I Buried The Don And Took His Throne Chapter 10
The Poisoned Whiskey
He’s still crying, still trying to buy me off with the same cheap tears.
I laugh once, soft, and take a silver tray from one of my girls.
There’s only one thing on it. A crystal tumbler. Two fingers of amber whiskey.
Same drink Marco poured me the first life around.
“Marco.” I crouch down so we’re eye to eye, thn lift the glass to his mouth.
His pupils shrink to pinpoints. Every drop of blood drains out of his face.
He stares at that glass like he’s staring at the devil himself. Scrambles backwards, throat making these wet, choking noises.
“No — no, I won’t drink it — Sloane, you crazy bitch —”
There it is. The mask off. The real Marco, snarling like a cornered dog.
My smile only gets wider. “I had this one shipped in special. Just for you.”
I grab his jaw. Force his head up.
“Consider it a wedding gift. You and Bianca. Together forever. Nobody’s ever gonna split you two up again.”
I glance at my guys.
“Do it.”
Two of them come in on either side and pin him flat to the concrete like he’s a kid throwing a tantrum.
He kicks. He twists. His hair rips loose, his thousand-dollar shirt tears down the front.
The Don of the Vitale Family, three months ago the most feared man on the East Coast, wetting himself on a basement floor.
I take my time, tipping the glass slowly and pouring every last drop of whiskey into his mouth.
“AHHH —!” Marco’s whole body seizes.
He flips over onto his stomach, clawing at the concrete, at his own throat.
Black blood starts coming out of his eyes, ears and nose.
He locks eyes with me. And finally—finally—I see the exact look I know he must have seen on my face before.
Terror. Betrayal. The realization that the person you loved is the one killing you.
“Welcome to the party, Marco.”
Over in the corner, Bianca watches him choke and something in her snaps clean through.
She doesn’t cry. She starts laughing, cackling. But actual tears rolling down her face.
“Good! Good! Die, you piece of garbage! You promised me the Donna seat and you couldn’t even keep yourself alive!”
She’s pointing at Marco’s body with her one good hand, screaming.
“What am I supposed to do now?! I was gonna be the Donna! I was gonna run this Family!”
“Somebody shut her up.”
I stand, wipe the whiskey off my fingertips with a handkerchief and drop it on Marco’s face — right over those wide-open dead eyes.
“Cut her tongue out. Move her to the deep room. Do not let her die.”
“I want her alive long enough to figure out what she actually is without a man and a pretty mouth.”
The guards drag Bianca down the hall by her hair. Her screaming gets thinner the further she gets.
Basement goes quiet. Just me and Marco’s body, going cold on the concrete.
Two lives’ worth of blood. Paid in full.
I keep waiting for the rush. The high. Something.
Nothing comes. Just this flat, empty quiet in my chest.
Dante steps in behind me at some point and drapes his own suit jacket, still warm from his shoulders, over mine.
“It’s done.”
I shake my head, lean back into him and watch the shaft of morning light coming down through the barred window.
“No.”
“This game just started.”