Chapter 11 Bane
BANE
“Another finger.”
“Damn it, Bane.” Jameson scrubbed a hand over his jaw and rocked back on his leather Hermes loafers.
Of course he wore the syndicate’s money like it was tailored to his soul—hand-stitched charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders, a platinum HEAT watch glinting like it could pay off someone’s mortgage with a flick of his wrist. His hair was artfully careless, dark waves that looked like he’d run a hand through them a time or two.
Jameson Knight was enticing in the way we probably all were.
He was part of the Diamond Syndicate near Chicago, and they acted as though they were reformed.
He looked like the kind of man who’d slide a glass of whiskey into your hand just before pulling the chair out from under you.
Who’d whisper lies in your ear with a voice so low and velvety you’d believe them anyway.
He had the same syndicate pedigree we all did, but my birthright was bloodier.
My father’s Italian roots made sure of it.
Jameson smelled of mercy. It clung to him like a scent he couldn’t wash off.
It made me want to sneer, because where he might let someone crawl away alive, I’d already buried them. No one wronged me and made it out alive.
Except Bianca Zarelli.
That woman had delivered the biggest betrayal of all. I thought she’d been loyal for years and years. I’d went to the ends of the damn earth to visit her month after month in the night.
Then I found out about Rafe and that betrayal tasted like poison. It was one I couldn’t excuse but I’d be damned if I got soft from it. I put her under the same damn roof as me for that very reason.
She would be a reminder to never fall again.
So instead of sparing the bastard at my feet, I signaled Pepe to fetch the woman who’d been bending time and rules every chance she got. And I took my anger out on the man in front of me instead. Was I going a little harder than necessary? Maybe but I didn’t care.
“Shut the fuck up, Jameson. Let me have my fun.” Cade agreed with me.
He’d flown in after hearing that Krawson had fucked around in our territories.
He was a distant cousin but one of the most lethal of them.
And he didn’t care to have his torture cut short.
His mouth stretched into a smile that looked like a wolf’s before picking another tool off the table.
He had volunteered to deliver our message loud and clear to the son of a bitch we’d tied up just down the hall from where I was hosting a dinner party.
“Let’s get on with it then.”
Cade would have taken all night if we gave him the chance. He was probably as fucked-up as me, with a knack for violence, but he didn’t get to exercise releasing his demons as much anymore.
The blade he chose was sharp, but not nearly as precise as a victim would want. That cut was going to hurt like a bitch.
“You’re having fun for the sake of it rather than considering the repercussions,” Jameson reminded him.
He didn’t get that finding cracks and weaknesses in people was too much of a drug to let go of.
I enjoyed the crunch of bone, the splatter of blood, the silence of a room going quiet when a man finally realized he wasn’t going to live through the pain we were inflicting.
I tilted my head and watched Cade sever Krawson Zarelli’s ring finger slowly, sawing back and forth.
The cuts weren’t clean on purpose. Cade was a precise motherfucker when he wanted to be.
“I’m about to be done,” Jameson balked.
“You’re too soft for that Diamond Syndicate of yours over there if you’re wanting him to stop already,” I told Jameson without looking away. Jameson’s territory near Chicago of the Diamond Syndicate had been much cleaner than Bianca’s family’s.
Jameson’s mouth thinned. “ You think I give a fuck about a little blood?” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve brought men back from the dead, Black.” He reminded me. “I’ve put them in the ground also. But the Chicago arm is trying to uphold a moral code and—”
“Well, the West Coast arm doesn’t keep a catechism,” I said. “The Zarellis have disrespected us twice a quarter since my father gave them a little slack. I’m done watching them make a fool of us.”
“I didn’t,” Krawson choked, wriggling against the zip ties biting his wrists and ankles. His face was ashen, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead. He stared at the finger on the tarp like it might crawl back and reattach itself if he wished hard enough.
I crouched, brought my voice down to where I could really take in that fear in his eyes.
“So, you didn’t sleep with Patsy Ranora on the East Coast?
You didn’t angle for a seat at her pakhan’s table, hoping the bratva would let you utilize their ports?
” I let the question sit, unhurried. “You didn’t whisper that you were bringing in your own supply line to start distributing in our territory? ”
His eyes went flat with recognition. And panic. Good. I rolled mine because honestly I didn’t have time for his rehearsed lines and lying.
I knew Bianca was about to walk into a dinner party and be surrounded by people she’d considered her community.
She had been whining consistently about having no communication with them, and so I’d organized the night so we could all be reminded why those ties were dangerous and dispensable.
She’d realize no one was loyal, just like she wasn’t.
Her family was a bunch of spineless, self-absorbed socialites.
The Zarellis were messy. Disorganized. Weak links in the Diamond Syndicate. We’d only tolerated them because Bianca’s grandfather left a foothold we could salvage and my father was sentimental even when he’d been wronged.
That meant a dual approach for now: keep the facade standing for the neighbors and quietly clean out the rot behind the walls.
Bianca marrying my brother accomplished the facade—putting her father in his place while appeasing my father’s old-world loyalty.
I was accomplishing the rest, one finger at a time.
Unfortunately for the Zarellis, each cousin sang a different song and none of them were in harmony with the other.
Every man we put in a chair dug a deeper grave for the whole damn lot.
“Should we take another finger,” I asked conversationally, “or do you want to save the pointer and thumb to circle your dick later? Tell us what we need, Krawson, and you’ll at least get to keep that hobby.”
Jameson’s gaze cut to me. He didn’t argue this time. He knew as well as I did the man was about to snap, and when he did, it would benefit us all.
“What is the schedule?” I asked Krawson. “I want dates, containers, which terminal allows it. And who’s your contact inside customs? And if you say you don’t remember, I’ll have Cade take your whole damn arm before dinner.”
Krawson bit his lip. He glanced at the double doors as if he expected Mr. Zarelli to walk in and save him. That fucker had handed over his nephew quite quickly. Almost as quickly as he’d handed over Bianca to my brother. “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“You’re as good as dead anyway. It’s either going to be running until they catch you or dying here now. I’ll save your skull though and give you a legacy up on that shelf next to the others if that’s what you want.”
He glanced up as did Cade and Jameson. Cade laughed because he knew how honest I was. Jameson sighed like I’d gone too far again.
“Not gonna let him hope for anything?” Jameson asked.
“Nothing to hope for,” Cade corrected him. “Your choice, but I vote for letting me gut you. I’ll be gentle.”
The man stared at Cade for a moment before he started squawking like a bird that knew we’d gotten too close to his nest. “Twice a month, we pay for a container to come in that’s unmarked during the dead of night.”
He went on and on, telling us more and more. I walked over to the knives and scanned them for the biggest one.
I grabbed it and he froze mid-sentence. “This’ll be your last meal, Krawson.”
“What?”
I nodded at Cade, “We’re done here. Security can cauterize his wounds and bandage him up. I’m sure his cousin would like to eat with him before he dies.”
“You can’t kill me. I’m Zarelli’s nephew. I—”
“Why don’t we ask him at dinner, Krawson?” I held up the blade and said, “I’ll take this just in case.”
With that, I waved Cade and Jameson into the private dinner ballroom. It was designed to soften people before we sharpened and cut them into the shape we needed them to be. I walked in with Cade and Jameson, glancing around to see if my brothers had made it too.
Ezra was already seated next to Rafe on one end of the table, a crystal flute of champagne twinkled under the chandelier lighting.
The Zarelli family was on the other end.
Bianca’s mother brushed a hand over the bone china and silver that had been placed before her.
Mr. Zarelli glared at her motion, and she snapped her hand back quickly.
He hated when someone outdid him, and his wife admiring someone else’s dinnerware was a blow to his fragile ego.
Staff filed through to offer appetizers while security stood where an untrained eye would never see them.
Between Rafe and Bianca’s mother were a couple empty seats. I expected Bianca to take one when she finally got there. A game of chess was being played with open seating, giving Bianca a choice at where her loyalties would lie.
Jameson, smarter than the whole fucking lot, sat down right in the middle, an empty chair on either side of him.
And instead of taking the head of the table, I went to sit across from him.
Rafe didn’t glance up, and Ezra chuckled to himself before he lifted his glass toward Jameson and me, “To the games we’re going to play tonight. ”
Angela had been invited, and she chose to sit on one side of me immediately. It was a testament to the sort of friend she was to Bianca.
Not one at all.