Guvnor... if he weren't my brother, I would have killed him by now for all the peace and relief it would bring. Putting my phone on vibrate hadn't helped at all. I could still feel it buzzing on the leather seat, which only added to my growing anger. I lifted my head and glanced at the driver, who kept giving me side glances in sync with my rapidly tapping fingers on the window. I was testing my patience, which isn't exactly my strong suit. I'm an impatient person, and the thought of putting a bullet in every skull was running through my head right now. What a monster—I can't even wait for an hour in traffic.

I should've listened to Adam when he told me to take my private jet instead for the meeting.

I let out a groan as I grabbed the phone from the seat beside me and answered Guvnor's seventh call.

"Where the hell are you?!" Guvnor's growl came through the line, making me roll my eyes.

"I'm stuck in traffic, Guvnor. Care to join me in this delightful civic duty?" It was my way of saying I was helplessly stuck and tired of his constant nagging.

"Screw civic duty! Adam, if you're not here in fifteen minutes with that flash drive, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what?"

"I'll throw your leather chair out of the window!" How dare he?

"Don't you dare, Guvnor!" I snapped back.

"Why not? You're not here on time, and if I don't get that drive, this is your punishment!"

My fingers gripped the door handle tightly as he kept talking. I stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. A shout reached my ears, and I turned to see a man on a bike clutching his left leg, pretending I had injured him. He glared at me as if I were to blame, but a quick glance down revealed the distance between my car door and his bike. Maybe I did hit him, but I wasn't about to admit it.

I looked up at the sky, realizing it was a sunny day—not the best time to deal with someone like this. I took a step closer to block the view from others. Casually, I shrugged my blue denim jacket to the side, revealing the fully loaded revolver strapped to my right thigh. The moment he saw it, his lips clamped shut, and his hand dropped from his leg. He turned forward with a nervous look, staring straight ahead and blinking rapidly. A smirk played on my lips.

Oh, what a FUCKING day.

I put the still ongoing call to my ear and heard Guvnor say, "I just heard someone call you a dick and blind." I could hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

I groaned and, with all the power I had left in my legs, said, "I'm going to block you if you call me again, so stop calling. I'm coming." I ended the call, put the phone on silent mode, and slid it into the back pocket of my jeans.

I took large strides, feeling the ache increase since stepping out of the car. Paraplegia. That's what happened to me after a fight at our factory in Nagaria back in 2004, when we were new there. The police got wind of our drug dealings alongside our merchandise business, and it landed us in trouble. We naively thought it would be resolved easily by offering them a substantial bribe, which was a significant amount for us but seemed like a fortune to them.

But as you know, there's always a Simba, someone so sincere and honest that even a small bribe doesn't sit well with them. This guy tried to fight against us and the corruption but ended up getting himself and his family killed. One morning, he planned an attack on our factory and managed to get some of our members arrested. That just got on my nerves and pushed me over the edge.

The next day, I hid in his house. I saw his wife waiting for him, wearing a floral maxi dress and applying almond lotion to her waxed hands and legs while humming a tune. When she turned to open the drawer where she kept her night skincare products, I quickly slid under the bed. All night, I listened to them moaning each other's names and the bed creaking.

I realized he was a jerk to his wife too, ignoring her needs in bed and taking all the pleasure for himself. What's the point of her wearing that sexy dress and waiting for him until midnight? She might as well have used some kerosene oil to make it painful for him when he slid in, causing irritation and forcing him to slow down, which would be both painful and pleasurable for her. Women are brave enough to make their own choices, including adding some pleasure to their lives.

But I didn't disturb him, thinking it would be his last night of pleasure. After that, I was going to drag him out of the room, slash his neck, and cut off his dick before shoving it into his mouth. And that's exactly what I did. I took a picture and sent it to their entire department, with a warning written under the photo: "His family belongs to the Genovese Brothers now," and I placed three black roses on his corpse—one for him, one for his wife's pussy, and one for his sacrificed dick. I left a note written in big letters on both of his cheeks.

"NEXT IS YOU" and "IT CAN BE YOU."

It was satisfying. I knew God was impressed with me when I was attacked by his brother next. That bastard entered my club and slipped Gamma Hydroxybutyrate (GHB), a depressant, into my drink. On my way home, I started to feel dizzy, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on my bed, frustration building as I realized my body wasn't moving.

In my impatience to meet my brother and take my revenge, I fell out of bed and just then I meet him. My brother then told me I had been paralyzed by the drug I drank at the club. He had already decapitated the man while I was out, which brought me some relief—about twenty percent. But for the rest of my life, I was consumed by anger, a touch of panic, and a deep sadness about my future.

Having thoughts of a good life doesn't frustrate me because I don't believe in love and have never wanted a family. Actually, girls irritate me—except when I'm inside them, biting their skin and feeling it between my teeth. I've never understood love; I've only heard it from my prey, begging me not to hurt the love of their life. I just call them their captives.

The hot air slapped my face as I walked along the pavement, feeling the pain in my legs intensify. Gritting my teeth, I stared at the long line of traffic stretching out before me. The pain intensified, causing me to involuntarily hiss. My fingers grew numb, and my thighs began to feel heavy. I could see the villa just a short distance away when suddenly, a force pushed me to the ground, eliciting a groan from my lips. Her hand landed on my face, the slap swift and sharp, making my eyes squeeze shut in pain.

Her hands roamed over my body, as if searching for something she knew all too well. Despite her weight bearing down on me, I hardly felt it, my body already half numb. When her hands reached the lower part of my body, a jolt of pain shot through me. Turning my head, I watched her standing on her feet, her elbow digging into my thigh. I caught a glimpse of a smile on her lips... What? Did she enjoy inflicting that pain, even for just a few seconds?

She quickly got up and ran from there. I watched her head from behind, noticing her short hair and youthful appearance. Her body bounced as she ran, the red hairband keeping her blonde locks in place. She seemed small in her large frame, as if a determined soul inhabited her, dictating her actions with precision.

I pushed myself to sit, frustration evident as I realized I couldn't feel my legs anymore. Bending my body forward, I touched the ground, attempting to move further. When my efforts proved futile, I grabbed a nearby stone and hurled it at my leg. It tore through my jeans, revealing an injury on my knee. Blood flowed thickly, dripping onto the ground below.

As frustration filled me, I glanced around at the people, their laughter as they moved away only fueling my anger.

A voice calling my name grabbed my attention, and I looked behind me to find my driver running towards me. "Sir? Sir? Sir, are you alright?" He extended his hand, but hesitated, knowing my aversion to physical contact. Instead, he backed away and knelt beside me, concern etched on his face. "Sir, not again. Why did you do it?" he whined.

He retrieved a handkerchief from his coat pocket and carefully wrapped it around my leg, staunching the flow of blood. Soon, his sky-blue handkerchief turned black and red, mirroring the colors of my eyes. I could see the question in his gaze. My blood wasn't exactly red; it was a deep black hue. For someone with a heart as dark as night and a penchant for wearing black, perhaps even the water they bathed in would turn black.

"Sir, will you stop doing it? The last time you did it, you didn't even feel the pain when your leg's nervous system was back," he implored, bending down to my level and aligning himself shoulder to shoulder with me. His gesture drew my gaze to the deep scar on his left cheek, its rough lines forming an imperfect circle marred by bruises and a patch of missing skin. It was as if someone had scooped out his flesh with precision, and he had resigned himself to the ordeal without resistance.

I sighed, my hand finding its place on his shoulder before sliding to the back of his head. His arm instinctively wrapped around my waist, securing me as he grasped the belt of my bulletproof jacket from behind. With his support, I reluctantly found my footing, allowing him to guide me back inside the car parked just a short distance away to avoid the traffic.

He helped me into the car, then swiftly made his way to the driver's seat, starting the engine. After fastening his seatbelt, he shot me a sidelong glance. My gaze remained fixed ahead, where I noticed the girl who had collided with me now standing in front of my mansion, eyeing the imposing structure.

Sensing his eyes on me, I let out a groan. He chuckled, remarking, "Sir, you've become so heavy. When I held your biceps on my back, it felt like I was carrying a sack of rice." He gestured with his hand as if to demonstrate, seemingly trying to alleviate his discomfort with humor. It was a jest that didn't quite resonate with me.

"Shut up and drive," I replied, amusement tingeing my warning. He nodded in amusement at my command, his lips forming a small smile as he accelerated the car.

As my hand brushed against the coat, frustration surged through me when I realized my device was missing. Without thinking, I retrieved the revolver, switched off the safety, and placed it on my legs before pulling the trigger. Blood poured from my body, yet I felt nothing. I knew that when my senses returned, the pain would be excruciating, like a bitch sinking her teeth into my leg. Gritting my teeth, my gaze darted to the road where the girl had fled from.

"Fucking bitch," I muttered under my breath, my anger boiling over.