The Missing Princess

12: Pain

"Fottuto pezzo di merda!" (Fucking piece of shit!) I spat.

Their fucking leader, Jaworski, was already passed out after I had my fun chopping all of his fingers. He's the one who I intended to keep alive the longest, so I'm done with him for the meantime. I still want him alive.

But that still didn't feel enough for me. I still wasn't satisfied. It's as though I've only just given this bastard on my feet an easy death, even though I literally tortured the hell out of him and the rest of their little group. But it still wasn't giving me any sort of satisfaction. I want more.

My principessa suffered more than that. My poor neonata (baby girl) could have only screamed and cried as they hurt her.

My sweet girl was in so much pain because of them.

I grabbed the nearest thing beside me, which turned out to be a sledgehammer. I was filled with so much rage, and I could only see red as I raised the sledgehammer and hit the fucking bastard in the head again, again, and again until his fucking corpse fell through the cemented floor, but I didn't stop.

His other accomplices even screamed and cried louder than before as they watched the devil in me release its rage.

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

I don't want to stop.

"MIKHAIL! WHAT THE HELL?"

Fucking Kirill.

No one in their right mind would be stupid enough to stop me when I'm being like this, except for Kirill.

I rarely lose my cool in front of my men. Uncle Ivan always told me not to let our emotions cloud our judgement and that we must not show our true selves when conducting business. So they all knew just how fucking serious this is—that I'm letting my inner demon loose.

He pulled me off the bastard, grabbed the sledgehammer out of my hand, and threw it to the side.

"Fanculo, Kirill." I cursed and shrugged his hands off of me.

"The bastard's dead. That's enough. " He exclaimed, but I only rolled my eyes and my hands balled into fists.

"No, it's not enough. It's not going to be fucking enough until I make each one of them pay for what they did to my little sister!" I yelled as I glared at the other six bastards who were still breathing, and they all shuddered in fear as my dark glare caught theirs.

There is still one more bastard missing.

Luciano. My father.

***

-Giovanni Di Luca-

"Don't be so sad anymore, tesoro."

I'm really bad at comforting another person, even my own sorellina. In my defence, it has really been a while since I opened my heart again and let all my feelings come back to the surface.

I'm a doctor, a surgeon, who only really cares about doing my job around my patients, and that's it. I'm not the kind of doctor who forms even a miniscule kind of relationship with my patients; I only care about treating them, and that's it.

I'm also an absent brother to my own brothers; I basically disowned my own family when I was eighteen. I hated being related to them. I hated bearing the last name I have. I hate all of it.

So ever since then, I've been really on my own.

But with my Isabella back, I am more than willing to swallow my pride and hatred. I am more than willing to be the kind of person she needs and wants.