30
Damien
My eyes are glued to the five men before me. Concealed behind the folds of the curtains in a secretive room of Morelli Villa, I watch my prey breathe their last breaths.
Gabriel Morelli, the seventy-year-old patriarch of the family, is seated at the head of the table with his four sons surrounding him. Their faces are grim as they discuss the consequences of their failed attempt to kill me and my family.
“They say the present leader of the Volkov clan is a beast,” one of his sons whispers in an anxious tone. He seems to be the youngest among his brothers and looks barely twenty. “They say people die just by staring at him for too long.”
“That’s nonsense,” Morelli Sr. grunts.
“Did any of our men survive?” the son retorts. “There were over a hundred men sent to destroy them. Not a single one returned to tell us what happened. We just have to assume they’re all dead.”
You’re right about that , I think with satisfaction.
“The Volkov clan is legendary,” Gabriel says. “Even my father and grandfather were wary of them and made sure not to entangle themselves in their business.” A heavy sigh leaves him. “I made the mistake of getting too greedy at the promises that Baldwin kid made.” He hangs his head and covers his face.
It’s too late for regrets, old man , I want to tell him. The leader of the Volkov clan is here to avenge the attack on his pack.
“We haven’t heard from them,” says the second son. He seems to be in his thirties. “No calls. No messages. Absolutely fucking nothing! I have never faced a situation like this.”
“That’s their way,” says the old man. “They’re known to cut your throats in your sleep.”
“Shit,” the youngest son curses. “We’ve got to do something. We can’t wait around for them to come slit our fucking throats!”
“Do you want to be our messenger of peace?” says the third son who seems to be the oldest among them. His face is twisted in a sarcastic scowl.
“Are you crazy?” the youngest man blurts. “I’m not going near them.”
“Get the whiskey,” Gabriel says with a tired look on his face. “There’s no use in speculating. It’ll be either us or our wives or our children that die at their hands. We might even lose a good portion of our manpower. We’ll never know how they’ll pay us back in the end.”
“So, that’s your solution, Papa?” the youngest son scoffs. “We just drink to forget our troubles?” He fails to suppress the fear in his voice despite being loud-mouthed.
“It’ll be easier when the big bad wolf comes to snap our necks,” says one of the sons grimly.
My gaze shifts to the small bar in the corner of the room. Every liquor in those crystal decanters is already laced with a special venom.
The eldest son goes to fetch the liquor and comes back to the table with a bottle of bourbon. I wait as they pour themselves generous amounts of the drink.
Leon wanted to be the one to punish the Morelli family but he needs a break. He’s already spending too much time making our traitorous soldiers pay for their treachery.
I have another reason for coming out tonight. It’d become too suffocating to stay confined in the manor lately. Since this mission wouldn’t require me to show my face, I decided to do it my way. Among us brothers, Leon is the best shadow but I’m not too far off the mark.
I watch as Gabriel and his three sons selfishly toast to their own health and prosperity. They sip their drinks eagerly, not detecting a hint of the special poison I’d mixed into the liquor.
It takes about five minutes for the poison’s effect to show on Morelli Sr.’s face.
Gabriel and his sons clutch their throats, coughing hard and rough, struggling to draw breath against their parched throats. It takes them a minute to realize they’re all wheezing and coughing the same way.
Their struggles increase. Their fingers claw at their throats as they fight to breathe.
They try to scream for help but their closed-up windpipes don’t allow a whisper to leave their mouths. One by one, they topple off their chairs and wriggle on the floor like the worms they are.
This is the reason the Morelli family never gained any power in this region. They’re greedy and don’t heed common advice when it comes to dealing with people far more powerful than them.
I walk out of my hiding spot.
Shock blooms on their faces. My sudden appearance must’ve seemed like some sort of demonic apparition. The thick scars lining my face add to their ideas of me being a beast or a demon.
Gabriel’s youngest son fishes for the cross hanging from a gold chain at his neck. He clutches it tight, his eyes widening comically.
I walk closer to him, enjoying his fear. Reaching him, I kneel beside him and smile.
The stench of urine wafts into my nostrils. It’s a moment before I realize he’s pissed himself.
“Fucking moron,” I mutter in disgust and move away from him.
The four men thrash on the floor, desperate for a gulp of air. Dread soon settles in their eyes as they realize death is hovering close by.
Ten minutes later, all four members of the Morelli family lie dead at my feet.
I look around the room, taking note of the upturned chairs and untidy carpet. What a mess , I think with a frown.
Grabbing a pair of plastic gloves from inside my jacket, I get to work.
Over the next hour, I straighten the chairs and take my time to clean up the drool and foam from my victims’ mouths and fix their clothes.
I stage my kill by placing the four dead Morelli men around the table. Gabriel is back at the head of the table with his sons surrounding him. They’re all made to lean against the backrest of their chairs, giving the illusion they’re still sitting upright and having a conversation.
The mess they made is all cleaned up. Every object is back in its place. The poison-laced liquors are drained out from their respective decanters and replaced with their original contents. I even clean out the glass tumblers and poured regular bourbon in them, setting them before each member.
The police will be scratching their heads for a long time trying to figure out the way the Morellis died. They wouldn’t find any trace of the poison in the drinks or anywhere in the house.
The poison I used on them is a special concoction. It’s a Volkov specialty and usually goes undetected during forensic inspections. The cops will only know how the Morelli men died, not the cause.
Perfect , I decide, staring at the scene before me.
The news channels will be all over this murder over the next couple of days. Speculations on why and how the Morelli men died would be the top subject of gossip and discussion.
It’s the perfect way to send my message to all the influential men who know of our existence. Everyone from the most powerful mob bosses to the politicians who control our city will know the consequence of getting involved in a conspiracy against the Volkov clan.
Callum Baldwin is going to have a very difficult time convincing anyone to lend him their men and power. My brothers and I are going to make sure he knows how powerless he’s against us.
Killing him is easy but we want him to go through the same hell as us. We’ll shatter his arrogance and pride before grounding his bones to dust.
I wonder how Lucia truly feels about everything. At the end of the day, Callum is still her brother. Even if she hates him, would she be okay with us killing him?
Killing was the way of a Volkov's life. This is something that Lucia must accept if she wants to become a part of our pack.
Mikhail is convinced she’ll be able to accept us but I still have my doubts.
Lucia’s pretty face rises before my eyes. My dick throbs, wanting to taste the tightness of her perfect pussy. It’s almost a thirst I can’t wait to quench.
The need to see her suddenly overwhelms me. With one last look at the dead Morelli men, I melt among the shadows and make my exit from their pretentious villa.