My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 3 by Marita A. Hansen Page B

with you, so don’t interfere.”
    “ I’ m your brother’s guard; I’m here to
protect him from you.”
    “ And who is here to protect me
from your scum masters?!” I yelled. “This is my house. MINE!”
    “ Calm down, Frano,”
Alberto said. “This is only temporary.”
    My attention snapped back to my
brother. “I’m in a fucking slave cell, temporary is not good
enough!”
    “ I understand you’re
angry—”
    “ You understand
nothing! ” I
jabbed a finger at his face, making him take a step back. “Our
father was right about you. He knew you wanted Jagger, whereas I
was just a fool who thought he was being too harsh on you. But he
wasn’t, because you’re a sick fuck who deserves to go to
Hell!”
    Alberto’s face hardened, no, not just
hardened, it turned vicious. He looked like he wanted to smash me
into nothing but blood and guts, which right now I wanted to do to
him, my whole body practically vibrating, telling me to attack,
attack, attack...
    “ I am not sick!” Alberto
hollered. “Our father is sick! He buried our mother alive! Yet you
look at me like I’m the repulsive one because I love
Jagger?”
    “ You love Jagger?” I
said, totally dumbfounded, his words so ludicrous I couldn’t
believe he’d uttered them. Alberto had been nothing but cruel to
Jagger, pushing him around, bullying him like an overgrown school
kid.
    “ I do! But because of our father
I couldn’t do anything about it! For years I’ve had to
h ide my
feelings for Jagger. Well, I’m not tolerating it anymore, I’m
taking what I want and to hell with you if you think that’s
wrong!”
    “ It is wrong! You raped him!”
    “ I didn’t rape him, I made
love to him.”
    “ You’re fucki ng delusional if you think
that.”
    “ I am not!” Alberto screamed,
his face now purple with fury, his eyes blazing.
    I shook my head, not
understanding how he could be so stupid. “What you’re saying and doing is not
only despicable; it’s pathetic, stupid, beyond comprehension. You
say you love Jagger, yet you hand him over to the men who want him
dead, the same cruel sadists who are butchering him.” I pointed in
the direction of Jagger’s cell. “How can you allow that to happen
if you love him?”
    “ He is not being butchered,
the Padre has given me his word, all he’s doing is making Jagger pay,
and rightly so for dismembering him.”
    As if to disagree with Alberto,
a yell came
from the next room, Jagger pleading for the Padre to stop. I looked over at the wall,
imagining the priest cutting Jagger one small slice at a time,
taking revenge for my cousin cutting his cock off. My heart fell as
Jagger’s voice changed in tone. It was eerily similar to how the
women sounded when they were being raped, the horror inherent in
their voices, the pleading that was always ignored.
    I looked back at
Alberto. “Jagger was telling the truth about the Padre all along,” I said, praying that
Alberto would say no, even though I knew it was true, Jagger’s
pleas telling me I had been an even bigger fool for believing the
priest over my cousin.
    “ S ì ,”
Alberto answered. “That’s why our father refused to hand him over
to the Donatelli. But they threatened to storm our house, so he
sent me in like a lamb to the slaughter to negotiate a deal to save
Jagger’s life.” Alberto’s expression darkened. “He didn’t say it in
so many words, but I know he was hoping I didn’t come back. But I
made a deal with them...” He stopped talking, guilt now playing
across his face.
    “ What deal?” I asked.
    “ You don’t need to
know.”
    “ I do! So tell
me!”
    Alberto ran a hand over his face, then let
out a huge sigh as though his next words pained him. “I said once
our father stepped down as don, they could take Jagger as long as I
could have access to him whenever I wanted.”
    “ You what?”
    “ They knew Father wouldn’t last
much longer, which was why they agreed. But when you took over as
don I asked