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44 | Poetic one

A D R I A N O

The moment Valentina left the room, the air changed.

The low lamplight bathed the walls in gold. The fireplace crackled, casting shadows across the floor. But none of us were really looking at that. We were all staring at each other.

"Chicago, huh," I muttered, rolling the baseball in my palm. "She really found him."

Giovanni gave a low whistle, then smirked. "She didn't just find him. She's bringing him."

Lorenzo sipped his coffee, unbothered as always. "Alive, for now."

I tossed the ball once, caught it, and stood up. "Not for long."

Rocco arched a brow from the corner where he leaned against the wall. "She said alive."

"She also said barely," I reminded him.

That got a couple of nods. We all knew what that meant.

Alessio, quiet and cold, finally spoke up. "I want five minutes with him."

"You'll have to fight me for it," Matteo muttered, cracking his neck.

I chuckled. "All of you can line up for your turn, but let's not forget who gets to kill him."

"Valentina," Lorenzo said simply.

"Damn right," I said.

There was no question. No debate. That was hers.

"I want to see it," Alessio said. His tone was low, steady. "I want to watch when she does it."

"I want to hear him scream," Matteo added, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

"I want to break his jaw,"Giovanni said, almost casually. "See how tough he sounds then."

Rocco let out a slow breath through his nose. "You guys ever think about how calm she was when she told us?"

"She's always like that," Lorenzo said, setting his cup down.

I nodded, pacing a little. "That's the thing with her. You never see it coming."

"She's already decided," Giovanni said. "The moment he steps through those doors, it's done. She's just waiting."

"Good," I muttered. "Because I've been waiting too."

Silence settled in for a beat. Heavy. Thick.

We all remembered what he did.

We all remembered Martha.

The woman who took care of Val when no one else could. The woman who got murdered—because of him. Because of Eric Wheeler and the scum he worked with.

"He dies slow," I said, stopping in the center of the room. "No mercy. No clean shot to the head. He suffers. Like she did."

Giovanni nodded. "We tie him to the chair."

"I'll get the knives," Alessio offered. No hesitation.

Matteo sat up, expression suddenly eager. "Wait—what if we lock him in the basement? Let him sit there for a few hours. No food. No light. Just silence. Let it sink in what's coming."

Rocco hummed. "Let Valentina walk in and out. Let him see her and never know when she's going to snap."

I grinned. "Psychological torture. You always were the poetic one, Rocco."

"She deserves that moment," Lorenzo said. His voice was calm but hard-edged. "He took someone from her. He made her bleed."

"She's gonna make him suffer," I said again, like I needed to hear it out loud. "Really suffer."

Giovanni's expression was darker than usual. "She'll make it last."

"Good," I muttered. "He deserves worse."

"You saw her face," Alessio said. "When she said it. That look in her eyes. Cold. Focused."

"She's already picturing it," Matteo said with a grin.

"And we're all gonna make sure no one gets in her way," I added, sitting back down and tossing the baseball onto the couch. "No one interferes. No interruptions. When she's ready—she finishes it."

Everyone nodded.

I looked around at my brothers. Each one of us carried our own kind of fire. Some were colder, like Lorenzo. Some burnt wild, like Matteo or Gio. But all of us were lit up the moment she said his name.

We weren't angry. We were furious. 

I leaned back, folding my arms. My heart still pounded like a drum in my chest. But it wasn't nerves. It was energy. Anticipation.

I was ready. We all were.

And when the moment came, when that bastard was dragged into this house, bleeding and broken.

She'd be the one to end it.

WORD COUNT-1520

love you dalrings<3