Page 199 of Bitter Poetry
“The Russians, as in their Pakhan? You think you can be in the vicinity of him and not strangle the fuck? Whatever we think we know of Ettore, there is a good chance they played a part in your father’s death.”
“You’ve profiled him—you’ve profiled every player exhaustively over the last year, but particularly Grigory Koslov, because he’s personal to me. Do I think he played a part in my father’s death? Yes. Do I want to kill him for it? Absolutely. But you said yourself something is off about him buddying up with Ettore. And I’m all out of other ideas. We knew the risks, we took the risks, and so did Christian. But we’re not losing him like this… Not if there are options that allow him to live to fight another day. One battle at a time, that’s all we have the bandwidth for. They might go straight to Ettore and tell him we asked for a meeting. They might do a lot of things, but they also might just give us an option that doesn’t see all of us dead.”
He’s right. Getting Christian back is all that matters. I’m willing to crawl to the man instrumental in the killing of myuncle, if that’s what it takes, no hesitation. I just hope that, if I can arrange a meeting, now and at such short notice, Leon doesn’t lose his damn mind and off the fucker. Because he’s right. We’ve lost any edge we had against Ettore, and we definitely can’t take on the Russians as well.
“I’ll get it done.”
CHAPTER 59
CHRISTIAN
They take me to a warehouse on the edge of the Chicago River, tucked behind a rusty chain-link fence. The red bricks are old, with weeds clinging to any cracks.
A former meat factory.
The choice of venue feels appropriate given what’s about to go down.
I’ve also never been here before.
This is not Ettore’s place.
Sunlight shines through the grubby windows, showcasing graffiti, old paint tins, bits of twisted metal, and yet more weeds poking through the cracked concrete floor. A sturdy chain and hook dangle from a pulley system connected to the rafters.
The ambience is pure magic.
I’m manhandled into a formerly glass-fronted office that’s now missing most of the glass. It’s empty except for a table and single metal chair bolted to the floor. Duct tape and a worn leather tool bag rest on the table beside a commercial pack of bottled water—gotta stay hydrated.
They sit me in the chair and use the duct tape to bind me to it.
It’s not the first time Ettore’s men have worked me over. But, you know, it’s been a while, and the memory has dimmed over time.
This is business, even if I’m one of their own, and Peter and Bo are efficient.
Roman has a score to settle, and he’s not.
He’s alright, and I like him, so I understand he’s feeling betrayed—I’m still hoping his wife goes into labor so I can get a fucking break.
Jero stands on the sidelines watching. Not a flicker of emotion in his face. He was right, I fucked up. I should have made Dante put a tracker on Carmela—I mean, I got one, just never got around to mentioning it.
I make sounds I’ve never heard myself make before.
I think about death, about the lead up to it, and the surprising amount of pain a body can take before it passes out.
“Sometimes you don’t get to pick a side, ya know?”Jero once told me.“I’ve covered for you. That makes me complicit. That makes me a man who has picked a side.”
Lying piece of shit.
They stop for a rest break. I’m dripping blood from numerous locations, and I’m throbbing everywhere—my right eye has swollen completely shut. They have a smoke and a chat… break open the pack of water and hand out bottles. Even wearing gloves it can hurt beating on someone for this long. I’m surprised they haven’t gone to their tool bag of implements yet. I guess they’re pacing themselves. Plenty of time to get to the good stuff of pulling nails and teeth and cutting off non-essential body parts.
I’m so fucked.
I’m also really thirsty and watching them swig down the water pisses me off.
Deep down, I know I’m not leaving this warehouse alive, and everything between now and then will only feel incrementally worse.
I’m nineteen; I haven’t reached my peek yet so it’s pretty fucking depressing.
Carmela is going to be upset.
