(Lots Of Love)
–Enock