Page 87 of Marcello

Ciro and Toro untied the prisoner’s hands, which were bound behind his back.

As soon as the Cosa Nostra was free, he thrashed against Ciro and Toro and tried to escape –

But Cesare darted in and punched him in the solar plexus.

The guy doubled over, all the fight gone out of him.

“Stop fucking around and string him up!” Cesare shouted.

Ciro and Toro quickly retied the guy’s hands in front of him, then lifted his body and looped the bindings over a hook.

Now the guy was dangling, his arms stretched over his head, the toes of his shoes barely touching the ground.

“Get out of the way,” Cesare ordered.

Ciro and Toro stepped aside.

Cesare began to dance back and forth like a boxer, fists held up in front of him.

“Hey,” he barked at the Cosa Nostra. “Hey, asshole – you awake?”

The guy slowly lifted his head, blood dripping from his nose and chin. “Vaffan– ”

Cesare shot forward and drove a fist into the guy’s side.

I could hear his ribs cracking from 15 feet away.

The Cosa Nostra screamed.

Cesare went back to his footwork, feet darting back and forth. “What’s Amato doing down at the docks?”

The prisoner whispered, “…va… fan…”

Cesare punched the side of the guy’s face.

The prisoner spun around on the hook. Ciro and Toro rearranged him so he was facing Cesare again.

The Cosa Nostra gurgled in pain, then spat a tooth out onto the floor – a molar with bloody flesh still attached.

I felt the gorge rise in my throat, but I kept it down.

“What’s Amato doing down at the docks?” Cesare asked.

The guy was obviously dazed as he answered, “Va… vaffan– ”

WHAM!

Another blow to the ribs.

I winced at the guy’s screams of pain.

What followed was as predictable as it was brutal.

Cesare would ask what Amato was doing –

Get a half-mumbled fuck you in return –

And land a bone-crunching blow.