Rule 7 : Rage

CHAPTER 50: The Harbinger.

Lord Maximus halted, observing the room, his voice a deep growl. "Padrone Ruggiero, tread carefully. I spill blood—not water."

Ruggiero chuckled, flicking his joint aside, the ember skidding across the floor before dimming out. "Threats?" he mocked, his lips curling as the haze framed his face. "Those are beneath me. I'm merely stating the obvious." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

The faint drip of condensation from the ceiling punctuated the stillness as Ruggiero's sharp gaze bore into Maximus, his cheek twitching every so often as he inhaled from the joint.

"We've got a deal in motion, Massimo. A game changer—Spain, Paris, Greece. But..." His voice dropped. "Greece is a bloody warzone, and we need the Eclipse Legion to strike before it's too late."

Maximus drummed his fingers on his thigh, a rhythm like a ticking bomb, his nails clicking against the wood. Leaning back, a smile ghosted across his lips.

"An operation in Greece?" he murmured, letting a ribbon of smoke curl lazily around him before his attention snapped to Ruggiero. "Care to explain?"

Ruggiero crept forward, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "The Brutalis government is targeting a Greek mafia outfit known as 'Freed.' Rumor has it this group is run by a ruthless bunch of women."

He paused, the scowl deepening on his face. "They've carved up Brutalis's influence, stealing power right out from under them. Now, Brutalis is out for blood. We strike first, or we're next." Ruggiero scoffed. "It's a matter of survival."

Maximus cleared his throat, releasing a low chuckle. "The Brutalis? How... charming."

Ruggiero's smirk widened as he slid the file across the table, its rough leather cover catching the light. "This is the Brutalis's proposal. It outlines the Eclipse Legion's mandate to crush Freed."

Maximus flipped through the pages, his brows knitting together as he scanned the grim details. "Ordnance against Freed," he muttered, the words tasting bitter. "This will be a bloody mess. But then again, chaos has always been my specialty."

"I know you have plenty on your plate," Ruggiero pressed. "But Greece is where we need the Eclipse Legion."

Ruggiero's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Exactly. Greece is where we need you."

Maximus flicked the ash from his cigar, watching it fall before raising his gaze. "And Spain? Any movements?"

A sly grin spread across Ruggiero's lips. "Spain's got something brewing, but it reeks. I'm not touching it. That operation stinks of death."

Maximus's eyes gleamed as he looked across the room, a low rumble of laughter escaping his throat. "Ah, Padrone Ruggiero, I revel in places that mirror my presence."

He paused, drawing in a long puff from his joint, the ember glowing fiercely. His voice slithered through the room, low and smooth. "The scent of impending doom... Death doesn't stink; it's a heady perfume, intoxicating and inevitable. I don't just emit death—I am its harbinger."

Ruggiero's smile faltered, and he shifted in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back. "Massimo, don't play with fire. You know better than to flirt with that kind of chaos."

Maximus clicked his tongue, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Danger is my playground, Padrone. But you? Time's catching up with you. It's something you should ponder." He glanced at his watch.

"Spain's operation," Ruggiero began, "centers around a painting worth billions. The North Graveyard has washed their hands of it; we're steering clear. It's a high-stakes gamble, and such risks often spell disaster." He snapped his fingers, rubbing them slightly against each other.

"How did you get wind of this?" Maximus asked.

"The Irishman," Ruggiero responded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He also mentioned Don Conti. He's angling to secure the contract for himself. You have no stake in this, Massimo."

"Why would the Irishman be so transparent with you about his plans?" Maximus asked, studying him for a heartbeat too long. Ruggiero's smile remained, as if he knew something the rest of the room didn't.

His brow furrowed, a deep line forming between his eyes. "The North could handle this easily. Why pull back now?"

Maximus snorted, the creases on his forehead deepening. "The North's got the muscle for this. Why are you backing away?"

Padrone Ruggiero's voice was clipped, the corners of his nose pursing. "Of course... but I've got my reasons. You're already neck-deep in enough operations, Massimo. This isn't your battleground too."

"Conti," Maximus thought, his icy gaze darting around the room. "I need a solid reason to believe you're not avoiding this operation because of him."

Ruggiero raised an eyebrow, smoke curling from his cigar as he gestured to a guard with a flick of his wrist. "So, does the Irishman want you in the mix as well?"

Maximus's lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "Indeed, he does," he paused, a cold glint in his eye. "And what if I choose to execute the operation?"

Ruggiero's eyes widened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "But you have another operation from the Brutalis... Don't try to be covetous!" he bellowed, his voice rising as he struggled to maintain control.

Maximus chuckled. "I haven't accepted it yet!" His voice reverberated through the room, catching the guards' attention.

Padrone Ruggiero glanced away, his fingers drumming against the table. "Such a tough nut to crack!" he rasped silently through his teeth.

Maximus chuckled, the sound echoing ominously as the sharp clatter of drinks shattered their words. The white and blue liquids sparkled like aged liquor as they were placed before them.

For a brief moment, Ruggiero's brows slumped. "Apologies for the delay," he said, his smile barely concealing his shrewdness. "Let's partake."

Lord Maximus gave a curt nod, his gaze lingering on the joint in his hand. "I'm content with my special joint," he replied, his voice trailing off as he returned to their discussion.

Ruggiero's eyes hardened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Choose your battles wisely, Massimo. Don't tear down your empire chasing after a mirage."

Their iron gazes locked, and as Maximus's ears perked up, the name echoed in his mind: 'Martini.'