Chapter 6
SILAS
Ican’t say I’m used to women turning down my invitations, because I’m definitely not. Valen stands opposite me as he stares at me.
“She said she kindly declines,” he tells me.
I hide my smile.
The balls on this woman.
I’m sure there was no kindness in her decline.
No matter. “Did you follow her?”
“I did…” he says, and something passes through his eyes at his answer.
“What is it?”
His hand lifts, and he scratches the back of his head.
“She went to a strip club,” he says, confused.
“Did she take the money?” I ask him.
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” I say, using the tip of the blade to scratch under my chin.
A thought flickers through my mind that maybe she is interested in women, but I saw the flicker in her eyes and I know she finds me attractive.
For the past week, I’ve been in the shadows hunting, trying to find any information about the disappearance of my uncle’s body.
A week later, I still haven’t gotten any closer. Well, not yet.
I look through the camera in our warehouse. On the other side of this door, a man is tied to a chair. But I’ve grown impatient. I promised my sister and men I would get his body back no matter what so we can mourn him respectfully.
Yet every person I torture and confront knows nothing about the incident. So much so that they’ve all died for it, sticking to the same story.
So I’ve circled back to the only lead I have. Leonore. Who, with the money I’ve given her, is going to strip clubs instead of accepting my invitations. It would appear I have to deal with my little raven personally.
She wanted me to stay away, but saying “no” is certainly sure to draw my attention again.
“Keep an eye on her.”
“Do you think she’s in on it? Rumor has it she’s always been unbiased to the crews. Do you think she’s giving someone else special treatment?”
My jaw tightens. “If she is, she’s going to learn a very dangerous lesson.” Though in my gut, I’m certain she’s not behind it. Not even a part of it. I always trust my instinct.
My instinct draws me toward the Nero crew, just like the member I have tied to a chair now. They also own all of the strip joints in town. Like the very same one Leonore walked into last night. Is she working for them? Is she in some kind of debt? Or is it just a coincidence?
The man in the warehouse falls to the side, screaming through the rag strapped around his mouth as he tries to wriggle free. Either way, I have something else to work on right now.
“You’re dismissed,” I tell Valen, who watches me carefully reach for the door.
“Boss, when was the last time you slept?” I look over my shoulder, glaring at him for asking such a ridiculous question. He’s not my caretaker. He might be my friend, but he also knows there’s a line not to be crossed.
That once I’m determined, I’ll smoke out every fucking snake and burn the world to the ground to get my objective. “I’ll sleep when it’s dealt with,” I say cryptically and walk out into the warehouse.
The man’s eyes widen when he sees me stalking out of the room. Maybe he thought he was finally alone. I can tell in the way his face twists, already looking like he’s in pain, that he knows it’s going to be a long night.
Because if I don’t find answers, each slice of my blade will be deeper than the next until I have something tangible. I grab the corner of his chair and yank him upright.
Tears begin rolling down his cheek. Fuck me, the Nero crew are in dire need if their men are already sobbing messes. Then again, it’s nice to be reminded that my reputation precedes me.
I rip out his gag, and he chokes. “I don’t know anything about Pietro Vescari’s death. Please, you have to believe me.”
My gaze narrows. So he does know something.
“Who told you that he’s dead?”
He seems to realize he’s given himself away, and he grows a shade paler.
“The crew is talking about it. You’ve already plucked off three of our men.
Come on,” he pleads. “You’re going to start a war if you keep agitating Apollo like this.
” My gaze narrows. I don’t care about Apollo Nero.
He’s getting old, and his methods are outdated.
He’s practically ostracized himself and rarely gets involved in matters personally anymore.
He’s become weak. But is he behind my uncle’s death and taking the body back?
The moment I consider all of this, the man seizes the opportunity as if my silence were an admission of what he says. “Just let me go. I’m sure your mercy—”
Mercy. I slam the blade into his leg, relishing in the scream that bounces across the room, then I twist it for extra measure.
“Mercy?” I grit out very slowly as I lean into him and yank the blade out. He whimpers and sobs over the sharp edge as I bring the bloodstained blade to his throat. “Who killed Pietro?” I demand.
“I don’t know!” he cries.
I click my tongue. “Wrong answer.” I drag the blade down his shirt, slicing it open. Sometimes the best way to leave a message is to do exactly that.
“For each wrong answer you give me, I’m going to carve a letter into your chest. Do you understand?”
His chest heaves up and down. “Pl-please, I don’t know anything.”
“Let’s start with this. Where was Apollo and his three sons on the sixth of this month?”
“I’m just a ground worker. I don’t have direct access to—” He begins screaming, and it’s music to my ears. Not because he’s giving me the answers that I need. But because I need somewhere for this volatile beast of mine to feel in control of the situation again.
My sister’s sobs echo in my mind every time I carve out a new letter. I will give my family peace and remind all the other crews why they’re not to fuck with the Vescaris.
By the time I’m done with him, my work is simple, but he died on the fourth letter.
Soon.