IMPRESSIVE how people can be blinded by money. You might be enemies today but just by showing them how you can buy their lives in a snap makes Regan want to laugh. He stared at the woman in front of him. She was covered in blood; gunshot in her forehead, there was no life in her eyes and the way her skin started to turn pale from the blood drained from her is something that makes him feel alive.
Pathetic. He thought.
Just by being strong isn't enough to get through this fucked up world. You can be strong outside but inside you could be dying with humility and self-doubt and that would pull you down to your failure. A failure that can kill you if you live inside his world where dying is in his daily schedule.
"Regan," a voice called him. He turned his gaze and saw Cain leaning in the door frame of the basement.
"Yes..." he answered in a monotone, putting his gun at the back of his jeans.
"It's time." Cain answered and left.
Regan pulled himself together before following Cain upstairs where his men were already in the living room waiting for him; a group of Italian mafiosos who will head to the Philippines with him. It is finally time to go back. It's been half a year since he left that country. He never wanted to go back but it wasn't his decision where he would stay. Going back isn't the escape he wants from his fucked up job. It's gonna be a pain in the ass living back to the place he wasn't belonged.
"I know why you wanted to go back in the first place." he muttered to Cain who's putting their luggage in the back of the car. Cain looked at him with confusion but he grinned at him. "Of course I know everything."
"The fuck do you mean?" Cain said.
"It's been what? Like a year since you came here, right?" He answered and lit a cigarette before looking at Cain with a glare. "You can't hide anything from me."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Regan." Cain muttered and closed the trunk. He walked across him and stared blankly. "I would gladly stay in Milan if it wasn't because of East."
Regan stayed silent on their way to the airport. Riding the private plane, they headed to the Philippines where he will spend his years working against the law and defy all the justice with his hand. He never dreamt of becoming an outlaw but he thought maybe it was his calling after all. No one would remember how Regan was like before because he changed and it was for the good.
Becoming someone important was an understatement for Regan. Feeling the rush of having blood in his hands is what made him feel the security of power and seeing those people look at him with fear is compelling; a fascinating kind of drug where no one could understand. The peculiar yet typical feeling of grating flesh slowly was satisfying that it would take a lot of words just for him to describe it.
Regan shut his eyes closed and inhaled deeply. He could feel his body warming up. A release of oxytocin rushing through his veins, down to the nerves of his manhood, tightening against the fabric of his jeans.
"Fuck..." he whispered and exhaled. He grabbed a book from the table beside him just to turn his attention away.
"Shit!" Cain shouted in the middle of nowhere.
Not turning his gaze from the book he's reading he muttered, "Nightmare?"
Cain grabbed the glass of whisky making him turn his gaze to him. He was panting. Visible sweats started forming in his forehead. "Yeah." he answered, leaning his back to his seat. "I dreamt about you killing me," he added.
Regan arched his brow and closed the book. "Again?"
"Yes. I don't know why I kept on dreaming about that day."
"That time I almost killed you?"
"No," Cain shook his head. His cold, frigid eyes stared back at him. "That day I murdered everyone."
"Ah..." Regan answered before nodding.
After a few hours, they arrived at his house. An all black contemporary style house built in the middle of nowhere. There are no light posts around aside from the light that his house has. Tall, thick bushes of grass surround the vicinity and it was as though his house was pulled from a horror movie.
"The only thing missing in this house is a serial killer lurking outside those tall grasses." Cain chuckled while looking around before stopping his gaze at him. "Oh wait, we got a serial killer here; you."
"Fuck you." Regan answered and sat on the low-seated leather sofa and took out a stick of cigarette from his pocket. "If I'm the serial killer in a horror movie, you're the first person I'd shove my knife with."
"By the way, I already wired the twenty thousand dollars to your account here." Cain muttered and sat across him. "You have a meeting tomorrow with the new transfers from Giovanni's batch. They'll accompany us here until East wants them to go back or if you want to get rid of them. As per East's orders, you have all the rights to do whatever you want with those men."
"I see." he nodded and Cain handed him the files of the incoming men.
"Rameses, Ezra, Uriel, and River. Those were their names. Mostly Irish and Italian, all of them were personally hand picked by the boss."
"Cool. I'll see what they can do tomorrow." he answered.
CRIES. Regan closed his eyes and took a long and deep puff from his cigarette as he listened to the cries of agony and pain from the woman in front of him. Blood was dripping from the blade he's holding and it was splattered all over the shirt he's wearing and into his face and neck. The woman was begging for her life. She was pleading for him to spare her.
And it wasn't Regan's forte to listen to this scumbag.
"Please..." she muttered in a weak voice. Regan stared at her void with any emotions. He couldn't understand how a person can beg to live after all the sins they've done. It was unforgivable to others but for Regan this is just a systematic kind of justice where no one is spared and all sinners should die.
"I already gave you a minute to tell me everything but all you did was to say please." he answered and took one step closer to grab the woman by her hair so he could look her directly in the eye. "I don't spare liars."
"I-I swear...I know nothing." she cried.
Regan let her go and sighed. He was trying to analyze how a person who's on the verge of dying could still lie in his face. It was unsightly. A surge of disgust creeps through his nerves and the hate and anger he could feel was irrepressible. It was violent. A fervid detestment against her that he was no longer able to stop his hand from reaching the gun and killing her.
He was breathing heavily; his heart pounding so loud that he could hear it fluttering repeatedly in his chest. Regan took a deep breath to calm himself before walking back to the living room. He found four men standing not far from the staircase turning their gazes to him.
"They arrived twenty minutes ago." Cain announced.
"I see," he answered and took off his blood stained shirt. "I only have one rule in my house," he paused and placed his gun above the coffee table. "Never ever involve yourselves in my family. Whatever happens, keep y'all shit away from them. If I ever heard that one of you fucks up any of my relative, I won't hesitate putting a bullet inside y'all brains. Do you understand?"
"Yes, boss." they all said in unison.
Regan then stood up from his seat and walked towards his men. There was a grin in his lips, his eyes were fierce as a lion, his stance defines authority and power. Everything about him elucidates that he is above everyone and his word is the law. The feeling was overwhelmingly intimidating. These men could feel the heavy pressure that made them shiver through their spine.
This man is terrifying!
"I'm looking forward to working with everyone." he finally broke the silence and Regan grinned as he got a glimpse of fear through their eyes.
