ANDRONIKOS

As I stood before the imposing structure I had erected in the Peloponnese, a swell of pride coursed through me. Towering above the surrounding mountains, the warehouse was the perfect fortress—an ideal venue for eliminating my enemies without interruptions or the chance of escape.

“Nónos, we’ve located him.” (Boss)

Took them long enough.

Striding in through the cold steel doors and into the dimly lit interior, the air damp and thick with the metallic tang of blood, I noticed my men had been busy in my absence, leaving the bastard dangling like a marionette from heavy chains bolted to the ceiling.

His arms stretched unnaturally high, the metal cuffs biting cruelly into his wrists, leaving raw, angry welts. Sweat clung to his bare skin—a testament to his struggles—mingling with streaks of blood that dripped rhythmically onto the stained concrete floor. Stripped of his dignity and clothes, he was laid bare—body trembling, spirit fractured— his vulnerability stark against the cold, unforgiving ambiance of the building.

The source of his bleeding was unclear—perhaps a recent confrontation or the relentless friction of the chains.

Probably both, I thought darkly as I circled him, letting the click of my polished shoes echo ominously through the cavernous space. My favorite knife, Tuto, glinted in my hand as I spun it with practiced ease.

“I don’t know whether to be proud or annoyed that you started the fun without me,” I remarked to my men, inspecting their handiwork.

A soft chuckle rippled through the room, but the tension remained thick—a suffocating blanket of dread that I relished.

Normally, I wouldn’t bother with situations as petty as theft, but this wasn’t just about money, though the idiot had cost me millions with his botched scheme. It was about principle. No one stole from me and walked away intact.

“Do you know how... irritable I get when someone tries to swindle me?” I asked, voice calm but laced with menace as I scrutinized the anóitos who thought it wise to steal from me. (idiot)

His breathing grew increasingly ragged in response, each strained inhale a painful reminder of his dire situation. Tears filled his eyes, but he remained silent.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, nóthos,” I snapped, closing the distance between us. Without warning, Tuto moved—a clean, merciless cut severing his manhood. (bastard)

His scream echoed through the warehouse, primal and raw. Blood spurted from his dismembered dick, painting the floor and my shoes red. His wild, panicked eyes darted around, in a desperate search for any glimmer of hope or escape. But the oppressive weight of the chains, coupled with the agony of his dismemberment, held him firmly in place—a stark reminder of his captivity.

“P-P-P...” he stammered.

“P-P-P what? I don’t speak gibberish boy. Spit it out or bleed out,” I taunted.

Laughter erupted from my men, a jarring contrast to his sobs. Annoyed by the noise, I gestured for silence and leaned in closer.

“You know, I’m feeling merciful today,” I began, a hint of amusement lacing my voice. “So, I’m going to offer you two options.” I gestured to two of my men, who promptly released the chains binding him, stepping back to give him some space as he crumpled to the floor, a broken shell of a man.

“If you can escape this warehouse in the next”—I glanced at my watch for dramatic effect— “say ten minutes, I’ll spare your life. If not, my men will bring you back to me, and I’ll skin you alive. Sound good?”

His body quivered with fear in response, as I felt my infamous maniacal grin creeping onto my face.

Oh well.

I checked my watch. “Time starts now.”

His feeble attempt to crawl toward the door was almost sad. He made it six paces before collapsing, his blood painting a pitiful trail.

Pathetic.

I signaled to my men, who dragged him back to me like a rag doll. He was too weak to fight, though his whimpers continued.

“You should’ve run when you had the chance,” I said, removing my suit jacket with deliberate slowness. “But I suppose you’re too... dickless for that now.”

Rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt, I turn to my men, thrilled to finally put Tuto to good use. 

“Bring the equipment, boys,” I ordered, my voice tinged with dark excitement. “We’ve got work to do.”

**************************************

The part I dreaded most about my job was the cleanup. It was tedious, but there was something satisfying about scrubbing blood from the concrete after a successful punishment had been delivered.

“Boss, your mother is on the phone,” one of my men said, his voice cutting through my concentration as I scrubbed the blood from my beard. Looks like I’d be sporting a gruesome accessory until I got home.

“Did she say why?” I asked without looking up, now focused on cleaning the crimson evidence from my hands.

“Not really,” he replied, his gaze fixed ahead. “Just that she needed to speak with you urgently.”

Damn it.

“Fine, hand it over.” I grabbed the phone and waved him off.

“When are you going to settle down, Andronikos?” my mother’s familiar voice demanded. Her tone was as sharp as the knife I’d just used. “I want grandchildren, gios, and I’m not getting any younger!”

For as long as I’ve known her, my mother has never been one to beat around the bush. With a severe demeanor, ice-blue eyes I had inherited, and platinum blonde hair, she radiated an intensity that was both relentless and caring. I have always admired her directness. Even now.

“Soon, Mama. Soon,” I lied smoothly, knowing full well she wouldn’t buy it.

“Don’t give me that nonsense!” she snapped. “Next time I see you, I’ll twist that overgrown ear of yours until you listen to reason. You’re not too old for it!”

As she launched into one of her infamous tirades, I muted the call and sighed. My mother had the stamina of a marathon runner when it came to berating me.

By the time she wound down, I had scrubbed the last of the blood from my beard and set up a meeting with the Aslan brothers at Nyx, my nightclub.

Twenty minutes! A new record. She usually ranted for longer.

“Nikos, are you there?”

“Yes, Mama. I heard everything,” I lied again. “I’ll do my best to honor your wishes, but duty calls.”

“Andronikos—”

“Love you, Mama!” I cut her off and ended the call.

With an exasperated sigh, I called for my second-in-command. “Iason, ready the convoy. We leave in five.”

If the meeting didn’t go smoothly, I was going to have more than one person on today’s kill tab.