MATTEO
The cold steel of my customized Beretta felt like an extension of my own skin. I twirled the weapon around my trigger finger…a rhythmic, metallic click-clack that was the only sound in the room besides the wet, ragged breathing of the five dead men tied to chairs in the centre of the basement. These weren't street thugs; these were "high-class" associates…men who wore three-piece suits to mask the fact that they were spineless fucking snakes.
The air was heavy, suffocating under the weight of the violence about to be unleashed. Ricci soldiers lined the shadows of the damp concrete walls, watching the show.
"Please... Sir Matteo, forgive us," one of them blubbered, blood and snot leaking onto his silk tie. "It's a misunderstanding. We swear…"
A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as Alessandro's fist connected with the man's jaw. The chair nearly tipped over as the man's head snapped back, teeth spraying across the floor like discarded dice. Alessandro let out a primal roar, his knuckles already painted red.
"Do you fucks really think we're slow?" Alessandro screamed, looming over them like a demon. "What the fuck do you take us for? A charity case?"
I watched him with a mask of pure boredom. I'd told the Don I could handle this alone. Just because our father ordered us to be here together didn't mean I needed a rabid dog like Alessandro barking in my ear. The prick couldn't control his temper for five minutes if his life depended on it.
I stepped forward, the heels of my boots clicking sharply against the concrete. The soldiers in the back straightened up. They knew I didn't need to scream to be terrifying.
"Alessandro, shut the fuck up," I said, my voice low and lethal. "Your barking is giving me a migraine."
I walked up to the middle man…the 'leader' of this pathetic little coup. I pressed the warm barrel of my gun against the soft skin under his chin, forcing his head up. His eyes were wide, darting, looking for a mercy that didn't exist in this zip code.
"You stood in my father's study, drank his scotch, and shook his hand," I whispered, tilting my head. "You agreed to the Don's terms. And then, the second you hit the street, you started dealing on our turf behind his back."
I leaned in closer, the smell of his fear making my skin crawl. "Did you think we were too busy counting our money to notice you skimming off the top of the Ricci legacy?"
"It wasn't... it wasn't like that," he choked out.
"Then what was it like?" I hissed. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you invited a death sentence into your home and asked it to stay for dinner."
"Looks like the sub-human shits don't want to talk," Marco called out from the shadows. I didn't have to look at him to know he was lounging in a velvet armchair like it was a throne, his finger twitching on the trigger of his rifle.
I lifted a single index finger…a silent command for him to hold his fire. I pressed the muzzle deeper into the man's throat, right against his carotid artery. I felt the jagged, terrified bob of his Adam's apple against the steel.
"I'm going to ask one question," I purred. "No stutters. No fairy tales. You admit you were sourcing from another bloodline. We give you a supply, but the volume you've been moving? That didn't come from us. So tell me, you sniveling fuck... who is your dealer?"
The man's eyes blew wide. Behind me, I heard Alessandro's heavy boots shift.
"Wait, the pussies have a secret supplier?" Alessandro growled, sounding genuinely puzzled. Of course he was surprised. The man was all muscle and zero intuition.
"I… I don't know!" the man stammered. "There's no other dealer, I swear!"
I didn't argue. I just smiled…that cold, empty smile that usually preceded a funeral. Slowly, I pulled my black leather gloves on, the material snapping against my wrists with a lethal finality. They started talking all at once then, a chaotic, high-pitched chorus of denials that turned the basement into a birdcage.
"I won't be asking again," I said, my voice cutting through their noise like a razor. "Who. Is. Your. Dealer?"
The man on the far left started to shake his head, his mouth opening to spit out another lie…
BANG.
The muzzle flash lit up the room for a fraction of a second. The man's head snapped back with the force of a freight train, his brains painting the man next to him in a spray of hot crimson.
The screams that followed were guttural, primal…and then, just as quickly, the room fell into a suffocating silence. I didn't even look at the corpse. I just stared at the smoking barrel of my gun, then turned my gaze back to the remaining four, who were now covered in their friend's gore.
"Now," I said, my voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "Are we going to have a real fucking conversation, or do I need to clear more floor space?"
They didn't just talk then. They screamed over each other to be the first to betray whoever was holding the leash.