Torn By Honor (Lords of The Commission: New York #3)

Chapter 1

Matt

Revenge couldn’t wait for mourning.

They say it’s a dish best served cold, but I’d never cool down. I’d never stop. I’d never rest until I got to see this vendetta through.

And that only meant one thing — Hiro Naoki needed to die.

My shirt was pristine and white on our drive over. Only stained with the condolences people were throwing at me not even an hour ago. How many of those mafiosi men actually meant it?

Now? That same shirt that had been drenched in Alison’s and Jamie’s tears was a rugged mess between dirt and blood. Lots and lots of blood. None of it was mine, and if it could speak, not a word of it would be English.

I’ll spill as much Yakuza blood as necessary to make sure that motherfucker paid for what he did.

If there’s one thing that is off limits for me in this fucked up criminal world of ours, it’s family. Don’t fuck with mine or you’ll get the side of the devil that even God fears.

So here the fuck I was. Beelzebub on a mission that would permanently grant me a seat in the flames of Hell. I lived in the underworld, after all. That fate kind of came with the job.

The double-severed-pinky pile of shit sitting in the chair in front of me was gurgling on the blood he’d soon drown in. Three wrong answers got his tongue cut off. And that motherfucker bleeds almost as much as a jugular.

James reached towards him to untie the ropes and throw him into the growing pile of bodies we were leaving behind us on this rampage. But I wasn’t done yet.

“Give him a few more minutes.” I wanted to make sure he stopped breathing. That slashed tongue, together with the other open wounds he earned during his one-on-one with me, will soon have him walking toward the light.

Only I didn’t believe sadistic fuckers saw any light when they died. I’m sure there’s nothing for them on the other side. Just limbo. A state of some ultra self-consciousness where they could live over every fuck up in their life that had garnished them such a prize. Give them a reason to repent and no fucking way of making peace.

I’d probably find myself in such a place one day, yet that wasn’t enough to make me grow a conscience.

Right now, all I cared about was finding Hiro and sending him to that exact nothingness with only his memories to haunt him forever.

If I ever find myself there, too, I’ll hunt him down again and kill him a second, third, and fourth time. I’ll take pleasure in it, too. It wouldn’t matter that I’d done it before, it would still taste like the first bite out of a creamy panna cotta.

Heavenly. Ironic, I know.

“Two pinkies means initiation plus a strike. Even if that’s one too many, I can understand forgiving a one-time offender. How would they keep a man that’s missing a handful of fingers? You’re a trustworthy fucker, aren’t you?” Francesca said, strutting into the plastic-lined room with another Yakuza soldier shoved by the tip of her gun.

It was the same small little thing she had strapped to her leg under her wedding dress when we got ambushed all those months ago. And she looked every bit as glorious in that snowy gown as she did right now, wearing leather and a splatter of blood across her face.

My wife.

My badass, mafia queen wife.

“Low fucking standards. That’s how.” Max cooed from the other side of the room, just as ready as I was to sink his teeth into another toy soldier.

“Are you done with that one?” Francesca asked, pointing to the half-dead man taking up the only seat in the room. “Cause I have a feeling this one might just have a sudden inclination to tell us what we need.”

With one kick to the back of his legs, the Yakuza soldier she brought in fell to his knees with a grunt. How fucked up was it that despite the situation, I couldn’t help my cock from twitching at the sight of her.

“Sure seems like loyalty isn’t one of your strong traits. What’s so special about you that makes Hiro keep you?” Max hissed, grabbing the man’s jaw and forcing him to look at him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence before Max aimed his gun toward the Yak sitting on the chair, and without a warning, blew his brains out. His eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He grunted for effect. The fucker he shot was already a dead man, but there’s something about watching a wall being painted in red and brain matter that gives the future carrion the urge to talk.

Still, nonchalantly, the kneeling soldier shook his face out of Max’s hold and spat on the floor, more blood than saliva spluttering across the plastic.

“I’m his brother.”

That answer had me rushing towards him, so fucking ready for an ounce of revenge I could almost taste it.

“Take that fucker out of the chair. We have Yakuza royalty here. Let’s give him the reception he deserves.” I said, not hiding the sick smile from crossing my face.

An eye for a fucking eye.

While Jimmy and James took care of the trash, Max forced Hiro’s brother into the chair, making sure to tie those ropes extra tight.

“I feel something is off balance here.” I tapped my chin, looking at this motherfucker from head to toe. “Oh, I know. Too many fingers on this hand. Let’s get rid of them first, and then we can talk. And if you scream, I’ll make you eat one.”

“NO! NO! I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Okay. That’s good. But fingers first.” I replied, stretching my hand out to my wife and feeling her place the sharp blade of my army knife in my palm. “Now zip it, or you’ll have an early dinner tonight.”

I haven’t felt this need to kill since I was a boy, trying to prove myself. Trying to prove that I was more than just my last name.

Yet, today, I was out for carnage.

Untying his one wrist, I held his hand over the arm of the chair, and this fucker had the nerve to close his hand in a fist.

“Open up,” I asked, almost nicely. “Or I’ll pin your hand to the damn wood.”

No movement. He kept his fingers balled into a fist, and I wasn’t about to pry each finger open. I was too impatient for that, and frankly, it felt beneath me.

As I raised my army knife to stab the back of his hand, he started talking, making me pause mid-action, “He’s the one stealing your shipments. I’ve been supervising each highjack. You’ve been bleeding so many guns that I’ve armed an army big enough to take down the Battaglia reign in a day.”

“You don’t say?”

“Gio was a true asset. It’s a pity you Italian pigs aren’t as forgiving as we are.” He mocked, motioning towards his missing fingers.

“Your tongue is a little too loose for someone about to lose it.”

“Ah! You won’t touch me.” There was a strange confidence in his tone, especially since he was outnumbered and tied to a fucking chair. But the man had balls. I could give him that.

“And why is that? Enlighten me.”

“What I know is too precious to you. Without me, you’ll never catch Hiro. And I have a proposal you can’t refuse.”

He had no idea how murderous I was. How thirsty for Naoki blood I was. Besides, I never make deals with the enemy. That would mean putting myself in a position I despised — held hostage.

Fuck that.

But I’d play along for the time being.

“Okay, let’s hear it then.”

“We split the profit of your gun importing business fifty-fifty, and I help you take out my brother. He’ll be dead within the week.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great deal, considering that I’ll manage to get to Hiro sooner or later with or without you. I’d be giving away half of my business for fuck-all. Try again.” How this fucker could just give up his family for business leverage was enraging.

Here I was, acting out on my anger for losing a piece of mine while this low-life motherfucker was bargaining with his brother’s life.

“I’ll take his place and move our business out of New York. That’s what you want, right? A clean city?”

He was referring to the drugs. How he knew was beyond me. But I bet that, just like me, he’d make it his business to know everything there was to know about the enemy.

“And if we close this deal, you’ll give up Hiro’s location?”

“ Locations .” He corrected, “My dear brother is paranoid. Only the men in charge of his personal protection know where he is. He never stays in the same place for too long. Besides, all those hideouts are packed with cocaine, ready to be distributed. Courtesy of the Bratva. That’s the way in. Volkov brigadiers are constantly dropping off more product, and I have eyes on the inside.”

“The Bratva? Hiro does business with the Bratva?”

“Of course. As long as Vladimir Volkov’s reputation remains pristine and immaculate, all their powder comes directly to us for distribution.”

The Bratva! I knew that after Hiro’s fallout, there had to be someone behind this rebirth of his division. But I never thought the Russians were involved.

Ambassador Volkov must have been desperate to be willing to make a deal with him. And after listening to this piece of shit, it was more than clear why no one slept with the Naoki. Just like Hiro had done to his boss before taking his place, his own fucking brother was betraying him to take over.

“That’s quite a deal. But I’m still failing to see where this benefits me.”

“You’ll kill my brother. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what all this slaughter is for?”

“It is. But what you haven’t understood yet is that I have no need to pawn my business, my integrity, and my safety for a promise of information. I’ll manage to get what I want in the end, no matter how long it takes.”

“I thought that after watching Battaglia blood bleed onto your own streets, you’d be more reasonable. But you still think you’re untouchable. Doesn’t he, Sweetheart ?” He smirked towards Francesca, knowing my blood would boil easily. It was an open threat.

Without warning, I jammed my knife into the back of his hand, just as I was about to when this fucked up conversation started, relishing in the screeches of pain coming out of his mouth.

“I said no screaming, Sweetheart .”

“Don Battaglia,” James suddenly called as he walked into the room with a phone pressed against his ear, an expression of hope plastered on his face that greatly contrasted with the one on mine. This little trip was a fucking waste of time.

“What?” I hissed above this fucker’s pleas.

“It's from the hospital. Liam’s awake.”

With a rush of relief, I pulled my gun from the back of my pants and pointed it straight at the man’s head. “An eye for an eye, you motherfucker. I’d never make a deal with a man so eager to kill his own brother when all I want is for mine to be alive.”

I squeezed that trigger before he could scream again. But what he heard before he died was a lie. I wouldn’t settle for justice. I wasn’t out to level the plains. I was out to make sure this never happened again.

And even though I was relieved that my little brother seemed to be pulling through, a part of me still died that night.

The part of me who made me who I am. My grandfather.