Page 24 of God of War

"No."

"That's a fucking problem, Nicolas. This wouldn't have happened if you'd found the motherfucking rat already," I snap, my voice ice-cold. "Bring me the goddamn list I asked for yesterday. I'll handle the problem myself."

"By gutting your own organization?"

"If that's what it takes."

"There are hundreds of people in this organization." He meets my gaze, his level. "Most do not know the Nazario I know."

"Meaning what?"

"You are not an easy man to work for," he says. "You ask me to find a needle in a stack of potential needles, and I look. But it's still a stack of needles. There is no loyalty because they don't know you. They fear you. Fear isn't enough."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, scowling at him. "Not this shit again."

He shrugs. "I only tell you what you know is true. You need more than fear to lead. I know you. I know what you're capable of. They don't because all you give them is the same as you give the rest of the world. You bend for no one."

I tip my head back, cursing up at the ceiling. Maybe he's right, but I don't need them to love me. I need them to follow fucking orders. Following orders is what keeps them alive. It keeps Rojas off our doorstep. It keeps their families safe. Anything beyond that is a moot point.

"I'm not trying to be the goddamn King of England here, Nicolas. I'm trying to win a fucking war. No one has to be here if they don't want to be," I remind him. "They chose to follow. I expect loyalty."

"Yes, they follow because they believe you are capable of bringing Rojas down." He pauses, hesitating as if he isn't sure he should say what's on his mind.

"Just say it," I snap.

"They know what Rojas is. They've seen what he's capable of. They thought you were a better choice. But if all you offer is more of the same, can you blame them if they begin to wonder if there is a difference between you after all?"

"Enough," I snap, glowering at him. "That's enough, Nicolas."

He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I mean only to say…they doubt you because they don't understand you, Nazario. They fear you. And people who fear do desperate things. Picking out which is desperate enough to go to Sullivan is not easy."

Cristo. Is he right? Have I become so fucking consumed with winning this war with Rojas that I'm slowly morphing into some sick simile of the bastard? I've been fighting it for so fucking long I don't remember a time we weren't at war. And when I'm not at war with him, motherfuckers like Sullivan or Lombardi are in my face, rattling their swords against the front gate.

I told Brynna that I was a protector, that I do what I do to protect my people from Rojas. But did I lose the fucking plot somewhere? All I've ever wanted was to ensure that bastard doesn't take another goddamn thing, that he doesn't gain another inch of ground. What people think never fucking mattered. Keeping my boot on his neck did.

But if the cost is everything, I've failed. And at this point, if I'm poisoning my own people against me…maybe the cost is too high. Maybe I am failing.

"I'll find your rat,príncipe," Nicolas says after a moment. "We'll deal with him the way we deal with all rats. But chopping your nose to spite your face won't solve the problem."

I grit my teeth, nodding. "Fine. But I want him found, Nicolas. Before he does any more damage."

"Understood." Nicolas turns to leave and then seems to think better of it, turning back to me. "How are you going to deal with this situation?"

That's the two-million-dollar question, isn't it? How the fuck am I going to deal with the fact that Sullivan just hijacked my shipment?

I hesitate, searching for a solution that doesn't put Brynna in the middle, one that causes her the least amount of pain possible.

"Perhaps you should move up your plans for the girl," Nicolas suggests. "Take her out now and remind Sullivan that every move he makes against you will only increase his pain."

I'm moving before the last words even leave his lips. My hands close around his throat as I shove him up against the wall, cold rage a familiar fucking friend. I don't see him. I see a red haze. It whispers at me to end his miserable life right here, right now.

"Príncipe," he rasps, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"Suggest killing her again, and it'll be the last thing you do, Nicolas," I snarl, my voice like ice.

His eyes widen, his mouth going slack with shock. "Nazario," he says, and I read the truth in his eyes. He knows she isn't just a pawn.

Fuck.

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