Killian was out for blood. What better prey than pretty little Lily Ivanov, daughter of the man who'd skinned his Grandfather alive.
Only problem; revenge tasted addictively sweet off her tongue...
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Was it mercy or a cruel conclusion?
The echos of thick and heavy blood dropping to cold cement played a symphony in the brightly lit room. A look of absolute desperation glowed in flecks of amber, what a beautiful sight. The glowing beams above defined strained contours of cheekbones and perturbing veins.
That moment before death came and sunk its claws into a soul, that moment was mesmerising. It was why I could not look away, not when it was far too beautiful... The flush leaving fragile skin, irises expanding and lungs seizing.
A final glimmer of hope in their eyes, a silent prayer on trembling lips.
God would not save you.
This was not his house.
I pressed the cold edge of a metal blade against wood, coated in crimson it left an imprint as I etched and etched, waiting until the final breath escaped and death consumed the man before me. Only then did I analyse my artwork.
T R A D I T O R E
I was never one for theatrics but something about tonight felt cinematic, this was a show. One for all my men, for anyone who thought it wise to cross me. I held very little emotional capacity, it's that sociopathic state that had Italia feeding from the palm of my hand.
Mercy was killing the fucker who hid information on Arsenio Silvetti's murder. Mercy was not drawing it out with painful precision. Mercy was letting him die with his organs intact... well, mostly.
My grandfather's butchered body remained imprinted on the corners of my mind. There was very little room in my world for values and moral dilemmas, but loyalty and respect; sat on a pedestal.
Standing I twirled the small piece of wood before placing it on the metal chair I'd vacated. "Do you think he would've spoken?" I asked my underboss.
Salvatore cocked his head slightly, looking pointedly at the decapitated chunk of tongue on the floor. Then with a raised eyebrow, he replied, "No, Don, don't think he would've utter a single word."
Nodding I continued passed him, "was there anything on his laptop?"
We made our way up the stairs and into the main hall, passing armed men on the route.
Closing the concealed metal door behind us, Salvatore hummed, "working on it, there's communications and a transaction from an anonymous buyer. Someone is willing to pay a lot of money to eradicate your name."
That caused the tip of my jaw to tilt up in amusement, "and just how much am I worth?"
"Twenty-One Million."
Pursing my lips, I sigh, "Only? Seems a little cheap."
Salvatore chuckles.
"I want a name, Sal. Too fucking old to be chasing some ghost across the country." I poured the caramelised liquid into a crystal tumbler, and the rich rum warmed my throat.
