Page 116 of Cruel Knots

To my surprise, he flicks on a local news channel.

At first, I ignore the thick banners of breaking headlines scrolling across the screen but soon enough, my gaze falls on a familiar face. Putting my coffee down, I pay more attention to what is being said.

A female reporter stands inside a posh room. Four grown men sit at a table behind her while cops and investigators swarm around them. The strange scene makes no sense until my gaze falls on the headlines.

The men of the Morelli family have been killed and the murderer staged them in such a way that it looks like they’re all passed out from drinking. That’s how I know him, I realize, remembering a party from a few years ago when Callum introduced me to the elderly man as a “close friend”.

“Their drinks and food were not poisoned according to preliminary investigations,” says the reporter. “The family and the people working in the villa didn’t see or hear anything strange last night. It’s as if these men simply fell dead.”

“Nice job,” Leon says in an appreciative tone.

“Thanks,” Damien replies, giving him a rare smile.

“Wait a second,” I say, staring at Damien. “You did this?”

He nods, his lips twisting into what I imagine is a smug grin.

“The Morelli family was involved with the criminal syndicates of Ashville, Chicago, and New York City,” the reporter continues. “The police will need time to investigate and search for the killer. As of now, they have no substantial leads to follow.”

“They will search and search,” Leon says with a chuckle and takes a swig of his coffee.

“Why did you kill them?” I ask, glancing at Damien.

Even though the reporter gave out facts about the Morelli family’s involvement with the mafia, she couldn’t stop hinting at the mysteriousness of the whole situation.

“Your brother used them to attack us,” Damien says. “They had to pay for their crimes against the Volkovs.”

“That small army was sent by them?”

“Those greasy bastards thought Callum’s money would help them buy more land and weapons to encroach on some territories in Chicago,” Leon says through gritted teeth. His amber eyes gleam with malice. “If Damien gave me another day, I’d have done the same to those bastards as the guards your brother bribed.”

“I couldn’t wait for you to deal with them,” Damien says. “It was bad enough the Morellis thought they could attack us and get away with it. I had to send the message out to everyone who thinks they can fuck with us.”

“How did you kill them?” I ask curiously.

“Poison,” Damien replies shortly.

“That reporter said the police found no traces of any poison in the house.”

Damien glances at Leon and they both exchange a knowing grin.

“We don’t give up our trade secrets,” Leon says, leaning in to lightly bite my bottom lip.

“Can I ask you guys something else?” I ask.

Damien mutes the TV and fixes me with his piercing blue eyes.

“How did you survive what happened to you?” I ask slowly, glancing between Damien and Leon. “Callum was sure you guys were dead.” Gesturing over at Damien, I add, “What he did to you...you could’ve died from blood loss alone.”

Damien glances at Leon and a concerned look comes over him.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” says Leon. A dead, detached expression descends into his eyes. “Damien and Mikhail were unconscious through most of it.”

Wariness spreads over me. Did I make a mistake by asking that question?

Leon’s butterfly knife is back in his hand. He rotates the handle at blinding speed, turning the flashing blade into a blur. His facial expression remains neutral but I can tell he’s affected by the memories surfacing in his mind.

“Callum’s men threw our bodies in a garbage dump outside town,” says Leon. “They beat the crap out of us, giving us so much internal and external injury, they were sure we’d die within hours. We would have if someone didn’t fish us out and operate on us immediately.”

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