Page 7 of Madness & Mercy
I stop two feet from his table, clearing my throat.
He perks up, his eyes meeting mine. Brown, sharp, bruised from too many sleepless nights and just enough fire to bedangerous. He’s studying me. Measuring. Not afraid, not quite relaxed either. Like a man who’s lived with violence long enough to know exactly how close he is to it now.
Something flickers in his gaze as I reach up and slowly remove one glove, laying it on the table between us.
His lips part, just slightly, like he’s about to speak.
That’s when I notice it.
A twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Not fear, not smugness, but something else entirely.
Interest.
I lean in closer.
“You’ve been watching me,” I murmur. “Your turn.”
I pull out the chair.
It creaks beneath my weight.
His eyes track my every move.
Then finally, he speaks.
His voice is low, dry, and steady.
“You’relate.”
CHAPTER 2 – THE HITMAN
JULIAN
“You’re late,” I murmur, lifting my coffee to my lips, just to watch the way his brow tightens when I say it.
He leans in, subtle but sharp, irritation bleeding through the cracks in that carefully controlled exterior.
I live for this part: the unraveling.
Nico Vitale likes to pretend he’s all logic and discipline. But it’s a performance. A thin, stretched mask over a man ruled by emotion.
And I’ve seen him when the mask slips.
Beneath the tailored suits and cold glares, he’s chaos in a cage.
A coward with a crown.
A man so addicted to control he’d rather burn the world down than admit he’s lost it.
I’ve been watching him long enough to know the truth: he’s not the monster they make him out to be.
He’s something worse.
He’s unpredictable.
Just like Silvio said.
