Page 39 of The Casella King

“N-Nothing. I swear,” he splutters. “We would never be disloyal to you, Mr Casella,” he tries to reassure me.

I nod, my mind churning with a thought.

“I have a way you can prove that sentiment, Lieutenant.” A smirk pulls against my lips. “But it will be at the expense of your badge and your so-called honour.”

“No, please, this is all I have.” He pulls at the chains restraining him in the chair. “I gave up my life to be a cop.”

“And you’re doing a really lousy job at it.” My boot meets the middle of his chest as he falls back onto the deck with a smack. Jackson’s laugh fills the dark night, the sound of water splashing against the yacht.

I drag the chair with him in it across the yacht to the back, where the water drifts onto the flat surface. It’s usually used for diving, but not tonight. I stare at his terrified face as I speak.

“If you don’t tell me what you know, it’ll be death by drowning,” I promise him.

“Please, I beg you, please. I don’t know anything!” he sobs, tears streaming from his eyes.

I grunt as I lower his head off the boat, the bottom of the chair now tipping up, the water grazing his head.

“Last chance, Lieutenant.”

He goes to speak, but I don’t wait as I submerge his head entirely into the water. He’s lucky the boat is idle, otherwise he’d have a harder time with the propellers. I bring the chair back up so all four legs rest on the boat, his body now drenched as he coughs and tries to regain his breath.

“I’m getting bored, Lieutenant.” I pace the deck. “You’re forgetting I don’tneedyou. I have thousands of cops on my payroll who would drop to their knees at my whim.”

There is silence for a moment before either of us speaks.

“He’s planning to overthrow you by undercutting you in all your exports in weaponry and overcompensating the cops on your payroll.” He coughs again. “Some have no loyalty to you, sir, and some just thirst for the money.”

I nod. The knowledge is nothing new to me, there will always be weasels amongst the den. It’s something my father also knew.

“Give me their names,” Jackson demands, and he does, giving him a list of names who plan to betray me. None of the names ring a bell, so they must be new. Either way, it doesn’t matter because they will all die before the sun rises again.

Once the order is given, I’m free to take his life.

“I promise, I let everyone know, I warned them not to accept the bribe,” he stutters.

I nod, walking towards his shivering body still seated in the chair. “You did great.” I smile as he visibly relaxes. The engine of the boat roars as the propellers churn the water. “Now your death will be the perfect example.” The yacht begins to move as my boot meets the middle of his chest once again, sending him whirling into the water, streaks of crimson now turning the water red.

The past few days have been insane, as I’ve been trying to keep up with this lifestyle. The blood, the tears, the power, the show, all of it. Some things don’t faze me as much now, like Ezra being covered in blood almost every night after he comes back from wherever he has gone. I miss my sister. I used to see her every day, and now I barely get to see her or speak to her. Not either of our faults, though. She’s been consumed by motherhood, and I’ve been trying to navigate this whole mafia-queen lifestyle.

Today, I’m glad to have a little time to myself. I’ve spent the majority of my morning in the office Ezra has created for me, going through my emails, and preparing for my upcoming events. Realising I haven’t touched my phone in so long, I walk into our bedroom to find it. I found it odd that I didn’t receive a single text or call from Giselle.

That’s weird, the reception bar is empty, and it’s telling me to insert a SIM card.

What the fuck?

I fiddle with my phone, trying to figure out what in the world is happening, and when I open the SIM card slot to check the sim is in there, disbelief washes over me.

Empty.

Running down the stairs, I open the front door and see Henry standing out front, leaning on the black Beemer.

“Call Ezra right now,” I demand, and without hesitation, he does exactly as I ask, then hands me the phone.

“Henry.” His beautiful deep voice fills my ear, making my blood boil.

“What did you do to my phone, Ezra?” My voice comes out harsh.

“What needed to be done, sweetheart,” he says.

---