Sociopath's Revenge

by V. F. Mason

  My hands caressed the stones, and I placed a single rose on each of them.

  One for me.

  One for Damian.

  "I'm sorry I didn't make this trip sooner." My voice was hoarse and gruff from the depth of emotions spreading through me. "I thought it didn't matter, but it does. I promise you, everyone will pay for what they have done. I love you, guys." The words tasted strange in my mouth. I hadn't said them in a long time, but they deserved it.

  Regret crept in when I thought about how Damian and I could easily have grown up here with loving parents, enjoying being heirs of an empire and actually experience living in Houston. Our childhood would have been filled with love, laughter, freedom, graduations, and weddings.

  Life without nightmares.

  Life without deaths.

  Life without revenge.

  Dusting my knees, I stood up, and with one last glance, started to my car. Wondering about what ifs was useless because time couldn't be taken back.

  Damian was Sociopath.

  I was Pakhan to the Russian mob.

  Nothing would ever change it, and somehow guilt slipped into my dark heart because our parents wouldn't have wanted such a life for us.

  But it had happened.

  And it was time for revenge; this trip fueled the desire for it even more.

  The man in the chair cried out in pain as I pressed hot silver on his back, leaving a big round burn mark. The familiar rush of adrenaline spread through me, and my lip curled in satisfaction and disgust.

  "Mercy," he whispered with a pain-filled breath and fuck if I didn't miss inflicting pain on all those sick fuckers who deserved it. They were all the same and begged with the same words too.

  "Never," I answered, and with my knife, I started to write the names on his back, despite his constant groans and tears.

  "What do you want? Money? I have money. Lots of it. Just let me go, and you'll have whatever you want." His talk got on my nerves, so I pressed my gloved fingers on the burns on his back, making them hurt more, and he leaned forward as much as his chain restraints allowed. "Please, stop." The man burst into tears, sobbing like a little bitch. "It's about drugs? Tell Don I'll never take drugs again. I promise." I chuckled as if the thought of him doing drugs would ever be any of my concern.

  Alfonso Alamente, the right hand of the Italian mob family, someone Don had enormous trust and respect for. He was the father of three daughters, had been married to his childhood sweetheart for twenty years, and liked to play golf with his friends. He was a traditionalist, who believed in preserving Italian culture even in the States and went to church every Sunday. Nothing short of perfect.

  I finished writing on his back and moved in front of him. His bloody, watery eyes studied me, probably searching for any kind of clue. Not that it would help him. I wore a black shirt and jeans along with a black mask. He'd be dead by the end of it, so it didn't matter about my identity and it never did before, but due to my new scars, I took extra precautions. I had my family to think about.

  "Who hired you? Tell him, call him, do anything to let him know I'll never do it again." My mouth spread in a sinister smile that didn't reach my eyes; here it happened. He started to crack. The beauty of kidnapped and tortured cowards? In time, they couldn't withstand the pain, so they gave you any information they could think of without you asking for it.

  Alfonso Alamente might have been a perfect Italian family man who served the mafia religiously. But even as "perfect" a man as he was, he couldn't stand the allure of power, so he crossed his dear friend and created a side business. Human trafficking of women and children.

  I discovered it a few days ago as I collected information on everyone in Don's mob, even though he refused to investigate Alfonso. Of course, I hadn't listened and discovered a lot of interesting stuff, too bad for Don that it was usually the ones we trusted most who betrayed us. "I'll never touch the boys again. I didn't do it often anyway, but the new one was so pretty I couldn't resist. The devil made me do it."

  Before the action registered in my mind, my hand grabbed his neck in a tight hold and started to choke the life out of him. His face turned red, and he tried to gasp for breath, but couldn't. The red fog of anger and rage for all the boys he'd hurt blinded me, and only the memory of my own child who I wanted to protect from such people allowed me to let go of him as he desperately inhaled oxygen in his lungs. "It's not about the boys? S isn't angry with me?" I froze on the spot hearing the nickname because it hadn't been something I expected. Alfonso had direct contact with S? "Don finally found out it was me who helped him kidnap Rosa? I just wanted to expand the business; I did it for the mafia."

  Fuck.

  This sick fuck was responsible for that too? Apparently he'd felt fearless after Sociopath disappeared, created a new trafficking ring along with new business partners.

  I slowly walked toward my table filled with knives from different parts of the world. From blades to kitchen knives. Each one of them was beautiful, made out of the finest silver and sharp as a razor. What I loved most about them though was the hurt and anguish they brought to my victims.

  I chose number five, a cropped middle-sized knife, and checked with my index finger its serrations on the side. The skin on my finger almost broke from the slight contact, and pleasure enveloped me in its haze. Perfect.

  Like I said, cowardly men spilled all their secrets if it helped to save their life, and this man was of no use to me anymore.

  For the next hour, my dungeon was filled with cries from the man who got his dick cut off, fingers broken along with his toes, and finally ten stab wounds that killed him.

  I picked a few pieces of his body, put them inside the box, and signed the address of his club where the cops would show up in exactly ten hours when they got the lead.

  The world had to know.

  S had to know.

  Sociopath was fucking back, and this time, S wouldn't escape me.

  Sapphire

  Glancing around Damian's penthouse, I couldn't help but murmur, "Nothing's changed."

  He gave me an odd look. "Why would it?"

  "Um… because it's been five years?"

  He shrugged. "Juanita was the one looking after it, not me. I never came here. Without you, what was the point?" His words warmed my heart as I thought about the few days we'd shared together here.

  Initially, my excitement couldn't be contained, considering New York was the city I grew up and spent my whole life in. When Damian's private jet flew above Manhattan, I couldn't help but glue my face to the window and watch with wonder. I thought I'd never see it again.

  When we hit the ground, us girls didn't want to go home; instead, we explored the city, much to Damian's dismay, as he was worried for our safety.

  We took lots of photos, visited several toy stores, Times Square, the Empire State building, and even made it to the Statue of Liberty. Finally, when Kristina was falling down on her feet, Damian was able to drag us to the apartment where Juanita greeted us with Mexican food and lots of hugs. She couldn't peel her eyes away from Kristina, and I could predict she'd spoil her rotten.

  The next morning, Juanita took the girls to her favorite breakfast restaurant, claiming she had to spoil her granddaughters. Somehow, Rosa didn't protest much, even though she screamed left and right she was old enough to have sex.

  "Where did you live all this time then?" I asked.

  "We constantly changed locations; plus, I was working on bringing down various organizations. Rosa stayed mostly with Luke in Houston."

  I nodded, and then noticed the bag beside the door and my brows furrowed. "Where are you going?" His eyes caught mine, and I understood everything at once.

  He was going after the main target. But why so soon? Reading my face, he elaborated, "I need to prepare everything in the dungeon, meet with Connor, and lie low for a few days. That's the reason I decided to go now." He caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his touch. "Make it safe for all my girls." Even though I
knew that he had to do this, memories of our other goodbye flashed through my eyes when he promised me to take care of the problem, only for my father to shoot him. No matter how much I tried, the tight knot in my chest refused to loosen and trust my man to take care of himself this time.

  Damian palmed my face and focused my attention on him. "Nothing is going to happen. I promise." I winced at his words, and he sighed heavily. "Okay, I give you my word that this time everything is going to be different. I'm not working alone anymore, remember?" I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed him in, calming a bit. I never wanted to lose the comfort of his arms again. With a sigh, I placed my mouth on his, wanting to feel his kiss one more time before he left for God knows how long.

  Damian

  Kissing her was like a drug. It was addictive and made my head spin, and although I knew it was fucking wrong—I had no time—nothing could have stopped me. I kissed her deep, pushing my tongue between her lips, seeking hers, and once I found it, we kissed long and hard. I wanted to devour her, bruise her mouth, so she would remember me for days. She circled her arms around me again, and I picked her up and put her on the counter.

  Thank God, nothing was there; otherwise, it would've crashed to the floor, and that wouldn't make Juanita happy. I stepped between her legs and angled her head a bit to make the kiss deeper. She moaned, and the sound went straight to my cock, hardening it more if it were possible. I pushed my hands under her shirt and lightly ran my fingers over her ribs. I felt her shiver. She moved closer to me, and her pussy pressed against my cock. I couldn't have suppressed the groan, even if I'd tried.

  "So beautiful," I whispered, as she laced her hands in my hair, crushing our mouths more. My hands traveled up to her full tits with their perky nipples. I took them between my fingers, rolled, and then pinched them enough to create friction but not enough to hurt. She whimpered into the kiss, pressing against my erection firmly. Suddenly, an overwhelming desire to taste her powered through me. I released her mouth, and she groaned in protest, but that was quickly replaced with one more moan when I lifted her shirt, exposing her round pink nipples. I leaned down and took one pointed peak in my mouth. I groaned at her taste, as my fingers played with the other. God, was that how heaven felt? She smelled of lavender and mint, something I always associated only with her. Sapphire responded instantly, attuned to my every touch, and I wanted more. I shifted to her other breast, and the whole time, she whimpered and raised her hips slightly, trying to close her thighs around me.

  "Stop," I growled and let go of her breasts. "When you are with me, I'm the one who gives you pleasure and decides when you can come." I know my voice sounded harsh, but I couldn't help it. "Do you understand?' She nodded and put her hands on the counter behind her as her beautiful blue eyes watched me with desire, lust, and love.

  She was the only person on the planet who could disarm me with just one look, one touch, one breath. My eyes studied her body. Her shirt was pushed up to her neck, and her sorry excuse for shorts exposed her thighs. I was dying to have those beautiful legs wrapped around my waist as I thrust home.

  "Please," she whimpered. I put my hands on her thighs and lightly caressed them, so it would feel like a feather's touch. "Please what?"

  "Please do something," she replied, almost making me smile. My little demanding creature.

  "Who are you asking to touch you, Sapphire?' I asked huskily and nipped her lips, traced my tongue around them, but leaned back when she tried to catch my mouth for one more kiss.

  "You." She moaned again when I sank to my knees and started to put slow, small kisses on her stomach, always moving lower. I licked her belly button, which earned me yet another cry.

  "Me who? Whose head is between your thighs?" I lifted her ass a little and lowered the waistband of her shorts to discover she had gone commando. Didn't expect that from my girl. New York sure changed her dress habits.

  I had quite the frontal view of what I wanted. Her pussy bare and sleek to the touch.

  "Yours."

  I licked slowly with my tongue from her belly button to the top of her opening. She smelled musky, and my mouth watered at the prospect of tasting her. I breathed slightly on her pussy, and it twitched.

  "Who?" I asked again, stilled my movements, and looked up. Her head was thrown backward; she breathed heavily, her nipples hard and swollen from my mouth. Her hands supported her back. She finally glanced down at me and licked her lips, and I wanted to kiss them all over again.

  "You, Damian, you are the one who is touching me."

  I growled, satisfied with her answer, and leaned down.

  With my thumbs, I opened up her pussy for my probing tongue. Her hips came up, but I grounded her with one of my hands on her stomach and whispered against her flesh. "Keep your fist in your mouth; I don't want anyone to hear your screams. They're meant only for my ears." She nodded, and I went down on her again. I licked around her clit, then moved lower, put my tongue inside her and then back up again. She tasted amazing, like bittersweet honey. I could have stayed on my knees forever. She started to push her hips back against my face slowly in a rhythm while putting one of her hands on my head, pressing me more firmly. If she wanted to get off on my face, who was I to argue?

  I knew she wanted me to focus on her clit, but I wasn't giving it to her. Instead, I kept probing her and then put one of my fingers inside.

  "Please let me." I knew she was asking me to let her come. And whatever she asked, she got. Keeping my finger inside her, I moved up slightly and sucked hard on her clit, and that was all it took for her to raise her hips, and even though she tried to hide it, her cry was loud enough for me to hear. I looked up to the sight I would never forget. I'd take it to my grave.

  My girl was in the haze of her pleasure with satisfied eyes and an open mouth, trying to catch her breath after the pleasure I had given her. I was the only one who made her feel that way, no one else. Gently licking her folds one last time, I rose and kissed her hard on the mouth. She was numb in my arms, clearly yet to come down from her high, but her tongue was cooperating with mine. I knew my lips still held the taste of her, but it didn't seem to bother her. In fact, she groaned and deepened the kiss, sucking on my tongue.

  I was painfully aware of my dick hurting behind my pants. I adjusted her shirt and shorts, then moved my lips to her neck. I placed gentle kisses there while she played with my hair. As much as I wanted to fuck her—no, not fuck her, make love to her—right then, it wasn't an option. It was about her getting off. "Nice way of saying bye," she murmured, and we both burst out laughing.

  New York, New York.

  Massive doors opened in front of me, although I hadn't missed the confused and odd looks Don's guards were sending my way. Without comment, I entered the office where a lonely man sat at a poker table shuffling a deck of cards, a cigar between his fingers.

  "Have to say I was intrigued when the head of the Russian Mob family asked permission to enter my city, and then for a private meeting. Even the late Vasya, may his soul rest in peace, never had such nerve." He had a gun on his left side and a glass of whiskey on his right. After one more inhale on his cigar, he raised his eyes to me. They widened in shock for a second, and then his face went completely blank. "I'll be fucking damned," he murmured, and then motioned for me to sit opposite him.

  Once I rested my back on the chair, he raised his brows. Being Pakhan myself, I understood what he waited for. "I'm here to talk about your daughter." I saw no point in skirting the issue and decided to cut to the chase. I had no time for useless word games. Since he stayed silent and gave me no reaction whatsoever, I continued with my speech, "Her kidnappers will be taken care of by me personally."

  Don picked up his glass, sipped, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his mouth. "I see," he replied. "So you came here to inform me about your intentions? Basically letting me know you'll find my baby girl, but then you'll take her away anyway?" Despite his smiles, his eyes stayed focused and sharp on me.

&
nbsp; I placed my elbows on the table, pushed myself forward, and added, "She'll be mine, but she was yours first, right? I wouldn't keep her from you."

  At this, he chuckled humorlessly and then threw away the glass he held. It shattered into tiny little pieces, leaving a brown stain on the wall.

  "Boy, you have a lot of nerve coming here with demands." It didn't escape my notice he hadn't reached for his gun yet, so my body stayed relaxed.

  "I do. Would you want someone else for her?"

  He raised his brows in disbelief. "Sure as fuck not a Russian mob boss. Do you even understand how ridiculous this visit and conversation is? You won't find my daughter, so it's a moot point." He waved his hand dismissively. "Leave, and never approach me about this again."

  His refusal to accept me as his daughter's future didn't really bother or surprise me, because honestly, what father would? I expected a lot of fighting, threats, and a desperate father grasping for straws of information regarding her whereabouts.

  Never once did he ask me where she was.

  Never once did he ask me how I even knew about her.

  Never once did anything shift in his expression, except his smile and the initial shock.

  And it only meant one thing.

  My brother got here first.

  "Damian," I said quietly, and his head jerked and shifted toward me from the papers. "Damian has her, doesn't he? That's why you are so calm about this, didn't threaten to gut me for thinking about Rosa. You've met my brother."

  I couldn't fucking believe this! If he had her, Connor knew about it and never saw the need to warn me in advance that we had a female on board.

  "I didn't know he had a twin." He leaned his head to the side, studying me. "He doesn't know you are alive. He thinks he lost you all those years ago."

  My eyes narrowed as my hands fisted. Had Damian spread the stories of our childhood with everyone now? According to me, the past was so dirty and painful it absolutely had to stay hidden.