4. DANTE #2
The silence that follows is broken only by Nyx's ragged breathing. He stays hunched, trembling, his face still hanging down. I wait for the collapse, for the true breakdown, for the sobs that never came before. I wait for him to finally beg .
Instead, a soft sound slips from his lips.
My eyes snap down. That obscene outline, pressing harder now against the denim. It's impossible . His cheeks are flushed crimson, even from this angle, and a sheen of sweat gleams on his exposed neck. He's panting, almost humming , and then he slowly, so slowly, straightens up.
His eyes, still a startling mix of gray and blue, fix on mine.
A deep, almost reverent awe.
And that thing ... it pulses .
"I'll tell you," he whispers, his voice hoarse, ragged, yet filled with a raw, desperate eagerness that makes my blood run cold. He shifts on his knees, a movement that seems designed to offer himself, to please . "I'll tell you everything."
My triumph shatters.
Luca makes a choking sound beside me, and I feel his bewilderment.
This isn't broken. This isn't normal . This is... an entirely new kind of fucked up . And suddenly, the rage I felt is replaced by something else. A crawling unease . This is a monster I can't understand. And he's looking at me like I'm his salvation .
I force my voice out. "Tell me about the Malakovs. Every single detail."
Nyx doesn't flinch away. He leans into it.
"The Malakovs again?" His voice is strained, but still holds that low, taunting hum.
"I didn't lie to you, mister. I've worked for them once.
It was a one-time gig that paid well. Like anyone else who pays.
But I don't work for them. I work for whoever signs the check. "
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. "You were the only one in all my family's history capable of breaching my systems. The only one who could leak my family's information. And you're telling me you're just a fucking freelancer ? That you don't work for them now?"
"Yes, mister," Nyx says, his eyes fixed on mine, like a faithful dog. "I just... do the job. If you want, I can do a job for you ."
I stare at him. This is... nothing . A ghost. A tool. No loyalty, no master. Just a void I can't punish, can't threaten , that wants what I'm doing to him.
I clench my hands into fists, useless. If he's not working for the Malakovs, then who the fuck is behind this?
The rage builds again. It's a different kind, colder, because this target, this problem , is shapeless.
My gaze drops to Nyx's lap one last time. The denim is pulled taut, the fabric stretched almost to breaking point over that insistent bulge. His face, still flushed crimson, is tipped up, a ghost of a smile playing on his swollen lips. He's panting, silent, but his eyes are screaming. Please .
Fuck this.
"Luca. Let's go." My voice is flat, devoid of any emotion I can fake.
I turn on my heel, stalking towards the door, the chill of the warehouse suddenly not cold enough to cool the burning disgust and confusion in my gut.
If I stay one more second in this room, I will do something I regret.
I know it too well—the uncontrollable rage is too familiar.
I won't allow myself to turn this man into an unrecognizable mass of meat no matter how much he presses.
"Where are you going?" Nyx's voice sounds hoarse and reedy. I don't look back. I can't.
Luca hesitates for a second, then quickly follows, leaving the hacker kneeling there, still bound.
Still hard .
My men are scattered, some at the large table, others leaning against the walls, trying to look busy but all stealing glances at me.
Luca is beside me, his usual stone face a shade lighter with.
.. what? Confusion? Disgust? They'd heard enough through the thin walls, enough of the sounds and the lack of screams, enough of Luca's clipped report.
The details didn't need to be spelled out.
"So," Marco, one of my capos, a bulky man with a permanent scowl, clears his throat. He's always the one to state the obvious. "The kid's... a weird one."
"Understatement of the fucking year," Grigory mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
I slam my hand on the table, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. "He's not the problem right now! The problem is he says he's not working for the Malakovs. Which means someone else is pulling the strings. Someone who knows how to use a ghost."
"Still," Marco says, ignoring my outburst, "the way he took that... you know." He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the direction of the room where we left Nyx. "Most people, they scream. They beg. He was… happy?"
"Happy and hard ," Luca adds, flat. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't have to.
A low chuckle comes from the corner where Ruslan is cleaning his fingernails with a knife. "Man, I hear that's a special kind of crazy. You just left him, boss? Probably got the worst blue balls of his life right now."
"That shit hurts, boss," one of the younger guys, Vinny, pipes up from near the door, nodding in agreement with Ruslan. "Like a toothache in your dick. Used to get 'em bad back in the day, if a girl played too much."
Ruslan adds, "Worse than a punch to the gut, sometimes. You can't think about anything else. Maybe that's how you break him, huh? Leave him to stew in that pain."
My blood runs cold. Blue balls . The thought had completely escaped me in my frustration. And the casual way they talk about it, like it's just another Tuesday.
"That's a form of torture, indeed… boss, leaving him was a good call?—"
"Enough!" I roar, cutting him off. My fist hits the table again, harder this time, rattling the cheap plastic cups. "What the fuck did you want me to do, Ruslan? Suck him off to make him feel better?"
The room goes silent. Ruslan freezes, his knife halfway to his face. Marco's eyes widen, and even Luca subtly flinches. They look terrified. The disgust in my voice, the raw edge of my anger, it's a warning . They should watch their fucking tone around me.
I pace, running a hand through my hair. "I'm not giving him what he wants. Not ever ."
The shame of having that thought, even for a split second, burns.