Chapter 27
Leon
Three days later, we make no progress on her whereabouts. I’m crawling out of my skin with frustration, my sanity hanging on by a loose thread, ready to snap at any point.
The casino is dead at this time of the morning, with only a few hardened gamblers inside. Most of my employees aren’t here yet, so my workload is easier, leaving me more time to mull over my feelings.
“Sir, you can’t go inside.” I hear one of my men say just before the door slams open.
Maybe I’ve spoken too soon.
Stipe’s ugly face struts into the room, with a pissed-off expression. His thinning hair is slicked back, a toothpick stuck between his yellow teeth. With a shake of his head, he drops into the seat in front of me.
“Please let yourself in.” I gesture for him to sit. “How can I help you?”
“Great question. You can share what the hell is going on. People are talking, and they’re not sure they like the way this new leadership is going.”
Stipe was one of my uncle’s men. They became a separate faction within the family, trying to push Uncle into a leading position.
The position that Father left to me. I pour myself a drink, lifting it to my lips.
“Should I give you a PowerPoint presentation sharing where I’ve been and what I did the last few weeks? ” My voice is laced with sarcasm.
He lets out a loud sigh. “You know what they mean. We made no headway with the Russians, we have no idea where the fuck Luka is, and they’re just worried if you’re up for the task.”
The rakia burns its way down my throat as I try to keep my cool. My newfound aggressive urges are concerning, but I plan to do this my way. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we made plenty of headway. As far as Luka is concerned, maybe you’re the one who took him?”
His eyes widen as he bares his teeth in a fake smile. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the way you strutted in here asking for him to be punished.”
“H-he killed my best friend. I was emotional.”
“Your best friend was scum. You might follow right behind if you don’t learn some respect.”
“Look, don’t shoot the messenger.” Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Or the fact that it’s been months since I’ve felt like things are where they should be. But I feel my patience slipping with every word out of this idiot’s mouth.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t.” Relief crosses his face as he misunderstands my words. Quietly, I grab a knife attached to the bottom of my desk and get up to stand behind him. His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t speak. “I shouldn’t shoot the messenger. But no one said anything about maiming him.”
My hand wraps around what’s left of his hair, pulling his head backward.
My other hand, the one holding the knife, presses to the skin of his throat.
He lets out a small gasp, knowing that every move he makes could be fatal.
My voice is as cold as ice as I speak. “You can tell your little friends that they’re free to go wherever they want to.
They just need to be fast enough so that I don’t catch them.
Because you know what happens to people who betray me. ”
“I-I,” he stutters. “I’m not leaving the business. We just want things back to the way they were.”
“You don’t think I want the same thing?” I caress his throat with the metal edge of the knife.
It’s not my typical choice of a weapon, but it’s Luka’s favorite.
The appeal is obvious when I feel him shiver underneath the blade.
“But some of you… some of you lost your way. You better get your act straight before I’m done with cleaning other messes.
” I poke the blade into his skin, almost imperceptibly, and he lets out a hiss.
It’s not nearly enough to injure him, but it’s enough for blood to appear, staining the tip of my knife.
He releases a frightened whimper, and I add, “Get the hell out of my office.”
I step away from him, and he’s up and out of the room sooner than I’m able to turn around.
My gaze follows the drop of blood trailing down the blade, and determination builds within me.
If I think about the fact that I can’t find either Luka nor Alex, I will poke my eyes out, so it’s best to focus on something else.
Dom informs me of the advances in our plan for the distillery before dropping me off at home. I walk into my apartment exhausted, Persephone barely acknowledging my arrival. She’s still angry with me.
I slip off my dirty shoes, wash my hands of any traces of blood, and drop into the seat next to her. She turns her head away but allows me to scratch her favorite spot beneath her neck.
I miss her too. I think, but don’t say aloud, because admitting that would be admitting how far control has slipped out from me.