2

DAMIAN

I'm hunched over the paperwork on my desk skimming over the letters on each page, drinking each information in and growing angrier by the minute.

My fingers fly across the keyboard with burning urgency and in a few seconds, the screen displays the private profile of my previous target; Josie Davis. It includes information about him down to the last place he used his credit cards.

Picking up a red pen lying on the side, I visualize being the Grim Reaper while I strike Josie's name off my list. When I lift my hand, the paper becomes branded with a brown stain on my palm. The fucker’s blood refused to come off after washing.

I chuckle darkly as the memories of his pleas come to mind. Barely minutes after I began our session, he became a wobbly mess with bladder issues.

A puny weakling with a big dick and loud mouth. Useless.

The room brightens up with light from my phone. I look at it with a big frown which deepens further when I see my brother's name. The reason for his call might not be farfetched.

“What is it?” I ask immediately after I pick up the call.

“I've called a thousand times before now and you have been avoiding my calls, Kristoffor. Seemya dolzhna byt' prioritetom.”

If he has to spell out that family should be the priority, then something is about to go awry. I knead the space between my brows, feeling exhausted.

“What. Is. It?” I bite the words out of my mouth taking great care to not lash out at him. I'm wrapped up in too much shit to be beating around the bush.

I hear the click of his tongue on the line before he answers, “How’s the mission going?”

“It's underway,” I reply curtly, trying to keep my voice neutral.

“Good. Wrap it up quickly and make your way back here. We need you handling business.” He presses.

I'm not sure he hears me grit my teeth in anger but if he can, I don't give any fucks at the moment. “I said I'm working on it.”

He damn near explodes into my ear. “Working on it? Do you think that's enough? I don't think you get the whole point here. We're losing ground, Kristoffor. The other families are sensing weakness. What more? I caught wind of plans to overthrow you and although those negodyai have been taken care of, you need to mount your guard.”

My body trembles with rage, fighting the urge to hit the red button and return to my tasks. I made a promise not to go home until I find all of them and pay them in their fucking coin. I'm not about to break away from that vow.

Somehow, I find the rein on my anger. “I understand. I just need you to keep everything under control as you have been doing. I owe you a favor–”

“No, you don't understand. This isn't about favors. You're too far removed from the business. You need to be here, making calls, breaking heads.”

I sigh, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing once more into my back and I feel trapped.

“I’ve got this under control.”

“Bullshit! You are chasing ghosts, Kristoffor. She’s dead, deal with it. Focus on what matters.”

The way he speaks about her so flippantly causes my blood to boil. The pen in my grip bows and snaps in two. “She's not just anyone and you know that!”

“Enough!” He barks. “She's dead. Move. On.” The last words are uttered so silently with vehemence.

I grit my teeth, biting back my retort. I might be the Don of the clan but he is my older brother.

He continues, “We need you to secure our interests. The Morani family is making moves. It'd be better if we begin with strategic moves of our own before they think we're vulnerable. Stop thinking like a soldier and think like a Vozdh’.”

A leader? I scoff. After I bring my enemies to their knees. “I’ll handle it soon.”

“Soon isn't enough. We need concrete results now and we can't afford mistakes. The Seemya is counting on you.”

Then the line goes dead.

My body vibrates with anger. I fling the ruined pen towards the door same time that it opens to reveal one of my men. His face doesn't bear much to decipher, however, his nervous stance gives him away.

“Spit it out,” I order in a grave tone.

He shuffles on his feet nervously. His eyes flit around the room in search of something.

I become irritated with his nonsense. “Look around one more time and I promise you, you'll be palming one of your eyeballs before you exit this room.” I threaten.

He knows I'm not one to back down on my words and that knowledge probably straightens him.

“Th…The man can't be found.” He announces.

I know the exact person he's talking about. Why not? He has been my main target for months. But jumping to conclusions is not my thing.

A possibility crosses my mind just then. What if he had gotten information about me being close to his tail and escaped?

“You don't work with the Seemya just to go into the field and act stupid. If he has escaped, your job is to look for him even to the ends of the fucking earth and bring him to me. Alive!”

He flinches, all the color draining from his face. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

I cock my head to the side to regard this fool. “Did you mess up again?” Slowly, I rise to my feet still waiting for his words.

He gives a frantic shake of his head, fear evident in his eyes as his gaze measures the distance between us. “No. B-but, when we got there, we discovered that he was dead. Nicolo is dead, boss.”

After that, he takes two cautious steps back which I think is a wise decision to protect himself from my rage bubbling to the surface like molten lava about to erupt.

“Did you confirm?”

He stretches out his phone towards me. Ignoring the tremors of his hand, I take it to behold the mutilated body of the one I've been seeking for the most.

It's a grotesque image. Instead of repulsion, I'm filled with regret and pain. I hurl the phone against the wall, heave and upturn my desk destroying the content on it.

“Fuck!” I yell, angry at myself. “Fuck it! Fuck this! I was supposed to end that psycho myself, he was meant to die by my hands. Shit! Shit!”

This was not the plan. The plan was for him to go through a slow, torturous suffering that he'd wish for death to come swallow him whole.

“I had everything put in place including the machinery to resuscitate him if his heart stopped halfway through our playtime and the fucker had to blow it up by dying early.”

A slew of profanities that I pay no attention to, leave my mouth as I punch the wall over and over until I hear the sickening crack of my knuckles and blood slides down to my wrist.

That single sound gratifies my anger and it simmers down to a slow boil. I'm breathing hard by the time I'm done.

“Boss?” The voice is almost a squeak. My head turns slowly to the side.

The man is standing off to one corner with eyes wide up to the size of saucers. He looks like a terrified prey who just witnessed an apex predator lose its shit.

“There's one more thing you should know. What you desire is still possible.” He passes me his almost destroyed phone.

The screen is flickering and the moment I see what he wants me to, it trips off. My anger dies down totally as I look at him and a look of understanding passes between us.

He gives a frantic nod of his head and thankfully, his legs do not give out on him as he makes his way out of my office.

I look back at the ruin on the floor not feeling one bit remorseful for it. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number.

The person picks up.

“I need you in my office this instant. Ensure the whole place is tidied and my things are replaced before I get back. I have a playdate.”