Mafia Legacy (Book #1 - Mafia Series)

Part 12

"Are you done flirting? Can we get back to this now?"

"We get back to it when I say we do," Niccolo replied as he put his phone back in his pocket.

The little impromptu phone call was good; it gave that fucker time to stew and it gave Niccolo a chance to plan his next move. He had been taking his time with this one. He had given them false information already and Niccolo wasn't playing on messing around. The longer he dragged it out, the better. He'd end his pathetic life once he was sure he couldn't get anything out of him.

Niccolo stared down at the man, whose head was leaning forward, his black hair covering his face. The blood dripping from his injuries continued to form a puddle at his feet, the sound of the drops falling onto the concrete echoing in the quiet room. He grabbed his hair, forcing his head backward. He had punched him enough time that his nose was nothing more than a mess of flesh in the middle of his face.

"I don't like repeating myself," he said, his tone lower than before. "If you're useless to me, then you might as well be dead."

So far, he had his life spared as he provided just enough not to be killed. After all, he was the sole survivor. As much as Niccolo wanted to rip him apart, he couldn't do that until he had something to go on. He knew the Devil was behind it; he knew he was the target but that wasn't enough.

The Devil had never liked him but- why target him personally now? It didn't make sense. There were always hits and casualties, but this was different. He had never almost died like this. He had never been the one who was the victim of such an ambush, and he knew nothing was a coincidence. The Devil always carefully planned each of his moves.

"Why?"

But no response came from the man. Instead, he spat blood, which dripped down his chin and unto Niccolo's arm. Niccolo placed his palm flat against his enemy's chest, his blunt nails scratching at the skin.

"Y-you can't win."

Niccolo smirked. "Is that so?"

He released his hold on his hair, backing away from him. The man watched him, fear shining in his eyes as he lifted one leg. He kicked him in the stomach with his foot, the chair toppling backward and taking him along with it. Niccolo stepped on his chest, the weight of his body putting pressure on his ribs, the man's whole body trembling.

"I said why?" he asked again, applying more his weight down.

He was gasping for air - very unsuccessfully by the look of it. "To k-ill you - I told you," he replied between gasping breaths.

"Not good enough. Why now?" Another step forward, breaking ribs this time. The sound of the fragile bones shattering sent a shiver up his spine. Good.

"He wants to expand."

"Lie."

He had wanted to expand for years - and he had successfully done so. He didn't need him out of the way for that. He stepped off the man before grabbing him by the arm. Using his newfound hold on him, he used his strength to launch him into the nearby wall. The metal chair collided with the wall first, clinging as it left a dent in it.

The man's head followed, and they heard a bone-crushing sound. No one moved. They kept their distance from Niccolo and the prisoner, remaining motionless.

"I said why now?" he roared.

His lips parted a few times, but no sound came out. Instead, more blood spilled, tainting his teeth red. One ragged breath and he managed a moan before speaking. "He wa-wants what's yours."