Thirteen
Elias
Toxicity – System Of A Down
“Thanks, Yvonne,” I mutter, not even looking up from my desk.
Yvonne doesn’t reply; she just closes the door with a soft click behind her. I hate working here at Circle HQ. There’s always someone who wants something, needs my signature, or my general fucking approval. That’s the perks of being the one in charge, I guess.
Yvonne is one of my best employees; she’s been here since the start, and she’s one of the best at what she does. So much so that she taught her husband everything she knows, and he works for me now, too. Who’d have thought that a syndicate like this would become a fucking family business?
I glance up at my screen, and my fingers twitch at the sheer amount of unread emails currently sitting in my inbox.
I slide a hand down my face and click on a random email.
It’s a report from Yvonne on the latest hack, totalling four million dollars.
I let out a groan and light up a cigarette.
I need the fucking nicotine if I’m going to be looking at numbers all day.
I take a long drag, relishing the feeling of looseness in my joints.
It wasn’t always like this, but after I created The Circle and got rid of drugs, we needed something to bring in cash, or we’d lose everything as quickly as we got it.
Bridgeport had been rotting from the inside out long before I got my hands on it.
Turf wars, petty kings playing dress-up, drugs bleeding through every street, every family, in every goddamn corner of the city. That’s why I created The Circle.
One by one, I pulled the gangs in. Some came willingly when they realized what I was offering—structure, protection, money without the constant threat of being wiped out by neighboring crews.
The rest needed a little convincing, and I’m not ashamed to say that a few didn’t make it through the conversations.
And now? Everything runs through me. To anyone on the outside, it looks the same as it always has—just without the drugs and the general decay.
Each crew still operate under their own name, with their own hierarchy and everything that comes along with it.
But things are far from the same. Every deal, every shipment, every job—there’s a line that leads back to The Circle. Back to my crew and me.
Drugs were the first thing I cut, but not because it wasn’t profitable.
But some things aren’t worth the money. Some things are just destruction wrapped in dollar bills.
There are better ways to make money that don’t involve tearing families apart from the inside out.
Hacking wasn’t something I’m good at—that came with Gareth.
It started small, with a favor here and a favor there.
People with too much money and too many secrets who were willing to pay to get their hands on someone else’s.
It didn’t take long at all to realize just how fucking deep that well went.
Now the rich pay us to tear each other apart from behind screens.
Sometimes they want the money, sometimes they just want the damage or the secrets we find.
But either way, the lives of rich people are quietly dismantled without a single shot fired, and that’s the way I want it to stay. Either way, we get paid.
The rest of the crews operating within The Circle handle the work that still requires a physical presence.
Weapons running, private security for people who can’t trust the law to protect them, jobs that need to be…
handled. I don’t like getting involved in that side of the business unless I absolutely have to.
My phone pings in my pocket, breaking me out of my reverie.
I pull it out, and I can’t stop the lazy smile that forms on my face when I see it’s from Kat.
I know I shouldn’t have her number, and taking it from the contracts the band signed is bordering on obsessive stalker territory, but I couldn’t help myself.
I’m more impressed that I haven’t called her yet—I have more restraint than I thought. I open the message straight away.
KAT:
Thanks for last night. I’ll have your jacket dry-cleaned tonight.
ME:
Keep it, it looks better on you.
It’s the truth. The sight of her in my clothes last night sent my brain into some kind of fucking primal haywire. The typing bubble pops up immediately, but disappears again, and something inside my stomach pulls tight, and before I can think, I have another message typed.
ME:
How’s the knee?
It turns to read immediately, and the typing bubble doesn’t disappear this time.
KAT:
Still attached, so I think that’s a win.
I huff a laugh. It wasn’t a serious injury, just a few scrapes and a bit of swelling from what I could see. Although it still took every ounce of restraint I have in me not to peel off her jeans and study the wound and take care of her.
Fucking hell, Elias. Get it together.
ME:
You didn’t text me when you got home.
I definitely drove by her apartment about thirty minutes after she should have arrived, so I knew she was safe. I’ll forgive her for not texting me.
KAT:
I was tired, sorry. Hope I didn’t worry you ;)
I feel like a fucking teenager. What does that wink face mean? I tap out another reply before I can overthink.
ME:
It’s good you’re not technically my employee
if you’re this bad at following simple requests.
KAT:
Ouch, okay, boss man. I’ll be better in the future ;)
That fucking wink again. My cock stirs in my pants. I exhale slowly through my nose, dragging a hand down my face. Jesus Christ, it’s a fucking emoji, get a grip. I light up another cigarette and watch the typing bubble appear and disappear. She’s waiting for me.
ME:
Careful. If you keep that up, I might start thinking you enjoy taking orders.
The typing bubble instantly reappears.
KAT:
Don’t get ahead of yourself. I said I’d be better, not obedient.
ME:
For now.
KAT:
That’s only mildly threatening. What are you up to anyway?
My brow raises. Such an inquisitive little rebel.
The typing bubble appears and disappears again.
It’s strange how those two small animations can convey so much that her words don’t.
She’s waiting for my reply because she’s unsure if she crossed some unspoken line.
Little does she know, I don’t think there is a line when it comes to her.
I snap a quick photo of my keyboard, careful not to accidentally include any information currently on my screen.
ME:
Just losing my soul piece by piece at work. What are you up to?
KAT:
Just on my break at work.
An image pops up, and I nearly drop my fucking phone.
It’s a selfie of her sitting outside with half her face visible.
Her pale hair is pulled up into a high bun, giving me the perfect view of her soft neck.
She has a speck of brown dust on her cheekbone that I’m not sure she realizes is there.
But she looks fucking beautiful. My thumbs hover over the phone screen to tap out a message, but for once, I can’t find the words. I zoom in before I can stop myself.
Her brown eyes have speckles of gold in them that I’d never noticed before. She has deep scars on either side of her lips from what look like previous piercings. There are very faint dimples in her cheeks that give her a sort of angelic appearance.
I’m so fucked.
ME:
Should you be texting me while you’re supposed to be at work?
KAT:
Like I said, I’m on a break. Sorry if that was too much.
My brow raises for a second time in this conversation.
ME:
Never apologize to me, Kat. That photo was a welcome distraction. ;)
Was that the right use of the wink face? I know I’m older than her—seven years to be exact. But right now I feel fifty years older. The typing bubble pops up and disappears four times before the next message comes in.
KAT:
I’d better go back inside. See you at work, Boss ;)
A smile tugs at my lips before I tap out my last message.
ME:
I’ll be waiting, Kat.
She reads the message but doesn’t send anything else. Was that too forward? Did I sound like a stalker? My cigarette burns my fingers as I overthink every aspect of the conversation like a fucking teenager.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I could say something else, push it a little further to see how far she’d let it go, but I don’t. I’m a patient man, and I don’t want to rush when it comes to her. She’ll be back at Headstone soon enough.
A slow breath leaves me as I set the phone face down on my desk, leaning back in my chair, my cock painfully hard in my slacks. This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me, and that just makes me want to push her more.