Chapter 7

The drive to the warehouse was silent, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Based on the earlier conversation between Adrian and his men, Rhea deduced that Marco had gotten some information about who attacked the Moretti’s shipment on her wedding day and that Adrian was going to go interrogate them.

She wished at this point she could have informed her father and her brother to be in the know, but everything happened so fast that she was unable to leave the estate with her phone.

She watched Adrian from the corner of her eye, and she could see how composed he appeared. He was certainly used to this. The rumors about him were true—nothing fazed him.

After a long drive, their car pulled up to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. The metal doors and windows were rusted and broken.

The moment Adrian stepped out of the SUV, Marco was at his side.

“They’re inside,” Marco muttered. “Tied up and waiting.”

Adrian nodded once, rolling his shoulders. His men were already securing the perimeter, weapons ready.

As they entered the warehouse, one could tell the air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and gasoline. The lights on the ceilings were dim and flickered as if someone was playing with the switch.

Then they came onto the men who were tied to steel chairs and trembling. Their muffled groans and labored breathing filled the silence of the warehouse.

Rhea stood to the side; she could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Adrian had made it clear; the only reason she was here was to see how he handled his enemies. The sight of these men alone was enough for her to say she has learnt the lesson.

She swallowed hard as her eyes flickered to the first man, his lip split open, blood trickling down his chin. Marco had already tortured him before Adrian arrived, yet the man still held his tongue

Anyways, the boss was here. And things were about to change.

Adrian rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, revealing his forearms. He was wearing an expensive watch and bracelet even though the situation did not call for it. That was how unfazed he was. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were calculating and icy.

“You know why we’re here,” he said, his voice smooth but deadly. “And yet, none of you seem eager to talk.”

Silence.

Adrian let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head before he reached for his gun that was tucked into the back of his trousers.

Bang!

The gunshot was loud, and it echoed through the warehouse. Rhea flinched as the first man slumped over, a bullet hole clean through his skull. Blood and skull fragments splattered against the concrete wall.

A few drops splashed on Adrian’s forehead, and he stretched out his hand to one of his men, who handed him a crisp white handkerchief.

He wiped his face calmly and smiled. Rhea swallowed hard. What a man?

She knew Adrian was ruthless, but seeing it firsthand was different. He did not hesitate, not even for a second. The man did not even get the chance to beg.

The remaining captives jerked in their chairs, eyes wide with terror.

Adrian tilted his head, addressing the rest. “Now that we’ve established what happens to dead weight, let’s try this again.” He turned to the second man, crouching beside him. “Who ordered the hit on the Moretti shipment?”

The man, a mid-level street informant, clenched his jaw. “I… I don’t know.”

Adrian exhaled, like he was already bored of this game.

“Marco.”

Marco stepped forward without hesitation; he knew what to do. He gripped four of the man’s right fingers and snapped them backward with brutal force. The crack echoed through the space, followed by a deafening scream.

Rhea clenched her fists, fighting the urge to look away. This was her world now. She had to learn to stomach it. Especially if she planned on winning over Adrian.

“I’ll ask again,” Adrian murmured, pressing the barrel of his gun against the man’s forehead. “Who ordered the hit?”

“I swear, I don’t—”

Bang!

Another body fell lifeless to the floor.

This time, the splashback on him was more than earlier, but he didn’t bother to clean it off.

Adrian turned to the next man. “Anyone else want to be a fucking idiot?”

The third captive was already shaking, tears pooling in his eyes. He swallowed thickly before stammering, “It… it was a contract job. Hired hands. We don’t know the boss, just that it came from someone high up.”

Adrian studied him. “Go on.”

“They—they paid in cash. We were just given a location and told when and where to strike.”

Adrian sighed, standing up. “Names. Give me something useful.”

The man hesitated, but when Adrian raised his gun again, he broke down.

“Luigi Rossi! He arranged it. I swear, I swear on my mother’s grave!”

Adrian exchanged a glance with Marco. Luigi Rossi was a name worth noting. He was a known gun-for-hire, a mercenary that people contracted when they needed things done. He was not affiliated with any of the rival mafia groups.

He nodded to Marco, who pulled out his knife. The man’s eyes went wide.

“No! No, I told you what you wanted!”

“Yes, you did,” Adrian said, his voice devoid of emotion. “However, I never leave things unfinished.”

The blade slid across the man’s throat; he choked as he gurgled on his own blood.

Rhea turned away. This was more than she bargained for.

Adrian turned to the last man standing.

“Your turn.”

The final captive was trembling so violently his steel chair was making sounds. “Please—I—I don’t know anything else! Please don’t kill me, Mr. Vitale—”

Adrian smirked, crouching beside him. “Oh, I am going to kill you.” He let the words sink in. “But if you tell me something useful, I’ll make it quick. Otherwise…” He looked towards Marco’s direction. “I’ll let Marco have his fun.”

The man sobbed. “It wasn’t just a shipment attack. It was meant to send a message.”

Adrian’s eyes opened widely, and for the first time in the warehouse, he had an expression that read as interest and curiosity. “What message?”

The man hesitated, but the moment Adrian’s gun pressed against his forehead, he spat it out.

“They… they said the Morettis would fall. That this was just the beginning.”

A heavy silence settled over the warehouse.

Rhea felt cold shivers down her spine. This was about her family. She has to inform her father, after all he was the one who sent her on this mission.

While still in her thoughts, a ringing phone cut through the tension.

One of Adrian’s men answered, listened for a second, and then turned to him, face pale.

“Boss.” His voice was grave. “We just got word.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes. “What?”

The man hesitated at first.

“Enrico Moretti has been shot dead.”