My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Ep. 6 Consequences (4 page)

I put him there.

I did this.

Being here was as much my punishment
as it was his.

I was a monster, a killer of
famiglia
just like my goddamned
father. If anything, I deserved to be in that coffin, not
Alberto.

Mario
gave my shoulder a squeeze, making me
wish it was my brother comforting me instead. I envisioned Alberto
telling me he forgave me, that he understood why I had killed him.
Although that wouldn’t be what Alberto would’ve said. Instead, he
would’ve told me that he hated me for what I had done to him, and
that I would burn in Hell for it, something I deserved without a
doubt.

The priest started
talking
. I
ignored him, my mind too focused on my brother’s coffin.

I put him there,
I put him
there...

Those words were the only ones that filled
my head, repeating over and over again. I knew many people hated
Alberto, and for just cause, but they didn’t know him as a child,
didn’t feel his loving hugs or hear his funny laugh. They didn’t
swim in the lake with him, or paddle down the river. He was my
closest companion, the one who laughed at my stupid jokes, who
roughhoused with me, who, who...

I heard a choked cry. The
cook’s gaze moved to me, making me realize it had come from me. Her
harsh face softened; her features full of sympathy. I had known her
all of my life, the woman a part of my
famiglia
, but I didn’t deserve her sympathy.
Instead, I wanted to yell at her that it was me who had put Alberto
in his grave—that I was his murderer.

I looked
down at my hands, seeing his
blood on them. They were clean, but my mind wasn’t. I had scrubbed
my hands raw after I had killed him. But no matter what I did, no
matter how clean they were, I would forever see his blood staining
my palms, my mind punishing me for the remainder of my
life.

A shot rang out, my
guards yelling at
me to get down.
Shooting started up, guns aimed at the hillside on my left.
I held my arms out wider, wanting the sniper’s bullets to hit me,
but Mario threw himself at me, knocking me to the
ground.

The attack wasn’t a surprise, but to hell
with the Donatelli if they expected me to stay away from my own
brother’s funeral. “Fuck you!” I screamed. If it hadn’t been for
them, none of this would’ve happened. None! Alberto would have
continued to hide his sickness, and I would still have my
brother.

The gunfire finally ceased,
then a guard shouted at Mario to get off me. He pushed up and
grabbed my arm, the
guard taking a hold of my other one, both of them helping
me to my feet. I steadied myself and looked up at the hillside,
knowing it was probably a hired killer or Matteo who had tried to
shoot me. That Donatelli
bastardo
no doubt had heard about Alberto’s funeral.
Mario had told me
Matteo had loved my brother; that the Donatelli pig had talked
about Alberto while Mario was imprisoned in the House of
Whores.
I
wondered whether Matteo had wanted to be at Alberto’s funeral, and
if he would mourn him. I hoped so. And I prayed he was suffering,
because I hated him. Matteo was now at the top of my hit
list—something I would fulfill.

And I would.

That was a promise.

2

Matteo

Fu
ck! It must’ve been the sun
reflecting off my rifle that had alerted the Landi soldiers. All I
needed to do was to pull the damn trigger and BAM, Frano would have
been dead, but I couldn’t even get one shot off. Instead, I almost
got myself killed, their bullets missing me by inches. The Landi
soldiers were making it almost impossible to get at Frano,
shadowing his every move. Still, I would find a weak spot in his
armor, because he was going down, and not on my cock. He deserved
to pay in blood for what he did to my family, along with that
dipshit Jagger.

I
ran across the field, barely
containing my rage. It wasn’t just about missing the shot; it was
more about what Frano was attending. After I’d heard of Alberto’s
death, I just fucking lost it, totally and utterly lost it,
smashing up the place my uncles and I had been hiding in,
completely annihilating everything in sight. I’d been a useless
fuck for two days after that, drinking myself into a stupor, then
yesterday I’d woken up knowing exactly what would get my mind off
my dead lover ... well, to the extent that I could function, and
that was to slaughter Frano, Jagger, and whoever the hell had
killed Alberto. The rumors claimed it was my family, which was a
lie. Alberto was an ally, not to mention my lover, which meant it
was either the Landi trying to frame my family or the Santini. My
bet was the Santini, because the Landi were Frano’s lapdogs, the
bunch of pricks constantly sniffing around Frano’s ass so they
could kiss it whenever he asked.

Regardless, whoever had killed
Alberto was going to suffer painfully and slowly
. Regret would fill the day
they took Alberto from me.
First, I would flay their skin off, then pull
their fucking intestines out with my knife, telling them they
deserved it and more as they screamed in agony.

I ran around the abandoned
stone cottage, heading for my black Audi, which was parked next to
my U
ncle
Nino’s Ferrari, the blood red sticking out like a sore thumb. I
didn’t want the useless fuck to come with me, but he had insisted,
although he’d done nothing, other than sit in his car, talking on
his phone.

My
other uncle got out of Nino’s
Ferrari, or I should say
great
uncle, even though he was far from
great
. Michael was my grandfather’s half-brother. Everyone
called him the
Padre
, which I never understood. Sure, he wore a black garb, but
it wasn’t like he was a real priest since he’d been excommunicated
years ago for fucking altar boys. Okay, that wasn’t true; it was
just something I told everyone to piss him off. Instead, it had to
do with what he did in the mental institute after Jagger had cut
his pisser off. He went all “Here’s Johnny!” like in
The
Shining
,
killing some people. Another lie I told. Hell, I didn’t know why he
got excommunicated. Maybe it was because priests weren’t supposed
to have sex and he couldn’t keep his pecker to himself.

The
Padre
walked towards me. “Did you shoot Frano?”
he asked.

I rolled my eyes at his
stupidity.
“Duh, I’d be doing the happy dance if I had, you
moron.”

His face soured
at my insult,
causing wrinkles to spider around his eyes. I couldn’t remember how
old he was, but he looked in his late forties. He had grey hair and
bright blue eyes, not as nice as mine of course, but they were
probably his best feature, compared to his warped mind.
The guy was a
complete freak of nature who couldn’t stop talking about sex in
riddles, and loved to
do
teenage boys and their big brothers’ asses.

He stopped a few feet away from
me.
“Watch
your mouth, boy.”

“
I’m not a boy, and I’ll speak
to you however I damn well please, freak.”

His jaw tightened for a moment, then a
smile broke through, the tilt of his lips telling me he had a
snappy comeback. “I’m happy you missed the shot,” he
said.

Well, that was lame. Still, it
pissed me off, because I never missed, especially a shot that meant
something to me. I had liked Frano when I had worked for him, not
romantically of course, since I was hot for his brother. He was
just easy to get along with, but now that he’d destroyed my family
I fucking despised him—unlike the priest, who for some God forsaken
reason still liked the bastard. It was probably because he wanted
to fuck him. Christ, he was fucked in the head. Yeah, Frano was
hot, but still, the
Padre
really was a warped prick. The shit that came out of his
mouth made me want to lock him up in the local loony bin. My late
grandfather should never have gotten him released, since everything
that had gone wrong was due to the
Padre’s
sick obsession with Jagger. If anything, I
wouldn’t mind killing him myself, because just looking at him made
me want to throw-up in my mouth, but I figured I better not piss
off his twin brother. Unlike the
Padre,
Christo was my favorite relative. My other
uncle was someone who knew what he wanted and took it without all
the weird shit that came with his perverted twin.

“
I did tell you that
Go
d wouldn’t
allow you to harm Frano,” the
Padre
said. “He doesn’t deserve to fill a grave; he
deserves to be filled with—”

“—
your c
um?” I said, smirking.

He glared at me.
“No,
love
. That poor boy will be suffering because of his brother’s
death.”

“
So, you show him sympathy, but
give me none?” I said, wanting to punch him, the prick pissing me
off.

“
What
Frano feels is brotherly love, not
the lust you felt.”

“
It wasn’t just lust, it was
love! I loved Alberto, but of course you wouldn’t know what love
means, all you know is your sick rape fantasies, you warped
bastard.”

The
Padre’s
face blackened. “Watch your mouth,
young man.”

“
Or what? You’ll fill it
with
love
?” I said, pretending to wank.

“
What is your problem with
me?”

“
You repulse me. And don’t even
think about
coming near my
ass
; I
wouldn’t put it past you to fuck a relative.”

“
Matteo! Show some respect,”
Nino snapped. Looking angry, he pushed out of his car and stuffed
his phone into his pocket. My uncle Nino was forty and resembled a
younger version of my dead father, just without the salt and pepper
hair and beard, his pure black hair coming straight out of a
bottle.

I
sneered at Nino. “Darth Pedophile
doesn’t deserve respect; he deserves a straightjacket, or a huge
lightsaber rammed up his ass so he knows how it feels.”

Nino stormed up to me, looking like he
wanted to slap the respect he spoke about into me. But he kept his
hands to himself, since he needed me more than I needed him. He
didn’t have the skills to shoot, nor the ability to bullshit people
like I did. All he could do was lick pussy and push out his chest,
trying to show how much of a man he was.

I straightened to my full height, which
was five inches taller than Nino, purposely looking down on him. He
was about five-foot-nine and stocky as hell, but not as stocky as
the priest, who looked like he was in training for the
weight-lifting team with his mother of a neck. The dude really was
a freak.

“
Uncle Nino,
” I said, “you need to remember
who’s running this show, and if you want all of our family back, do
as
I
say.”

“
You arrogant little
shit;
I’m
the head of the
famiglia
until Christo returns—not you.”

“
Believe whatever the hell you
like, but I’m not stepping down until the uncle with balls shows
up.”

“
That’s why
you’
ll never
be Don. You have no respect for anyone.”

“
I do for Christo, but you and
the fake priest don’t deserve my respect. All he does is create
shitstorms, while all you care about is trying to look important,
whereas I know I’m important.”

“
You’re not important; you’re a
smart ass who doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.”

I glanced at the
Padre
and waggled my
tongue at him. “I would never be a smart ass around Darth
Fuckabutt.”

“
Apologize!” Nino yelled,
looking like he was going to pop a few blood vessels.

I extended my middle finger. “Sit on
this.”

He raised his hand.

“
You hit me, and you’ll end up
on your ass.”

He lowered his hand, knowing full well I
could take him out with one kick.

“
Your father would be upset with
how you’re treating the
Padre
.”

“
Like hell, he called him
names too.”

“
What about me then? He would
definitely be upset with the way you’re treating
me.
He said that if
anything happened to him and your grandfather then I would be the
next don of our
famiglia.
”

“
Don’t give me that shit. You’re
not good enough to be a don. You’re a weak shadow of my father’s
greatness, a faded carbon copy.”

My uncle’s
harsh expression wavered, the
pain in his blue eyes stark, the mention of his dead brother
hurting him as much as it did me. I may have been a cunt to my dad,
but I still loved him, and would’ve done anything for him as he
would have for me. Even though he hadn’t been around much when I
was a kid, he still visited and provided for me and my mom. He’d
sent me through private school, making sure I only had the best. It
was because I was his favorite bastard child, which was mainly due
to the fact I was the only blond in my family, something he
constantly bragged about. I looked like the “All American” boy next
door, someone who people trusted with a glance, my smile sweet and
my looks even sweeter. Of course, I used it to my full advantage,
fooling people into believing my sweet face meant I had a sweet
nature. Ha! No fucking way, even I thought I was a cunt, just a hot
one.