Mafia's African Rose

Alexio

The bastard who had dared to attack my Angel has been caught. Nothing goes unnoticed under my watch. It was so easy finding the idiot, and now, I'm having some fun.

For some sick reason, Viktor wanted to watch the show as well. When he learned about the attack, he was as furious as I was. I know he likes her, but if he as much as makes a move on her, he'll share the same fate as the man with bloodied face, arms tied to the chair.

The look of fear in the man's eyes added to my amusement. Fear—it was the one thing that made the whole kill worth it.

"Now, tell me who sent you," I said, lighting a cigar and taking a long drag, the smoke curling around us.

The man trembled, his words barely coherent. "I—I don't know!" he stammered, his voice cracking. "Please, I swear I don't know!"

I chuckled darkly, blowing a ring of smoke in his face. "Wrong answer."

Walking over to the table of tools beside me, I picked up a pair of pliers, testing their grip. "You see, I don't like liars. And I especially don't like cowards who shoot at innocent women."

The man flinched as I approached, his eyes darting between me and the pliers. "I'm not lying! I swear! It—it was just a job! They didn't tell me who!"

I grabbed his hand, forcing it flat on the arm of the chair, and clamped the pliers onto his pinky finger. He screamed as I twisted, the sound echoing off the walls of the warehouse.

Viktor leaned against a stack of crates, arms crossed, watching with an expression of mild interest. "I'd talk if I were you," he said lazily, his tone cold. "He's only getting started."

"Please!" the man sobbed, his tears mixing with the blood on his face. "I swear! I only dealt with a handler! They never give us names!"

"Then give me the handler," I said, my voice sharp.

"I don't know where he is now!" he cried. "We only meet at random spots—blind drops! I can tell you the last place I saw him!"

I loosened the grip of the pliers, leaning closer. "Now we're getting somewhere. Where?"

"The old shipping docks... Warehouse 17," he choked out. "But I haven't been there in Days! I don't know if he's still there!"

I nodded slowly, standing upright. "That's all I needed to know."

Relief flickered in his eyes, but it was short-lived. "Please," he whispered. "I didn't know it was your woman. If I had known, I swear I wouldn't have taken the job."

I tilted my head, smirking. "But you did."

"I'm sorry," he said desperately, his voice shaking.

I took another drag from my cigar and exhaled the smoke slowly. "Sorry doesn't cut it. You hurt what's mine, and for that, there's no forgiveness."

I turned to Viktor, who was already stepping forward. "He's all yours," I said, handing him the pliers.

Viktor's smirk widened as he grabbed the tool. "You're too kind, brother".

"Got it," Viktor replied, his voice clipped.

For once, the term "brother" wasn't as irritating as it used to be when he said it. Maybe it was because Viktor had proved, time and again, that he was as ruthless as I was when it came to protecting what mattered. Or maybe, I was just learning to tolerate him.

The man screamed as Viktor got to work, but I tuned it out, heading for the exit. "Burn the body when you're done," I called over my shoulder. "And Viktor..."