Heartless Guardian (Preview)
Chapter 1
Dom
I walk with one of Carmelo’s men as he leads me to his study. The guy is built like a brick wall. His arms are as thick as tree trunks, and he has the neck of a bull. It is a very intimidating body to the average Joe, but I know that if I hit a few pressure points just right, he’d drop like a sack of potatoes. After years as a Camorra underboss and the last six in deep cover, a goon like him doesn’t faze me one bit.
We walk down the hall lined with ugly paintings and gaudy vases. There are CCTV cameras in almost every corner, just like the map showed. Whoever designed this place had one thing in mind: security. I can’t say they’ve done a good job though. I snicker at the thought because if they had, I wouldn’t have a detailed map of the house or know its blind spots. We reach the double doors of Carmelo’s study, where two more meatheads are guarding the entrance. Brick Wall knocks and a gravelly voice calls out “Come in.”
My pulse jumps at the sound of that voice. All the hairs on my body stand up. I’ve spoken to Carmelo before but hearing that voice now that I know he planned Jennifer’s death sends a cold thrill down my spine.
Brick Wall opens the heavy oak door and pokes his head into the study.
“Mr. Barone, the new guy is here,” he announces.
“Well don’t just stand there, send him in,” Carmelo replies impatiently.
Brick Wall steps back and gestures for me to enter. I steel myself and walk through the doorway, hearing the door shut close behind me.
Inside, a short, wiry man sits behind an ornate, antique desk. His hairline is receding and his face looks like it was chiseled from granite. His beady eyes fix on me as I approach. This is Carmelo Barone, Capodecina of the Cosa Nostra New York crime family. The man I am here to kill. It takes all my self-control not to leap over the desk and snap his scrawny neck right now.
“Giovanni Micheli, right?” he asks, extending a bony hand. I resist the urge to crush his fingers as I shake it.
“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the leather chair across from his desk. I sit down slowly, hyper aware of the pistol strapped to my ankle. Carmelo settles back into his own chair but perches on the edge, as if he’s ready to leap up at any moment. His attempt to seem imposing would be comical if I didn’t know what he is capable of.
“Thank you for hiring me, Mr. Barone,” I reply evenly. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to join your security team.”
Carmelo studies me with his beady eyes. “I only hire the best to protect my family. Don Carlo highly recommended you”
I nod as Carmelo stands up. Even standing, he is not much taller than me.
“So, Micheli, you’ll be taking over as my wife’s personal bodyguard,” Carmelo begins, pointing a finger at me. “I expect you to keep an eye on her at all times. No slacking off.”
He paces back and forth behind his desk. “Report to me on everywhere she goes and everything she does. I want detailed daily reports. Understand?”
I nod. “Yes sir, of course.”
“She’s only allowed to go to the gym twice a week. No more than that,” he says sharply. “I can’t have her putting on too much muscle and looking like a freak. A woman needs to look like a woman, with delicate curves and soft breasts. You know what I mean.”
I don’t respond. Because what does he expect me to say? Men who treat their women like this disgust me.
“One more thing,” Carmelo’s lips curl into a cruel smirk. “Mia isn’t allowed any outside contact. No phone, no internet, no leaving the estate unless I give express permission. I need you to monitor her every move.”
I force a neutral nod, swallowing the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat.
“And she only eats when I say so,” he leans forward with a twisted glint in his eyes. “Withholding food is the best way to keep that little firecracker in line. I’ve given the cook instructions to prepare mostly salads and lean protein, small portions. She used to be an athlete so she’ll eat like a horse given the chance.”
He guffaws as if this is hilarious while I force an obliging smile, clenching my fists under the desk. What a sick psycho. This animal and his warped views make me sick. Starving his wife as some twisted form of control.
“You let me know if she tries to sneak any extra food,” he orders.
“Of course, sir,” I reply evenly, despite the rage boiling inside me. It’s taken me six years to get here. Six years of running around and serving the enemy. Six years of constant investigation to find the person who killed my Jennifer. At first, I thought it was Carlo. Maybe the bastard wanted to go back on his word and cause trouble between Cosa Nostra and Camorra. After five years working as his wife’s bodyguard under my fake identity, Giovanni Micheli, I found out that he wasn’t the one who gave the order. It was the capodecina. The man sitting in front of me. I clench my fist so tight my knuckles turn white. Carmelo is not going to know what hit him.
“A woman shouldn’t look like a man! You understand me, right?” Carmelo insists.
I force a laugh, playing along with Carmelo’s twisted misogyny. “Yes, sir. A woman shouldn’t be too muscular or manly.”
Carmelo nods, seeming pleased that I agree with him. He sits back down in his chair, and regards me with a smug expression.
“But a tough guy like you probably doesn’t understand,” he says mockingly. “I know you prefer the company of men.”
I raise my eyebrows, feigning confusion. Carmelo chuckles.
“Come on, Micheli. Don’t play dumb. We all know you’re light in the loafers,” he says, tapping his temple. “Why do you think I picked you for this job?”
I just wait for him to elaborate.
“I need a bodyguard who won’t try to stick it in my wife, ya’ get it?” Carmelo explains. “So you’re perfect.”
I force myself not to react to his crude words, maintaining a neutral expression.
Carmelo leans forward, steepling his fingers. “It has been noticed that you never spend time with women. No dates, no girls on the side, nothing. So we figured out your preferences.” He raises his hands in mock surrender before he continues. “There ain’t nothing wrong with that. It works out very well for me, actually.”
I chuckle, playing along with Carmelo’s homophobic assumptions even as they make my blood boil. This man is truly despicable. But I know I need to play along if I want to get close enough to exact my revenge.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about me making any moves on your wife, sir,” I reply evenly. “My interests lie elsewhere, as you’ve rightly guessed.”
Carmelo laughs loudly, slapping his thigh. “I knew it! A tough guy like you, never chasing any pretty little bitch? It was obvious.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “So tell me, Micheli, you got yourself a fella on the side here in Cosa Nostra? Who does the bending? Ahhh, a guy your size would top I’m sure”
What the hell? He’s not only a sick fuck, he’s also a homophobic bastard. I shake my head. “No sir, I’m afraid I don’t have time for romance in my line of work.”
“Yeah, yeah, the strong silent type. I get it.” Carmelo leans back in his chair. “Good, that means you’ll stay focused on the job. I don’t need you distracted by my wife’s looks. She’s a real knockout, let me tell you.”
I picture just what kind of woman could end up with this vile man. She must be a gold digger or as twisted as him. The thought of her makes my skin crawl already.
Just then, a soft knock sounds at the study door. Carmelo glances at his watch and scowls. “About time!” he barks. “Get in here!”
The door opens and a petite brunette enters the room. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. She’s stunning, with large green eyes and delicate features. Her long hair cascades over her shoulders in soft waves.
She’s dressed in a tight red mini dress that clings to every curve, with a neckline that is plunging low. Very low. She is wearing black stiletto heels that accentuate her toned, athletic legs. It’s far too provocative an outfit for the middle of the day.
As she nears, I notice her slight frame is tense, and her shoulders are hunched inward. She reaches up a hand to pull the front of her dress higher, trying to cover more of her exposed cleavage. The movement seems self-conscious, almost protective.
When she glances up, her striking green eyes flash with defiance, and her chin juts out in a subtle show of stubbornness despite her meek posture. Those eyes contrast starkly with her timid demeanor, revealing a hint of the fire within.
“This is my wife Mia,” Carmelo announces.
I stand up immediately, years of etiquette kicking in despite my mission.
Mia Barone is nothing like I pictured when I took this assignment. She’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve seen since Jennifer. Her green eyes are piercing, and that red dress clings to every sensuous curve. There’s an allure to her that catches me completely off guard. I clench my jaw, regaining my composure through sheer force of will. I cannot forget why I’m here. She is nothing but a means to an end. No matter how strikingly beautiful she may be.
I cannot allow myself to be distracted by this woman. She is just a means to an end: getting my revenge.
Chapter 2
Mia
“Maddie, I’m running low again,” I say into the phone, my voice barely above a whisper. I pace the length of my big room, my prison cell, glancing nervously at the door.
“Oh no,” comes Maddie’s concerned reply. “When will you need more?”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Soon. Very soon.”
She sighs. “I wish you could just come by the clinic. It would be easier.”
“You know I can’t.” I sink onto the edge of the plush king-sized bed, the silky comforter bunching beneath me. “It’s too risky…” I trail off, but she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“I know, I know. But we’ll figure something out, okay? I promise.” Her voice shakes slightly with emotion.
“What about we meet during…”
There’s a knock at the door and I yelp, flinging my phone under the pillow. I take a deep breath and pull on a brave face before answering in what I hope is a casual tone, “Yes? Who is it?”
“Mrs. Barone, just a reminder that you and the boss have that event tonight,” he says from behind the door.
“I’ll be ready.” I let out a shaky sigh, dreading having to play the doting wife in public again, but I know better than to keep Carmelo waiting.
I walk to the massive closet and pull out the slinky red gown Carmelo bought for me. The neckline is very low and half my breasts will be spilling out of the dress, just like he loves it. Except dressing like this makes me feel like an object on display.
I peel off my comfortable clothes and step into it, zipping it up with some effort. The neckline plunges as I expected and the slit up the side is so high it practically meets my hip. I tug at the top, trying to cover up a bit, but it’s no use. I still look like a prized doll.
I leave the gown primly in place and go to the vanity. I redo my makeup, lining my eyes with a subtle smokey look. Carmelo hates it when I wear too much makeup. Last time I did, he scrubbed it off himself in front of his men. That was humiliating.
“Who is all this make up for? Are you begging to be fucked by my men? You look disgusting,” he’d said.
Another impatient knock. “Andiamo, you don’t have all day!”
I catch my reflection and recoil inwardly. The way the gown clings too tightly makes my skin crawl. This isn’t me. This gaudy, objectified persona is Carmelo’s creation. But it’s not like I have any other choice than to play the role he’s assigned me if I want any chance at freedom.
I take one last breath and head for the door. Time to put on the act once more. The door flies open before I can reach for the handle. The guard’s eyes go wide as he takes in my appearance, but he recovers quickly with a disapproving scowl.
“Mr. Barone is waiting in his study. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting any longer.” His disdainful glare burns into me.
I brush past him without a word, my heart pounding. What new humiliation did my beloved husband have in store this time?
I take a deep breath and enter Carmelo’s luxurious study after knocking, keeping my gaze lowered submissively. But despite my best efforts, my eyes are immediately drawn to the tall, muscular stranger sitting silently near Carmelo’s desk.
Our eyes meet for a brief electric moment before I quickly avert my gaze. But that fleeting connection is enough to send a spark through my entire body.
I keep my gaze lowered, not daring to look at the handsome stranger again. But I can feel his presence like a physical force in the room, making the hairs on my arms stand up. Why does he have to be so handsome? The last thing I need on my hand is another death. Carmelo would not even wait for an explanation. He would place the man’s head on a platter in a second if he suspected anything is happening. He did it to two of my previous bodyguards and I wasn’t even remotely attracted to either of them.
I suppress a shudder as Carmelo’s expensive loafers click against the hardwood, announcing he’s approaching me. Every muscle in my body tenses instinctively, bracing for whatever cruelty he has planned this time.
“You’re late, piccina.” His hand clamps down on my backside with a harsh, possessive squeeze that makes me flinch. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Forgive me, it won’t happen again,” I murmur automatically, the placating words as hollow and meaningless as they’ve become after months of abuse.
Carmelo chuckles darkly, giving my ass another demeaning grope just to reinforce his control. “No, I don’t suppose it will. Not with your new bodyguard here to keep you in line.”
He gestures dismissively at Giovanni’s imposing form. “This is Giovanni Micheli. From now on, he’ll be watching over you at all times to ensure your… obedience.”
The man stretches out his hand towards me “Mrs. Barone, pleasure to meet you. I’m Giovanni Micheli, your new bodyguard,”
I risk a brief glance at Giovanni. He’s even more striking up close, with sharp cheekbones and smoldering dark eyes. I am in trouble.
I look nervously at Carmelo, seeking his approval before I dare touch another man in his presence. He nods curtly, seeming unconcerned. But I know better than to fully trust any allowance he makes. This is likely a trap, a test to see if I’ll eagerly leap at the chance for male contact. If I take the bait, I’ll likely be punished later for falling into his trap.
Carmelo nods sharply. “Go on, shake his hand.”
Refusing now that he has given his permission could provoke his temper even more. I have no choice but to play along with whatever game he has devised. I reach out and gingerly take Giovanni’s outstretched hand. His palm engulfs my own, warm and calloused. I fight to maintain my composure, though my knees nearly buckle. No man has elicited such a visceral reaction from me before. I want nothing more than to cling to his strong hand forever. But I let go after the briefest contact, dropping my hand quickly to my side.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Micheli,” I murmur demurely. I can still feel the imprint of his touch lingering on my skin and I don’t hate it.
I take another short glance at Giovanni. I can’t decide if his stoic professionalism is more unsettling or reassuring than the leering looks I usually get from Carmelo’s men.
Before I can process anything, Carmelo yanks me back against him. The scratch of his rough stubble scrapes my cheek as he forces his thin lips onto mine, invading my personal space yet again. I clench my jaw and I refuse to make a sound, denying him the satisfaction.
His grip on my arm tightens painfully, nails digging into my skin. Sensing my defiance, he bites down on my lower lip, making me cry out despite myself. Tears prick at my eyes but I force them back, refusing to show weakness in front of this stranger.
Reluctantly, I part my lips just enough to offer the barest glimpse of submission, allowing Carmelo’s tongue to violate me as he pleases. All the while, I can feel Giovanni’s gaze boring into me as I give in to this degradation.
After what feels like an eternity, Carmelo finally pulls back, a smug smirk on his thin lips. His hand travels up to grip my chin roughly before tilting my head up to meet his cold eyes. “You’ll learn to enjoy it eventually,” he sneers, before releasing me with a shove.
I stumble but quickly right myself, blinking back tears of humiliation. His casual cruelty cuts me to the core once again, reducing me to nothing but a plaything for his twisted amusement.
I clench my jaw as Carmelo’s cold hand trails down my exposed cleavage, his long nails scraping my skin. Bile rises in my throat but I force it back down, refusing to show any reaction. He dips the clothes down again to reveal more cleavage before he squeezes my breasts.
Carmelo wants to hide any evidence that I used to be an athlete with muscles. He hates that part of my past, my independence and ambition. So he delights in forcing me into the tiniest, tightest dresses possible, erasing my athletic physique and reducing me to a weak, passive doll.
I have to clench every muscle to keep this dress from slipping indecently. One wrong move and my entire breast could tumble out.
The silky material feels like there are thousands of crawling insects on my body. I feel like a painted hooker in a window, dressed up and displayed for men’s consumption. Except my owner never lets me leave my box, only taking me out to show off before locking me away again.
At the events we go to, Carmelo parades me around like a prized possession. I’m meant to smile vapidly, laugh emptily at vulgar jokes, and ooze sexuality. But God forbid any man tries speaking to me alone. Just a friendly chat could end with a bullet in their brain. And I’m always the one who suffers for it later.
So I play my part, become the doll I’m expected to be. I walk elegantly in these impossible heels and dress, and I even giggle mindlessly at their lewd comments. Anything to avoid Carmelo’s wrath when we’re alone again.
I suppress a sigh as Carmelo’s cold hand finally releases me. My skin still crawls where he touched me, his possessive grip sure to leave bruises on my arm. I smooth my expression into a mask of calm indifference, refusing to let him see how deeply his actions hurt me.
“Let’s go. We don’t have all day.”
As we head for the door, I chance another glance at the imposing form of my new bodyguard. Giovanni’s dark gaze is fixed straight ahead, his expression unreadable. Yet I feel the weight of his attention like a physical force, and it makes my pulse quicken despite my attempts to ignore it.
There’s an undeniable magnetism between us, like opposite poles of a magnet straining to connect. I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching out, just for the relief of human touch without cruelty or possession behind it. But reality crashes back in an instant later when I meet his eyes. They are cold and hard as flint, narrowed with unmistakable contempt and judgment. My cheeks burn with shame under that withering stare. Of course he despises me, just like all the others. And nothing can ever happen between us anyway.
I drop my gaze quickly, angry at myself. I don’t have the luxury of indulging in fantasies. My focus needs to remain on enduring, surviving each day under Carmelo’s thumb until I can finally make my escape. Until I can leave here safely with my family. I can’t afford to be distracted by impossible daydreams, no matter how strong the temptation. Especially not when I know that Carmelo can replace me with my sister if I make the wrong move.
As we step outside, I paste on my best plastic smile, allowing Carmelo to wrap a possessive arm around my waist. His grip is bruising, as usual, even through the layers of my gown, pressing my hip bones together painfully. But I don’t let my smile falter.
My heart feels like a lead weight in my chest, but I ignore it. Just a little longer, I tell myself. Just a little longer and then it will all be over.
Chapter 3
Dom
Six years ago, Boston
I take a long swig of my beer as Ciro claps me on the back. “To my big brother, the best underboss a Don could ask for!”
Ciro’s grin is infectious and I can’t help but smile back. “I should be the one toasting you, little brother. You’re the new leader of the Esposito clan now.”
“Only because you stepped aside to let me take over from Papà,” Ciro says. “I won’t forget that.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. You’re better suited to being the boss. Me?” I chuckle and shake my head. “I’m happy to support you from the shadows.”
Ciro’s expression grows serious. “I know you only gave up the position for Jennifer’s sake. For the chance to have a normal life with her.”
At the mention of my beloved’s name, my chest tightens. “She’s my whole world Ciro,” I reply quietly. “I’d sacrifice anything for her. I don’t want Jenny in this life. “
“And that’s why you’ll make a great underboss. Family first, always.” Ciro’s eyes mist over slightly before he recovers, slapping the bar cheerfully. “Drink up! Tonight we celebrate!”
I take another swig of beer, savoring the cold bitterness. Ciro doesn’t know how right he is. I would do anything for my family, even give up my birthright. But Jennifer is my family now too. As long as I have her by my side, I’m content to help Ciro in whatever way I can while avoiding the spotlight.
Ciro has always been better with the politics of running the clan anyway. He has the charm and temperament to manage the soldiers and keep the other families happy. Me? I’m better at working quietly in the background, taking care of problems.
And at the end of the day, I get to leave the darkness behind and return home to Jennifer’s embrace. To her warmth and light that makes all the shadows in my soul fade away. As long as I have that refuge to go back to, I’ll gladly play the silent sentinel while Ciro soaks up the glory. He can have the power, as long as I have the peace that comes from Jennifer’s love.
“When are you going to stop dragging your feet and finally ask Jennifer to marry you?” Ciro asks, nudging me in the side.
I smile and take a sip of my beer. “Actually, I’m planning to propose tonight.”
Ciro’s eyebrows shoot up. “Tonight? Well, it’s about damn time!” He laughs and claps me on the shoulder. “So what’s the plan, big brother? Candles, roses, you down on one knee?”
“Something like that,” I say. “I spoke to Flaminia, like you suggested, and she gave Jennifer her tickets to that opera concert tonight. After the concert, I’m going to have her meet me at the gazebo in the park. That’s where I’ll ask her.”
Ciro nods approvingly. “Ahhh, so you finally agreed and used my wife as an excuse to get Jennifer alone, I like it. See why you should listen to me more often. Sneaky bastard.” He grins and nudges me again.
I chuckle. “Hey, a man’s got to pull out all the stops when it comes to a marriage proposal. I want it to be perfect.” I take another swig of beer as excitement and nerves swirl in my gut.
“She won’t be expecting it at all. And that gazebo is so romantic, with the lights and the fountain,” Ciro says. “You old softy, look at you sweeping Jennifer off her feet.”
“What can I say, she brings it out in me.” I smile thinking about how Jennifer’s kindness and warmth have changed me. “Honestly, it was genius getting your wife involved. Jennifer will have no idea.”
Ciro waves dismissively. “Don’t mention it, anything for my future sister-in-law. Just make sure you don’t screw it up!” He laughs and squeezes my shoulder affectionately.
I grin back at him, gratitude welling up inside. With Ciro’s help, tonight will be absolutely perfect. Jennifer deserves the most beautiful proposal and fairytale romance. After everything we’ve endured, she’s my happy ending.
***
I lean against my sleek black bulletproof BMW x6 car, fiddling with the small velvet box in my pocket. Inside rests the diamond ring I finally bought for Jennifer
I check my watch, then pull out my phone to call her. “Hey babe, I’m outside the theater waiting for you. I’m with the BMW, and it’s parked on 5th near the side entrance.”
I smile as I imagine her excitement at the surprise. “I can’t wait to see you, I’ve got a special night planned for us,” I say into the phone. “Alright, I’ll be right here. Love you, see you soo-“
A deafening boom cuts me off, the force of the explosion throwing me back against the car. I hit the ground hard, ears ringing. Smoke and flames pour out of the theater’s wrecked entrance. Screams pierce through the haze as I stagger to my feet.
“Jennifer!” I shout hoarsely, lurching towards the chaos. My heart hammers against my ribs. This can’t be happening.
I don’t know how long the force of the blast destabilizes me but there are police cars nearby, and some officers have already set up a perimeter. I push through the crowd gathering outside the barricades.
“Sir, you need to stay back!” An officer grabs my arm.
I wrench away from him. “My girlfriend’s in there, I have to find her!”
“It’s too dangerous, we’ll handle search and rescue,” he says, holding me back more firmly.
I run a shaky hand through my hair, blinking back tears as the reality sets in. If Jennifer was inside when the bomb went off…
I sink to my knees on the sidewalk. She can’t be gone. My fierce, vibrant Jennifer, snuffed out in an instant. The aching hole in my chest threatens to swallow me.
The officer’s radio crackles to life. “No survivors found yet, massive casualties reported.”
Bile rises in my throat as his words confirm my worst fears. Jennifer is gone. Just like that.
Rage replaces the despair and it burns through my veins like lava. This is not a coincidence. Someone did this. Someone planned this attack to get at me or Ciro. Flaminia was supposed to be there this evening. This was definitely a hit against our Clan.
I think of the ring resting useless in my pocket now. The proposal that will never happen. The officer places a hand on my shoulder, jolting me from my dark thoughts. “I’m very sorry for your loss, sir. We’ll provide victim support services…”
I stand abruptly, cutting him off. Right now, all I can focus on is making whoever took Jennifer from me suffer a thousand times over.
As I walk numbly back to the car, my phone buzzes with an incoming call – Ciro. My jaw tightens as I answer.
“Did you hear what happened?” His panicked voice fills my ear.
“She’s gone, Ciro,” I choke out. “Jennifer’s dead.”
He swears violently in Italian. “Brother, I don’t… I’m so sorry. I know how much she meant to you.”
I lean against the car, squeezing my eyes shut against a fresh wave of anguish.
“Those Cosa Nostra bastards,” I spit through gritted teeth. “This was them, wasn’t it?”
Ciro is silent on the other end of the line.
“Tell me!” I demand.
He sighs heavily. “I found a message at the warehouse. They’re taking back the supplier shipment, the whole thing. They’re making us pay for encroaching on their territory.”
I pound my fist on the roof of the car. “They promised to honor the agreement! We split the territory, they get their cut of the merch!”
“Yeah well, they lied,” Ciro says bitterly. “And then they hit us where it hurts as payback.”
Red hot rage courses through me. I think of Jennifer’s smile, her laugh, all erased forever by their cowardly attack.
“I’m gonna slaughter every last one of those Cosa Nostra rats myself!” I continue. “I swear on Jennifer’s head, I won’t rest until I kill those responsible for this.”
“Dom, wait. We should…”
“Ciro, this could have been Flaminia.”
Ciro swears and I hear glass shattering on his end – he must have thrown something. He is breathing hard on the other end but doesn’t respond. “You think I don’t fucking know that. I do, she was supposed to be there instead of Jennifer.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Get someone on the inside for me. This is my path. I will handle them myself.”
Ciro exhales slowly, processing this. “Alright… I’ll give you feedback in half an hour.” He pauses. “Dom please don’t do anything rash. We need to plan this perfectly.”
I glance at the still-smoldering theater, steeling my resolve. “Get me the Intel I need, Ciro.”
I end the call and get in the car, welcomed by solitude. Home is the last place I want to be. It is full of Jennifer’s memories, full of the life we were supposed to share.
I clench my jaw, holding back the flood of sorrow threatening to crush me. As I pull away from the curb, a single tear traces down my cheek. Even if that is the last thing I do before I take my las breath, I’ll get my revenge, I’ll kill every one of the bastards that did this.
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