Page 18 of Malevolent Secrets

When I walk into the club, it is empty, just like it always is in the daytime, which is also when we carry out our business. My men stop what they're doing to greet me and I return their greetings with silence.

I make my way straight to one of the private back rooms, where I know that Vincent is waiting for me.

Vincent Rucci is probably the only person on earth that I would call my friend. We were raised as boys together, him being only a year older than me. He is just as level-headed as I am, thinking miles ahead of everyone, including me.

Vincent was my first choice for a right hand, but he immediately shut me down. He is the only person who would dare say no to me. But I understood all too well why he refused. He much preferred to be away from the city, or out doing field work.

Overseeing our various…projects. He works behind the scenes the best.

I called him in because I needed him. He was the one who found out that we had a traitor among us and he was the one I tasked with taking care of it. He was also who I was supposed to meet at the club yesterday, but he didn't show up.

The only reason I'm not pissed is because I know he must've had a good reason for not showing up.

I opened the heavy door and the first sound that reaches my ears is the sound of bones crunching beneath a fist. I look at the man sprawled on the floor, hanging onto life by a thread and then I look up at Vincent.

There are brass knuckles on his right hand. As I stare, blood drips from the device onto the floor.

“Another spy,” he says without looking up at me.

“I see. Have you gotten any information from him?”

“Tons. He's been a real chatterbox.”

“It doesn’t look like he can talk anymore,” I observe, taking in the condition of the man lying in the floor.

My friend glances up at me, a sideways smile on his face. “Because I am.”

I walk to a booth and settle down.

“Think it can wait ‘til after we've had our meeting?”

The man on the floor groans and tries to get up, but he slips in his own blood and falls back down. Past the swollen eyeballs and the broken nose, and the lips that are split in so many places, I recognize him. It’s Julio. He's been with us for three years now.

I feel a sharp burn of frustration well within me. One of the reasons that my family is so powerful is that we have always built bonds with our men that lasted. This is a tricky business, full of betrayal and lies, but we have always worked as a team.

Having discovered two traitors among us in a month makes me nervous. Are my men growing too comfortable with me? Have they forgotten how to fear me?

“Sure. He's not going anywhere.”

Vincent takes off the brass knuckles and throws them on the ground. The man lets out another groan, and then he wets himself.

Then the unthinkable happens. He raises his head and crawls his way to where I’m seated. Grabbing a hold of my booted feet with his two shaking hands, he looks up at me.

“Please…. B-boss. I’m sorry.” I’m not sure how he manages to speak through his ruined lips.

Vincent looks at me with what can best be described as a sneer.

“He must not know you very well if he’s begging you for mercy.”

I tilt my head to look at him, and then I lean forward.

“Do you know what happens to traitors in this family? Not just to them, but to everyone they’re affiliated with and everyone they hold dear. You have a wife don’t you?”

He moans as true fear strikes through him. My smile is cruel.

“And a daughter, hmm…Isobel? Yes. Isobel. Beautiful. How old is she now, five? Six? I know some ways I can put her to good use.”

The man starts shaking his head, tears streaming down his face to mix with the blood.

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