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We have our own laws.
Regulations.
And dark and deadly punishments for those who break the laws.
Like when Jac took out my father.
When his father died, one might say it brought a kind of peace as soon after the bitter war ended. On the surface. I might want the prick dead. He might want me dead, but we both want our seats at the Quinate table more.
That and…the other members will destroy us and take the spoils if we step outside of the rules.
If our fathers were alive, we could conduct a protracted and bloody war.
But they aren’t and now we’re at the table.
Stale fucking mate.
“Miller’s got nothing to gain by having me followed.” I meet Damon’s cool gaze. “And I’m not fucking looking weak by upping security. We do business as usual. Same with the gala.”
Damon takes a sip of his drink, then sets it down on top of the gala plans. He pulls his Glock and checks the clip and slides it back into place at his lower back.
I happen to know he’s got another gun in a holster, a knife and a third gun strapped to his left ankle.
His checking that particular gun is him making a point.
“Business as usual, Damon,” I say in a quiet, deadly voice.
“Do you want me to fucking call you sir?”
“I want you to fucking be on alert,” I say to him, “but keep things business as usual. Whatever this is, I don’t think it’s about ending up dead.”
“Yet.”
“I’m Hendrick Agnossio, man. I own my share of this town.”
He looks at me. “So did your father.”
“My father wasn’t as cold as me. Wasn’t as driven.” In the right ways. I take a swallow of my drink and go to the picture window. It’s getting dark. The lights are on and beyond the perimeters of my property, beyond the stretch of park and other places, the city glitters. “I’m smarter, harder to fucking trick. And after the near wipeout of the Quinate, killing me or any of the players, by any of the players, is a no win.”
He knows this.
If I go down at the hand of Jac or a Jac affiliate, his life is done. His holdings are gone. Same if he goes down by my hand, no matter how much I might want that.
If it’s by another Quinate, rules are the same.
And someone outside of us?
That person and every last living person they ever thought kindly of will cease to be. Or they’ll live but their holdings, their organizations, all the operatives they thought they had will end.
For some, the latter is the bigger risk.
Failure and nowhere left to turn is worse than death, worse than the deaths of everyone they might care about.
We are, to most, untouchable.
But there are other ways to destroy that don’t involve death or destitution. There are other ways to hurt, to make someone bleed.
I stay in my lane. I do my work, build my empire.
