No Matter What

32

CHILDE'S POV (CONTINUED):

My head is pounding. I don't know how much time has passed when my eyes flutter open to the sight of a dark room. I groan in pain, slowly scanning the large space. I'm sat on a cold, damp floor in what looks like a basement. That's when I remember: I saw a man and then was hit in the head and knocked unconscious.

There's liquid trickling in my eye. I try to raise my hand to wipe at it, but I can't—they're shackled to a pole with a lock at the end. Along with various other body parts.

"Fuck..." I mutter, shaking my wrists, though I know it's of no use. I extend my neck to wipe my eye against my shoulder until I can see out of it again. There isn't much down here, just a chair, a desk in the corner, some rope, chains, and an overhead light that's off.

I take deep breaths, trying to figure out what I'm going to do in this situation. I have to think up a plan. This isn't something I haven't been through before—only the last guy that tied me up used rope and not a locked chain. Rope's easier to escape from.

As my eyes continue to trail around the room for an escape, I hear a door unlock. My gaze flicks to the top of the stairs, where light begins pooling in through the basement door, and the figure of a man looms down at me. He closes it behind him, then slowly makes his way down, each step a show—like he wants me to sweat.

"Tartaglia," he sings, followed by a slow, grim chuckle. "My my. The table has turned, has it?"

"What do you want with my family?" I spit. "Why are you harassing us? Why did you kill my comrades?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" The man pulls at the string above and I squint as a dim light illuminates his face. Seeing his face more clearly boils my blood further. Maybe this isn't the time, but all I can think about is that those are the lips that kissed my husband. "Is a murderer really asking why his family is getting targeted?"

"Fuck you," I say, fists tightening behind me. "You sent people to kill off the members of my organization, yet you kept me alive. You kidnapped my son and have been threatening the safety of my family. I want fucking answers. Now!"

The guy frowns, brows furrowing at me. He approaches me, a dissatisfied glance down. I tense a bit, and brace for the impact that follows. The point of his shoe lands hard in the center of my gut, and I groan out in pain, doubling over.

"You just think you're God, don't you?" he says through his teeth. "Not so tough now, though, are you? I think it's about time you learned a hard lesson called The Consequences of Your Actions."

I cough, stomach twisting as I slowly raise my gaze back at him, face red with rage. "The people I kill are the type of people I've already taught that lesson to," I say. "They all got what they deserved."

His foot slams into my side this time. I groan, squeezing my body tight. "Did my brother deserve to die too, Tartaglia?!" the man shouts. "Do you think you deserve to live and my brother deserved to die?!" He kicks me again. "You want to know why I've sent people after your little family? Because you killed my brother! And now it's your turn to feel what it's like to lose someone you love."

I stare at him, face contorted in pain and brows creased in confusion. "If I killed your brother, he deserved it. I've never killed anyone who didn't have it coming."

The man's face grows sinister, and before I can blink, his hand is around my neck, pressing me up against the pole with all his might. I struggle to breathe as his grip tightens further.

"Well congratulations," he shouts, spit landing on my face. "You successfully murdered the son of one of the biggest mob members in the game. You wanna know why you got a target on your back? That's why, you idiot. Because your stupid ass messed with the wrong person. You fucked up, and now you'll pay in blood."

I freeze, body running cold as I try and think back on who I had killed before everything started going to shit. His grip on my neck loosens as he sees I want to talk. I gasp, followed by a series of coughs, before I'm able to speak again.

"But, why not just kill me then?" I pant. "I'm the source of your problem, right? If your brother was murdered by me, it's because he was a sick creep. Why target my family? They're innocent! Why kill all my friends? They're not responsible for your brother's death, I am. They were just doing their job, just like you."

"Your organization is the reason you did it!" he shouts in my face. "Besides, I only killed them off to send you a message. I needed you to know we weren't fucking around anymore."

"Why did you take Lyney?" I ask.

His brow raises. "Who?"

"The blonde boy," I say. "The 16-year-old. Why did you kidnap Arlecchino's son?"

"Oh," he says. "Nothing deep about it. There was a stupid mix up. We heard about someone's son visiting your organization and one of our goons thought he was yours. He didn't know your son and husband were Asian. Apparently he 'lost' the information we sent him and improvised. He was 'fired' after, no worries."

My eyes pierce into him. "And what were you going to do with him when you found out he wasn't the one you wanted? Why was he still there unconscious?"

He shrugs. "Probably kill him. He put up quite a fight apparently and had seen too much."

"You're sick," I say, wanting desperately to reach my hands out and strangle him.

He chuckles. "We're all mad here, are we not?" He stands to his feet, pacing the floor. "You should be happy. I'm sparing your life. I don't want to kill you, not yet. Not until you get to suffer the loss of the ones you love most, the way I did. I knew you'd come here. After I awoke on the toilet at that restaurant not long later and realized my wallet had been stolen by your husband, I knew you'd come find me. Which is why in the meantime, I came up with a plan."

I perk up, eyes widening a bit as they follow his movement across the room. "What do you mean?"

He smiles. "Take you out of the picture for a while," he says, "so my goons can have free access to your family."

My heart drops, and my entire body breaks in a cold sweat. I shake my head frantically, face hot. "No... No don't you hurt my family!! Please! Don't hurt my family... fuck..."

That twisted smile of his grows in pleasure. "Ah, but I've already sent them their way," he says. "They followed you to that hotel from your home. You never even noticed. What a waste of your time and money. I told them to hold off until you got here to make sure you were actually gone and truly hadn't noticed them. Looks like we pulled the wool right over your eyes."

My head continues to shake, eyes fogging over. "I'm begging you, please, leave them alone. Please... You win. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about your brother. I'm sorry, just please, please! Take me. Please just take me. Don't hurt them, they're kids... one of them is only 12..."

"Silly man," he says. "If I take you instead, how will I see you suffer the loss of the ones you love?"

"I'll do anything," I say, letting go of my dignity and allowing the tear I held back to trickle down my cheek. "Anything you want. I'll... I'll stop going after people for good. Just please don't hurt my family..."

"Oh for fucks sake," the man whines, rolling his eyes. "Will you quit your yapping already? Did you not hear a word I just said?" He turns his back on me and makes his way up the steps again, pausing at the top as I watch in desperation, muttering my pleads. "My goons have been at the hotel the entire time, waiting in a car off to the side for you to arrive here before making their move. Whatever claims you're making right now, it's too late. Your family is in their hands now. I've already given them orders. Goodnight, Tartaglia. Next time, think twice before you fuck with my family."
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