THE HALF-BURNT CIGARETTE lay in the ashtray. A thick smell of smoke, liquor, and blood lingered in the air. I had cleaned my injured hand and wrapped it in white bandages. Raul was away trying to find a lead on the crown tattoo guy.

I picked up the bottle and made myself a shot of brandy. With my father's death, life had become more stressful. I had tons of reports to read. The drug transport, illegal weapon supply, and a lot of other stuff needed organization.

I sipped my drink. The subtle and sweet flavor of brandy exploded in my mouth.

The door of the office creaked open. My hand went to the Smith & Wesson's. I jerked to my feet, ready to attack.

A tall figure wearing a navy-blue hoodie stepped inside.

He removed the hoodie from his face. A familiar pair of pine-green eyes stared at me.

"Rafe, What a pleasant surprise." I dropped the Smith & Wesson's on the armchair.

"Thought you would be angry with me."

"In this time of crisis, all that matters is your well-being. I'm glad to see you."

"Dad would have said the same," he said, running his hand wildly through his coffee-brown hair.

My eyes drifted on his hand; he had wrapped his hand in layers of dressing.

"What happened to your hand? Did you get in a fight?" I asked.

"I could ask the same about you." He took a deep breath. "Your injury looks worse than mine," he said.

"It's nothing. I interrogated the driver that hit Dad's car. I got hurt in the process of torturing him," I answered, folding my hands into fists. The fucking driver's face flashed in my mind. I wanted to kill him once again.

"W-h-a-t ... what did he tell you?" Rafe stuttered.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I just came from outside, and it's cold."

"Fine. Then, relax! Stay away from these matters. I will take care of everything."

"But, Aaden," he said.

"Shh! No more questions." I silenced him. "Care for a drink?"

"Sure, would love one," he answered, passing me a feeble smile.

I made him a quick drink and handed him the glass. He took and sipped the brandy at a leisurely pace. A thin trail of sweat traveled down the length of his sharp jaw.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Why do you ask?" He sat on the leather armchair and crossed his leg.

"You are sweating. And you are acting weird."

"I have an explanation," he said.

"Rafe, I don't understand what's going on with you. You hardly stay at home. You like to brush responsibilities off your shoulders."

"Aaden, it's not that. I just wanted to ask you something," he said and got up on his feet gracefully like a cat.

"You are planning something, aren't you? Traitor." I walked towards him, glaring at him with a lion's gaze. He looked terrified as his blood had run cold.

"Trust me it's not what you think." He clarified.

"Did you really think you could fool me? I can sense when something is wrong," I said in a cold tone.

He was breathing unevenly as if my words had shocked him.

I passed him a smile. "Just joking. But you acted as if you're really plotting something behind my back."

"I could never."

"Now, tell me what you wanted to ask."

"After father's death a lot has changed and it's time for us to bind our mafia together. I have planned a dinner for us at Illustrious Ridge. That way we both can eat together like a family and discuss things and what do next and make a plan to avenge father's death."

"That's certainly a good idea. I will adjust it in my schedule."

The Illustrious Ridge was one of the meeting hotshots of various crime dealings.

"I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow at eight o'clock."

He was about to leave, but I grabbed his arm. He turned his head.

"Remember, until we stand, together nobody can break our mafia and us apart."

"Right! Nobody can break us apart except ourselves." He smiled and left the room.

Somehow, I was unable to decipher the real meaning behind his words.

My phone vibrated inside my pocket. I took it out hurriedly and glanced at the screen. I picked up the call and said, "What?"

Anger and adrenaline surged in my veins. Frustration gnawed at my mind. I hurriedly got out of the office and shouted, "Albert. Hayden."

"Yes, boss," they said in unison. Albert and Hayden had served my father for the past five years. They were the most ruthless men that I ever knew. Hayden was the head of the mansion's security. Albert was the trained assassin.

"Hayden, get the men prepared. Increase the mansion's security. Make sure that every gun in this house is loaded," I said, taking in a long breath.

"Yes, boss." He nodded and ran, shouting orders to the guards.

"Albert! You are with me. We are going to the warehouse in midtown. Bring extra security," I ordered and glanced at my watch.

Albert ran faster than a deer. He was talking and shouting orders like Hayden. Men wearing bulletproof jackets ran around the mansion like lost travelers. They carried loaded guns, rifles, and carbines.

"Boss, we are ready to go." Albert and I raced towards the car. Five Mercedes filled with armed men and assassins left the mansion with us. I did not want to take any chances with my life.

I wasn't scared to die, but the Marino mafia won't survive without me.

"Drive faster." I clenched my fist in frustration. I wanted to punch a damn face.

"Yes, boss."

My phone vibrated inside my pocket. I took it out and attended the call. "We will be there in fifteen minutes max."

He let out a sigh answered, "They stole drug stock worth twenty-five million dollars."

"Bloody hell!" The blood in my veins burned like fire. Anger thrummed in my veins. A theft in my warehouse was unexpected. The security was tight, and it was hard to sneak in. Everything was going wrong. My head ached; I felt as if somebody was inserting needles in my brain. "What else did you find?" I asked.

"It would be good if we talk face to face."

"Yeah." I disconnected the call and put it back into my pocket.

"What happened?" Albert asked in a serious tone.

"A theft worth twenty-five million dollars of drug stock."

"But, how? The warehouse in midtown is fully secured," he asked. He looked confused and furious at the same time. He looked scary and thirsty for blood.

"We are about to find out." I took in deep breaths to calm the anger. How the hell did this theft happen? That question was eating my mind.

"Boss! We are at the warehouse." Albert stopped the car.

I took out the Smith & Wesson and loaded it. The thieves will pay soon. I got out of the car and walked towards the warehouse. Six men with loaded guns were stationed at the entrance.

The security was tight as always, but it didn't matter. The thieves had outsmarted us. I hated the feeling of defeat. The guards at the entrance bowed their heads. I nodded and stepped inside.

The light were dim. The strong scent of medicine and chemicals filled the air. A strange burnt gunpowder undertone flared my nostrils. Loading and unloading trucks were parked inside. The place was dull grey like the color of cement. Drug trafficking was the most profitable business owned by my mafia.

Raul walked towards me.

"I want every detail." I looked towards him and waited for his reply.

"Gabriel sent me an emergency alert. He sensed something was wrong. I got here as fast as I could, but the whole place was in chaos," he said. "The guards at the entrance were shot in the heart. We removed the dead bodies."

"How many men did we lose in total?" I asked.

"Twenty-eight dead. Eighteen injured."

"How the hell did they get to know about the place?" I punched the metallic rack.

"I'm wondering the same. But we caught one guy. He is tied in the storeroom. He could offer a clue." He ran his hand through his raven-black hair.

"Let's go and get some answers." I walked straight towards the storeroom. I took large steps and paced faster. Raul was following me. He held a gun in his hand.

The door of the storeroom was open. Raul had tied the man to a wooden chair. My men had gagged his mouth. Blood as dark as aged red wine dripped down the wound in his leg. Sweat hugged his pale skin like water droplets on a leaf. His right hand was bandaged.

"Get me a chair and pliers," I said, walking towards our poor little prisoner. He reminded me of a petty sewer rat. I passed him a deadly glare.

"Aaden Marino, it's nice to meet you personally," said the prisoner in a calm voice. "You are so much like your father, aren't you. Guess what; Leonardo fucking Marino is already dead. You will die soon." He laughed like a maniac.

I hit his neck with the back of my gun. "Ahh!"

"Shut your filthy mouth. Speak as much as you want soon I'll rip that tongue out."

Raul positioned the chair and handed me the pliers.

I sat on the chair and looked into the man's eyes. "Who sent you here? And how did you break in?"

"I brought myself here."

"I don't have patience," I said and held the man's finger in the jaws of the pliers.

"You can't cut my finger," he yelled. "You need me for the answers."

I turned my attention towards Raul and instructed, "leave the room and manage the security."

Without uttering a word he left.

I passed the man a venomous smile and squeezed the pliers with force. The cold metal cut through the bone. He tried to get up from the chair, but it was a futile attempt. The iron chains were not easy to break unless you knew the proper way to get out of them.

A snapping sound reached my ear. I released my tight hold on the pliers. The finger hit the cold granite floor. Blood splattered on the floor like scarlet paint on a white canvas.

"Now, tell me. Who sent you here? And how did you break in?"

"Never. Never. Never." He was breathing hard.

I held his pinky finger in the jaw of the pliers. "One down. Nine more to go."

Sweat covered my hand. The handle of the plier was warm in my hand. My prisoner had lost a finger and yet was not breaking. I wasn't tired, neither was he.

"Do you want to lose this one too?" I asked in a cold voice. My voice was sharp like a new blade.

"I will not tell you. I will not tell you." He repeated like a little child.

Blood dripped from the wound in his finger. I could see the remaining bone from the hole.

"As you please," I said and squeezed the plier again. The process was the same: much like the previous one. He shouted, and his scream did not bother me.

"Two down. Eight more to go," I said in the same cold tone. "Or I have another idea." I got up from the chair.

"W-w-h-h-a-t-t-t?" Sweat dripped down the length of his jaw. Beads of sweat covered his salt and pepper beard. He had fixed his eyes on the fingers that lay on the granite floor. His eyes were hollow as if he had anticipated his death.

"I could ask my men to bring me an electric saw. And, we can cut that hand altogether," I whispered in his ear. My voice was like a frozen cold morning breeze.

The man did not respond. I cleared my throat and said, "Raul! Bring..."

"I will tell you. Please, not my hand. Please. I beg you."

"Why do you want your hand? It has only two fingers and one thumb. The palm is bandaged and injured too."

"Bandages are not just for injuries. They can hide secrets too."

"Nice philosophy. But I will cut that hand."

"D'Angelo. Dante D'Angelo sent us here. He gave me the password for the entrance. The snipers killed the guards at the entrance. D'Angelo's men took the loading truck filled with drugs," he said.

"That makes sense. D'Angelo is my biggest rival in the drug business. He hated my father too." I sat on the chair and crossed my legs.

"The question is: how did he get the password? Did his hackers hack our system?" I asked. My interest was growing. Torturing this man was worth the effort.

"He said, 'I have a trustworthy source.'"

"Trustworthy source," I repeated and took out the Smith & Wesson's from the pocket holster.

"You can't kill me," he said in a pleading voice.

"I never promised anything." I pointed the gun on the man's head and pulled the trigger. The bullet left its case and embedded itself in the man's skull. It pierced through his brain. Droplets of crimson splattered on my face like colored liquid from a water gun.

I cleaned my face with the handkerchief and left the man's body to rot.

"What did he tell you?" Raul asked. He was very interested in the subject.

D'Angelo got the password from a trustworthy source. Hackers were not involved. I had changed the passwords of every location after Dad's death. And only three people knew all the passwords. That included: me, Rafe, and Raul.

He was in the suspicion circle, so was Rafe. I trusted both of them, but Rafe was my brother. We shared the blood. He could not betray me.

On the other hand Raul had offered to torture the truck driver and the fucking prisoner. He was finding the lead on the crown tattoo guy. We had not found a single clue.

He was the first person to come to the warehouse after the theft. What if Raul was D'Angelo's trustworthy source? But he did not have any tattoo on his hand.

He is the backstabber. Make him confess the truth. My mind barked.

"What did he tell you?" Raul asked again.

"Nothing. I wasted my time," I said.

"Okay. I will dispose of the body," he said and patted my shoulder.

"That would be good."

"Aaden! We will find your father's killer soon. I will do everything in my power." He assured.

"I know."

Raul walked towards the storeroom. I watched as his body disappeared in the shadows.

Was he the backstabber?

Without any proof it was hard to say.

I took out my phone and dialed Rafe's number. He picked the call in a few rings.

"Ciao! Aaden. Why are you calling me?" He asked in a chirpy voice.

"Nothing. Just send me the address to the Illustrious Ridge," I said.

"Great. You will never forget this night," he said. There was a strange, mysterious tone in his voice.

"What do you mean?" I asked. His words had a double meaning.

"There will be drinks, girls, music, and food. You will enjoy it."

"Alright!"

"Addio. Ci vediamo stasera," I said.

"Sii Puntuale."

I put the phone back in my blazer's pocket.

"Aaden! I found something," Raul yelled and ran in my direction.

"We can talk later." I dismissed him with the flap of my hand.

"I unwrapped the bandage from the prisoner's hand," he said.

"It was injured."

"But."

"Shut up, Raul and get the hell out of here," I said in a rude tone.

"You lied to me earlier. What are you hiding?"

"If what I'm wondering is true, then you are in trouble."

"Don't talk to me that way. You never talk to Raphael that way." He clenched his hands into fists

"Rafe is my brother. I'm your boss, and you serve me."

He laughed. "Yes, boss. I'm just your loyal pet."

I ignored him and left without uttering
a single word.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to vote, comment, and share.