Chapter 4 - Blood For Blood
The warehouse smelled of rust, salt water, and fear. Marco was tied to a metal chair in the center of the vast, empty space. The only light came from a single, swaying bulb above his head. He looked up as I walked in, Tony and two other loyal enforcers flanking me. Bruno trotted in right beside me, his presence causing Marco to flinch violently.
"Boss," Marco croaked, his throat dry. "I've been sitting here for hours. I've been thinking. We can fix this. We blame the Volkovs for the girl. We use it to rally the commission. We go to war, but we do it united!"
I pulled up a wooden crate and sat down across from him. I didn't yell. I didn't threaten. I just looked at him with an overwhelming sense of disgust.
"You still don't get it, do you, Marco?" I said softly. "This isn't about business. This isn't about territory or the commission. This is about a little girl who liked purple sneakers."
I leaned forward. "You were my brother. You ate at my table. I trusted you with my life. And you traded that trust to the Russians, and then you ran over a child to cover your own cowardice."
"It was survival!" Marco screamed, rattling the chair. "I did what I had to do! You've killed men for less, Vincent! Don't act like a saint now!"
"I've killed men," I agreed. "Men in the life. Men who made the choice to pick up a gun. I have never, in thirty years, touched a child. That is the line, Marco. That is the code."
I stood up and nodded to Tony. Tony walked over, holding a heavy wrench. He didn't hesitate. He swung it hard, shattering Marco's right kneecap. Marco’s agonizing scream echoed through the warehouse.
"That was for the betrayal," I said coldly.
Tony swung again, breaking the left knee. Another scream, followed by violent sobbing.
"That was for Sergei," I continued. "You brought the Russian war to our doorstep without my permission."
I walked over to a metal table and picked up a suppressed 9mm pistol. I checked the chamber, feeling the cold steel in my hand. I walked back to Marco, who was gasping for air, his face pale with shock and pain.
"And this," I aimed the gun squarely at his forehead, "is for Elena."
Marco looked past me, locking eyes with Bruno. The dog was watching him intently, not growling anymore. Just witnessing justice.
"See you in hell, Boss," Marco spat.
"I'll be the one running the place," I replied, and pulled the trigger.
May you like
The suppressed shot made a quiet thwip sound, and Marco slumped forward, lifeless. I handed the gun to Tony. "Clean this up. Dissolve him. He doesn't get a grave."
As I walked out into the chilly night air, Bruno bumped his head against my leg. I reached down and stroked his ears. One problem was solved. But Marco’s words haunted me. He had killed Sergei, a top lieutenant for the Volkov syndicate. The Russians wouldn't care why Sergei died; they would only care that an Italian mobster pulled the trigger. War wasn't just coming. It was already here.
