“
I was the boy who killed his first man at eleven.
I was the teenager who crushed his cousin’s throat at seventeen.
I was the man who bathed in his enemies’ blood without a flicker of remorse, who relished in their screams as if it was a fucking Mozart sonata.
Monsters are created, not born.
Bullshit.
I was born a monster. Cruelty ran in my veins like poison. It ran in the veins of every Vitiello man, passed on from father to son, an endless spiral of monstrosity.
I was a born monster shaped into an even worse monster by my father’s blade and fists and harsh words.
I was raised to become Capo, to rule without mercy, to dish out brutality without a second thought.
I was raised to break others.
When Aria was given to me in marriage, everyone waited with baited breath to see how fast I’d break her like my father broke his women. How I’d crush her innocence and kindness with the force of my cruelty, with relentless brutality.
Breaking her would have taken little effort. It came naturally to me.
A man born a monster, raised to be a monster, bound to be a monster to become Capo.
I was gladly the monster everyone feared.
Until her. Until Aria.
With her, I didn’t have to cover up my darkness.
Her light shone brighter than my darkness ever could.
With her, I didn’t want to be the monster. I wanted to shield her from that part of my nature.
But I was born a monster. Raised to break others.
Not breaking her would come with a price.
A price a monster like myself shouldn’t risk paying.
”
”