18. Nerio
18
NERIO
I lean against my desk, Marco's expression darkening as I relay Jazz's intel about the phone call she overheard. It didn't take me much digging to get a tail on Angelo and figure out they had something going down tonight.
"Angelo and Frankie." Marco cracks his knuckles. "Can't say I'm surprised about Angelo. Always thought that rat had wandering loyalties."
"Get Tony and Ray. We'll handle this tonight." I check my watch. "Tell them to meet us at the warehouse on 35th in an hour."
Marco nods and steps out. I pull my phone, sending a quick text to Jazz. I'm not even sure why, but I do, telling her I'll be home as soon as I'm done. The word hits hard, home. But she is that for me.
I press send, not waiting for a reply, and then I grab my coat and head down to my car.
The warehouse looms dark against the Chicago skyline. Tony's already there when I pull up, cigarette dangling from his lips. Ray arrives right after, followed by Marco.
"Boss." Tony crushes his cigarette under his boot. "Marco filled us in."
"Carlos wasn't the only one dipping in, either. Angelo's been skimming from the sports book for months." Ray's voice carries across the empty lot. "Guess we know where that money's been going now."
"They'll be meeting their Mantione contact at midnight." I check my piece, making sure it's loaded. "We split up. Tony, take the south entrance. Ray, cover the loading dock. Marco and I will come in from the front."
"What if they spot us?" Tony asks.
"They won't." I slide my gun into its holster. "But if they do, don't let them leave alive. Clear?"
Nods all around. We move into position, the crunch of gravel under our feet the only sound in the still night. Every shadow could be a threat, every whisper of wind carrying potential danger.
Marco takes up position beside me, both of us pressed against the cold brick wall flanking the main entrance. Through the dirty windows, faint movement catches my eye - someone's already inside.
"Two shadows," Marco whispers. "Moving toward the office area."
I grip my gun tighter, adrenaline sharpening my senses. "Get ready," I murmur into my earpiece to the others. "Show's about to start."
The door creaks open as Marco and I head inside. It's far too easy to make it up to the office area, where I see Angelo and Frankie. The door is still open and they're too busy whispering between themselves to notice us until it's too late.
I surge forward, grabbing Angelo by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His eyes go wide with recognition, fear replacing the shock. Frankie tries to bolt but Marco's already on him, driving a knee into his back.
"Going somewhere?" I tighten my grip on Angelo's neck. "Because I'd love to hear where exactly you think you can run."
"Nerio-" Angelo chokes out. "I can explain-"
My fist connects with his jaw. Blood sprays across the concrete floor. "Explain what? How you've been stealing from me? Or how you decided to sell us out to the Mantiones?"
Behind me, Frankie struggles against Marco's hold. "We didn't- fuck!"
Ray steps from the shadows, silencing him with a boot to the ribs. Tony keeps watch by the door, gun trained on the entrance.
I slam Angelo's head against the wall again. "You know what happens to rats in this family?"
"Please," he sputters. "They offered-"
Another punch cuts him off. This one splits his lip, adding to the blood already coating his chin. "I don't give a fuck what they offered."
"Boss." Marco's voice carries across the room. "Car approaching."
"Get these pieces of shit out of here." I release Angelo, watching him crumple to the ground. "Take them to the other warehouse. Make them comfortable." The last word drips with venom.
Marco and Ray drag our prisoners toward the back exit while Tony covers their retreat. I wipe Angelo's blood off my knuckles with a handkerchief.
"Want me to start without you?" Marco asks.
"Yes." I straighten my jacket. "But I want them conscious when I get there. And Marco?" I meet his eyes. "Make sure they understand exactly how much worse their night is about to get."
I leave ahead of them, going to our warehouse, the one we keep off the books. I have an office on the second floor, and I go there when I arrive. The leather chair creaks as I sink into it, pouring two fingers of whiskey. The amber liquid catches the dim light as I bring up the security feed on my laptop.
It doesn't take long for the others to arrive, and I grin at the screams that start now too long after.
"You comfortable out there?" I call to Marco in the next room.
A muffled scream answers, followed by Marco's casual reply. "Getting there. Taking my time like you asked."
I smirk, taking a slow sip. The burn feels good after the night's tension. The feed from the penthouse loads, multiple camera angles showing different rooms. My eyes lock onto the living room view.
Jazz sits curled in the corner of the sectional, wrapped in that soft gray blanket she loves. Her curls are piled on top of her head, a few escaped strands framing her face. She's not watching TV or reading - just staring out those floor-to-ceiling windows at the city lights, fingers tracing the rim of what looks like tea.
"Missing me, little dove?" I murmur, touching the screen.
Like she heard me, my phone buzzes. A text from her.
Hope everything's okay. Can't sleep.
I type back.
It will be soon. Stay up for me.
Her smile on the camera is small but immediate. She burrows deeper into the blanket, still watching the city. Something in my chest tightens at the sight. Almost like…I like it. I swallow back the emotion that I don't know how to deal with and promise her silently that I'll make it up to her later.
"Boss?" Marco calls. "They're ready when you are."
I drain my glass, eyes still on Jazz. "Coming." I close the laptop, straightening my cuffs. "Let's show these rats what happens when they bite the wrong hand."
I descend the metal stairs, each step echoing through the warehouse. The space reeks of copper and fear, exactly how I like it. Angelo hangs from chains in the center of the room, blood dripping onto the plastic sheeting below. Frankie's slumped in a chair nearby, barely conscious.
"Tell him what you told me," Marco says, cleaning a blade with methodical precision.
Angelo spits blood. "Go to hell."
I slide off my suit jacket, rolling up my sleeves. "That's not very polite." My fist connects with his ribs. Something cracks. "Sounds like you were quite chatty earlier."
"Told us everything about the Mantiones' plan to hit our supply routes next week," Marco confirms. "Specifically the shipment coming in through the docks."
I grab Angelo's jaw, forcing him to look at me. "See, now I know where to move my men. But that's not enough." Another punch, this time to his kidney. He screams. "I want names. Every single person who's been feeding information to Sal."
"I don't-" His words cut off as I drive my knee into his stomach.
"Names," I demand, grabbing a handful of his hair. "Or I start removing pieces."
"Just me and Frankie." Angelo gasps. "And Carlos...from the sports book."
"We knew those already." I stare at him. "Who else?"
"That's all I know, I swear to God-"
The crack of his finger breaking fills the room. "God's not here." I show him the blade. "But I am. And I don't appreciate lies."
"Maria!" He sobs. "Maria from the restaurant. She's been passing messages."
I step back, studying his broken form. The information matches what we already suspected, but confirmation is always nice. Still, examples need to be made.
"You know what the worst part is?" I trace the knife down his chest, drawing a thin line of blood. "It's not the stealing. It's not even the betrayal. It's that you thought you could get away with it."
His screams echo off the warehouse walls as I carve my message into his flesh. By the time I'm done, what's left of him isn't even recognizable. But everyone will know exactly why he died.
I wipe Angelo's blood from my hands, turning my attention to Frankie. He's conscious now, terror clear in his eyes as they dart between Angelo's mutilated corpse and me.
"Your turn." I crack my neck. "Unless you'd like to tell me something Angelo forgot to mention?"
Frankie shakes his head frantically. "No, please, I told Marco everything-"
The crack of his jaw under my fist cuts him off. "That wasn't what I asked."
"There's nothing else!" Blood and spittle spray from his mouth. "I swear!"
"Then you're no use to me." I grab a fresh blade from the table. "Marco, hold him down."
Marco steps forward, pressing Frankie's shoulders into the chair. He doesn't even blink as I start working, methodically peeling back skin, muscle, watching blood pool beneath the chair.
"You know what fascinates me?" I dig the blade deeper. "How quiet people get when they realize it's over. When they accept there's no way out."
Frankie's screams turn to whimpers, then to wet gurgles. I take my time, making each cut count, each slice a message to anyone who thinks about crossing me.
"That's art," Marco comments as I step back, admiring my handiwork.
I clean my blade, studying the two corpses. "Drop them in Mantione territory. Somewhere they'll be found quickly."
"Want them together or separate?" Tony asks from the doorway.
"Separate. More impact that way." I roll down my sleeves. "Make sure they're face up. I want Sal to see exactly what happens to people who think they can play both sides."
"Got it, Boss." Marco starts wrapping the bodies. "Want us to leave a message?"
"The bodies are the message." I check my watch, thinking of Jazz waiting at home. "But slash their tongues. Remind them what happens to rats who talk."
Ray and Tony grab Frankie while Marco handles Angelo. None of them flinch at the gore or the wet sounds of dead weight being dragged across concrete. This is business, nothing more.
"Clean this up when you're done," I order, pulling on my jacket. "And make sure they find Angelo first. He was their captain - he deserves the spotlight."