Consumed By temptation Of Chaos

Chapter; twelve

— Alessio Falcone

The smell of gasoline mixed with adrenaline filled my lungs. With one hand in the pocket of my hoodie and the hood pulled over my head, I walked across the grass, cutting through the wave of smoke coming from the cigarette of a group of guys gathered on the left, placing bets on the next race. Cars were lined up, and stacks of cash passed from hand to hand between the night's gamblers.

I had to stop abruptly to avoid crashing into the body of the boy who had just been shoved in front of me by one of our collectors. He couldn't have been more than seventeen and was shaking like a scared dog. It was always like this. They sold our shit to these fucked-up junkie kids and sooner or later they ended up owing us.

I shook my head and let out a low growl as I kept walking toward where Nevio and Massimo were.

Nevio was leaning against the hood of a black Camaro, spinning a key between his fingers like it was a toy. His expression looked relaxed, but I knew him well enough to recognize when he was searching for some kind of chaos to feed on tonight, and God help me, but I was craving a little trouble myself to get this shit out of my system.

Massimo stood beside him, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd.
The sound of an engine revving made the ground vibrate beneath our feet. On the improvised track, two cars were lined up. Nevio pushed himself off the car and walked toward the edge of the road, watching the drivers.

"Fifty grand on the Mustang," I heard him say to Massimo as I approached.
Massimo raised an eyebrow.

"You always bet on the most reckless one."

"Because they're the only ones interesting." He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

They kept arguing quietly while I watched from a distance as Banks and Hank beat the kid senseless. A faint buzzing started inside my head, like I could suddenly feel every drop of blood running through my veins.

Nevio looked at me then. "You look pissed, Alessio."

"Finally," Massimo said, lifting his eyes as if he had only just noticed I was there. "Thought you got lost on the way." He added it with a hint of mockery while pulling his phone from his pocket and typing something, probably tracking the bets.

"Had to step around a small disaster," I replied, glancing over my shoulder to where the boy was still being held by the collectors.

Nevio followed my gaze. Then that familiar manic smile spread across his face, slowly growing wider.

"Ah... I love this part," he said like he was savoring the moment.

"He's seventeen," I said.

My cousin only shrugged.
"Old enough to bet." Nevio laughed.

Massimo slid his phone back into his pocket and tilted his head to look.
"Old enough to die too," he added flatly.

The blue Mustang on the track roared forward and the crowd erupted in shouts.

Nevio started walking toward the boy.

"Nevio!" I said, already knowing exactly what idea had just formed in my cousin's head.

He stopped and turned his head toward me.

"What?"

"No."

Massimo let out a short laugh. "He hasn't even said what he's going to do yet."

"I know him." And I did. I knew exactly that he was about to make that kid's life even more miserable just for the sheer pleasure of savoring someone else's misery.