004. Let the game begin

RENATO MARINO

I can be as sweet as honey, but I can also be deadly venom. It all depends on which side of me you choose to cross.

Unlike my brother or my nephews, I don't have a strong taste for bloodshed unless it's absolutely necessary to protect what's mine, or to return the favor to those who dare to fuck with me.

My blood rushed, and pinpricks danced along my forearms to my fingers, which gripped my hammer tightly.

My feet remained planted on the floor, and the calmness surrounding me gave me a chance to think about this fucking mess I had to deal with on a fine morning like this.

Only two questions had been running through my head since last night. How could anyone be foolish enough to think of crossing me? And why would anyone voluntarily walk into their own demise?

I simply couldn't understand it.

Agitation and annoyance coursed through me as my eyes fixed intently on the bastard who was hung upside down from the ceiling, blood dripping from various parts of his body.

I watched, mesmerized, as his chest rose and fell in a slow, labored motion. Muffled pants escaped his mouth, which was gagged with a thick chain.

"You ready to talk? I can have my boys force the truth from you, if that's what you want." I said, my voice even and composed.

The throbbing in my arm was nothing new; being shot by scum like this was just another day on the job. But what really got my attention was the fact that a lowlife like this had the balls to cross me, knowing he had no one to watch his back.

What was his motive? Revenge? Or was he just trying to boost his rep among his crew by bragging that he took a shot at Renato Marino and got away with it?

Either way, it was a stupid move, because he would never leave this place alive to brag about putting a bullet in me.

The bastard spewed a torrent of incoherent words, a jumbled mess of words that meant nothing. A filthy mix of spit and blood rolled down his face, mingling with sweat and dripping into his hair, while crimson drops fell onto the floor beneath his head.

"Before I end your miserable life, which will conclude this meeting, tell me the truth so you don't die alone," I snarled, rolling my shoulder as a wave of sting from the bullet wound coursed through my arm.

The bastard remained obstinately silent, his only response to my question was the labored breathing and low, guttural grunts that rumbled through his chest.

A loyal fool, indeed.

"Salvio, lower him," I ordered, my gaze never wavering from my victim as the chain suspending him from the ceiling was released, sending him crashing headfirst onto the floor.

The sound of his skull hitting the ground was eardrum shattering, like the crack of a sledgehammer, and the bastard let out a painful groan as he struggled to crawl towards the door.

But I was relentless, stepping on the chain to pin him in place, ensuring he remained exactly where I wanted him – writhing in agony, at my mercy.

"Remove the chain," I ordered Salvio, not bothering to turn and face him.

Salvio approached the bastard, dropping to one knee beside him. As he reached to remove the chain gag, the bastard suddenly turned his head, making Salvio to slam his fist into the man's face.

"Stay still, idiot!" Salvio barked, wrapping his arm around the bastard's throat and pinning his head in place. With a swift motion, he removed the gag.

"Done, boss," Salvio announced, rising to his feet and stepping aside.

I rose slowly from the iron chair, my eyes fixed intently on the bastard. I took deliberate steps towards him, the hammer clutched tightly in my hand.

His eyes widened in terror as he took in the hammer, and he cowered, trying to move away but I stepped on his leg, stopping his movement.

"So... Are you ready to talk to me, or should we just end this already?" I asked, my voice low and calm.

I was growing increasingly bored with this futile game, and I was eager to put an end to it. I had far more pressing matters to attend to.

"I..." He tried to speak, but winced in agony as he moved his mouth.

A harsh cough racked his body, and he spat a glob of blood onto the floor, mere inches from my foot.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I gazed at the bloody saliva, my favourite shoe mere millimetres from the stain.

"I wasn't..." He attempted to speak again, but I silenced him by pressing down harder on his arm, making him bit back whatever he was trying to say.

I lowered my body, hammer at the ready, and slammed it into his shoulder blade. The crunch of bone and cartilage was sickening, and his harsh cry of pain was almost deafening.

My ears rang from the sound, but I felt no remorse, only a cold, calculated satisfaction from the sight of blood on my hammer.

How much I loved that sight.

I lifted my hammer and brought it down repeatedly, slamming it into his shoulder blade with precision and force.

The bastard writhed beneath me, desperate to escape the agony, and his anguished cries were like music to my ears.

I targeted the same spot with each blow, intent on dislocating his arm from its socket.

"I'll talk, please... fucking please, let me talk!" The bastard thrashed about, begging for mercy, tears streaming down his face.

I smirked, pulling back from him, momentarily satisfied with the terror I'd instilled on him.

"You want to talk? Then start talking," I said, extending my hand towards Salvio. He immediately retrieved a neatly folded napkin from his jacket and placed it on my palm.

I hated dirt; the mere sight of it made my skin crawl. My brother used to tease me, claiming I'd influenced Giovanni, his firstborn son, with my habits, since I was the one who trained him when he was a kid and the boy had adopted some of my quirks.

I carefully wiped the blood from the hammer, then proceeded to clean the bastard's blood from my hand. I glanced at him sidelong, watching as he panted and writhed on the floor.

"I swear, I didn't mean to fuck with you," he pleaded. I smirked, amused by his desperate lie.

"I didn't even know that fucker" he added, groaning. "He came to me with a deal, and..."

"And you took it like a fool?" I interrupted, grinning as I retrieved Salvio's gun from his pocket.

Well, that was the last straw that broke my patience.

“Sir, I swear—”

Bang.

The ringing of the gunshot cut off any other words he was going to say. Hot blood splashed across my face and over my hands. I stared down at my hand painted with crimson drops and felt nothing.

No remorse. No emotions. I felt nothing.

Without turning, I thrust the gun back into Salvio's hand, and he promptly took it from me.

"Have the cleaning team dispose of the body," I instructed, turning to walk towards the door.

As I reached the door, I paused and patted my pocket for my cigarette, but sighed when I remembered that a little twerp had told me to quit smoking and had disposed all my cigarettes.

"Where's Chocolate?" I asked, craning my neck to glance at Salvio over my shoulder.

"She's in her practice room," Salvio replied, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression uncertain. "She said you tasked her with gathering intel on the other guy."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I never assigned her that task, but it's fortunate she took the initiative. I could use that information."

"Yes, boss," Salvio responded.

I shrugged and exited the torture room, intent on finding my... Chocolate.

What exactly was Chocolate to me, anyways? My tech expert, my kid, my confidante, or my therapist? One thing was certain – she was everything to me, except my child.

Calling her that would surely earn me a fatal stab wound.

As I walked down the hallway leading to Chocolate's practice room, I halted when I heard the sound of her wheelchair rolling in my direction.

"I've been looking for you," she said the moment she came into view, her tablet in hand and glasses perched on the end of her nose.

"The guy you brought home, I dug up some information on him," she continued.

"What did you find?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She let out an exasperated grunt. "I did some findings, and as you probably suspected, he's a federal agent. I also looked into his team, and it turns out they were responsible for the raid on the downtown warehouse the other day."

"How fucking cliché," I chuckled, closing the distance between us. "You've done well again, Chocolate. What would I ever do without you?"

"Absolutely nothing," she replied with a chuckle, leaning her face into my palm as I caressed her cheek.

"Go get ready; your physical therapist will be here soon," I instructed before walking away. I caught the muttered phrase "I hate physical therapy" and couldn't help but chuckle.

I took a turn and stopped right by the door where I had kept my fed friend and grinned as I pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

He was already awake and had removed the IV drip that was attached to his wrist, little blood dripping from the back of his hand. Chest wrapped in a clean bandage.

He stood still, his eyes widening in shock as he stared at me, holding his shirt in his hand.

Don't tell me he was trying to run away? He should have thought better before pulling a fucking prank on me.

"Do you feel better?" I asked, forcing out a fake smile that made him take a step backward in fright.

Let the fucking game begin.