Page 76 of Mafie Kings


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The man who calls himself a Shade chuckles. “I’d advise you to lay low, kid. Whoever sent us after you, they are angry. If they can pay for our services, they have a lot more reach than you could ever hope to achieve.”

The line clicks dead, and I don’t bother calling back just to yell obscenities at him. I’m not the kid he addressed me as, and I won’t stoop so low as to act like one. Instead, I launch my phone across the room, relishing in the destruction as it shatters against the wall.

I’ve never been good at dealing with my emotions. When I take the medicine to help with my outbursts, my hope is to regain my sense of control. In some ways, they help me do that. They numb my mind to the world around me. Which in turn, makes it easier to deal with difficult issues. I keep the medications on hand for when I need them, but I haven’t taken them daily for a few years now. The numbness became like a tight embrace. I wrap it around me so that no matter the situation I remain composed in front of others.

Until I met Evie, that is.

What no one else sees is what happens when I don't take my medication and I’m alone. This is when I give my emotions an outlet, and they tend to crave chaos and destruction. All I see is red as I destroy every paper of my well-laid plan. I tear them all to pieces, then throw them to the ground before sweeping everything off my desk.

With Damien and Lev off with Evie, I’m alone to destroy every object in my room. I flip my desk, and it crashes into the wall, tearing a hole through the drywall. The lamp beside my bed follows, but the anger in me is still at an all-time high. I feel like the monster is coming out and I’m just along for the ride.

I can hardly breathe as I walk into my bathroom. The weight of this shipment being stolen is like lead sitting on my shoulders trying to crush me. My father will be furious. He’ll strip any opportunity to salvage this mess from me, believing I'm incapable of handling it. He won't just demote me, he will pretend I don't exist until I can find a way to fix it all myself.

My fist smashes into the mirror, cracking it from top to bottom, along with what’s left of my sanity. My knuckles are bleeding profusely now, but I don't feel it. I don't feel anything other than this crushing weight of being a failure. I couldn't protect my mother. I can't be enough for my father. I couldn't protect Damien from his father, or give Lev the life he so desperately wants. And I couldn't do this one simple task. I am a failure and nothing is going to change that.

Not only do I now have to tell my father I failed, but I also get to break the news to him that the most notorious assassin group in the world is after us. And I have no idea why.

I lift my head, looking into the shattered mirror and stare at the broken pieces of my reflection. Slowly, I take some deep breaths, reeling the monster back in and burying him deep.

I send a text to the janitorial crew here, outlining the damage and the specific tools they will need to have everything fixed, and that I expect it to be done by the end of classes. The last thing I need is for the guys, or Evie, to see what happened here.

Then, I call my father.

???

Combat class could not have come at a more perfect time. After speaking with my father, I learned our product wasn’t only stolen, but our entire team was killed in the process. I'm practically vibrating with the need to punch someone, anyone, in the face right now. I need to feel them break beneath me—to be the reason the air leaves their lungs.

I'm aware I can’t kill anyone, but I sure as hell can bring them to the brink of death. And today, that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

I walk into the gym to find Lev and Damien at Evie's back, watching some of the less-trained fighters warm up and helping to instruct them. Last week Savage asked a few of the more skilled fighters to help coach the worthless pieces of shit who can’t even block an uppercut. I roll my eyes as I walk past them, bumping into Lev slightly.

“What’s got you looking like you’re ready to take on Hercules himself?” Lev asks me, trying to joke. When he sees my jaw set and my shoulders bunched in barely restrained rage, he stands up straighter. “What happened?” he questions.

Lev and Damien get closer while I take a moment to compose my mind enough to speak. I just had this conversation with my father, and I am not pleased I have to deliver this news to my brothers too.

“The fucking Shades intercepted my shipment. It’s gone,” I say with my voice low. I clench my fists, making my knuckles split back open under the bandages. Right now, I welcome the pain. I need it. I deserve it.

Evie and Damien whip their heads around to me. “Are you sure, man?” Damien asks, knowing this is bad fucking news. “The Shades haven’t messed with the mafia in over a hundred years. What the fuck would have them choosing sides now?” He’s asking the question I've been wondering for the past two hours.

“I don’t fucking know,” I say, shaking my head, trying to contain the monster within me attempting to claw its way back to the surface.

“Who are The Shades?” Evie asks, in a whisper.

Damien and Lev look at each other before they look at me, letting me decide if I’m going to share any more with her. She has no business knowing about our organization, but she should at least be aware of the groups out there who hide in the shadows.

I sigh before answering her. “The Shades are a league of assassins that date back to the 1800s. They formed themselves—right around the same time that the Sicilian mafia was birthed. It is rumored that the creator of The Shades was the adopted brother to Don Calo, the original mafia boss. He was referred to as the 'boss of bosses'. It is said that his brother trained in the art of assassination, and Don Calo became so powerful because his brother killed those who opposed him. When Don Calo was questioned about it, his brother mysteriously disappeared. He resurfaced in Norway twenty years later, creating a web of spies and assassins that could change the course of wars with the right mark. Because of their origin, they specifically avoid mafia involvement. They rarely claim their kills unless it suits them. It’s usually just enough for us to know they are still around. However, this is the first time in history they have ever gone after the mafia…” I say, pausing before I have to tell them the worst part of it all, “and the first time they’ve claimed a mass killing.”

Evie's eyes go wide in shock, with a flicker of fear. She should be afraid. Right now, we all should. If these men are after me, they will find me.

“What do you mean, mass killing?” she asks. And this is the part I didn’t want to have to share. Not with Damien or Lev and especially not with Evie. “They killed my men,” I tell them, hanging my head in defeat.

My chest burns thinking about the calls I’ll be making later today. “Eight of them. Eight people who were acting under my orders died today.”

I raise my head to look Damien in the eye. This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to tell him. “They killed Dimitri.”

Damien's face contorts in pain, and I see his jaw clench so hard his face vibrates. He turns and leaves the room just as the instructor enters. He goes to say something to him, but the look on his face must be warning enough.

“Why would they kill them?” Evie asks under her breath, almost like she’s talking to herself.

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