𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

18 || The Fine Print

The Neighbourhood - Cry Baby

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Adrik

I enjoyed a kill as much as the next, but valued the silence more.

It was why my methods were so quick and easy - for the most part. There was hardly ever an instance where someone was special enough to get my time and effort.

But as much as I despised to admit it, that thing of a woman's death was going to be excruciating, painful and as dragged out as possible.

That was the only reason I'd gone back for her.

I needed her alive and a deluded, twisted part of me had claimed her death as mine. In my hands, in my control.

Yet every minute she spends walking around, under my roof, I begin to regret going back for her.

She's more trouble than she's worth to me. Leaving her to die would have been a quicker and easier solution.

Yet here I stand, forced to deal with a consequence of her presence while she's most likely spending her time, plotting my death, sleeping in past noon and raiding my pantry.

The thought sends a surge of annoyance through my chest.

Her mere existence has caused a ripple so deep, it was tilting my entire axis off balance.

That balance was the only thing keeping me level headed. And as much as I was a man with no fears, I feared myself and what I'd do if provoked any further.

My intuition though, tells me it's inevitable and the path to destruction has already begun. It'd found its way into the roots of everything I'd built here in New York and now, all I could do was watch nature take its course.

There was no going back now. It was all a matter of acceptance and damage control.

Silence echos in the large room as thirty three pairs of eyes hone in on me. This was my least favorite thing about the position I'd earned - the interactions.

My father's bratva was large, and since I'd taken over, it'd multiplied into an army. I narrowed down the number of people I needed to interact with in order to ensure optimal success across my entire bratva to sixty six people.

I'd brought thirty three of them with me to America, and left the rest back in Russia to run operations there. Yet even with these people here, I didn't bother myself with interactions.

That's what Dima and Feo were for.

But there were times like these, rare, infuriating, yet crucial where I needed to interact with them all.

"Moye slovo zakon pravil'no?" My voice rings loud and clear thought out the silent room.
(Russian|My word is law, correct?)

Despite my compulsive need for order in all things, there was no hierarchal structure to my bratva. It was all simple really, I was at the top, the rest of them were at the bottom.

I didn't care for titles or giving others below me power to abuse it. These men had sworn their lives to the bratva, to me and I planned on wielding that power to further my own agendas until New York City was just another notch on my belt.

Eyes stare back at me blankly, silence remaining a constant in the room. I marvel in the reaction, knowing silence was nothing but a form of compliance in my eyes.

However, as I stare at a room of a dozen eyes on me, I know some are liars, traitors and rats. A problem I hadn't had before and one that's most likely come from recent changes.