Page 5 of Dark Mafia Heir

He needs to move, now. I keep my stance firm, my eyes trained on every person trooping out from the club. The driver’s door slams, the engine revs, and headlights flash. Luca tips his forehead with two fingers before driving off, but my eyes stay on Vivienne until they’re out of sight.

“Nio!”

I turn around to see Lorenzo, emerging from the back of the alley. With his hair hanging loosely from the bun on his head,the younger man lazily drags an unmasked man across the dirty pavement.

We need answers and maybe this man will be able to provide us with one.

When he gets close, he flashes a cocky smirk, and the man gasps as Lorenzo hauls him forward. Blood smeared across his jaw, and the panic is evident in his eyes now. He’s struggling, but Lorenzo keeps his grip firm. He knows what’s coming. He should.

“Is this the fleabag?”

“Si.” Yes.“I caught him trying to escape with a few others. Turns out, this one can’t run very fast.”

“You put two fucking bullets in my leg, you psycho!” The man’s screams echo in the now almost empty road. Police sirens wail from a far distance, but I know we’ll be out of here before they arrive.

“Count yourself lucky that the big boss wants you alive, else you’d have more than two bullets in your fucking leg,stronzo.”Asshole.

I step closer, my shadow falling over the man like a storm cloud. If I allowed their banter to prolong for a minute more, Lorenzo was more likely to lose his shit and beat the crap of the man, regardless of Dante’s request. He’d always been the one with the shortest fuse between himself and Luca.

Gently, I nudge the man’s feet with my shoes to get his attention. Blazing, panicked eyes snap to mine.

“What’s your name?”

Angrily, he glares, hissing through gritted teeth. “Fuck you!”

Lorenzo lunges, twisting his body, and the heel of his shoes slams into the man’s head. His bun falls loose, and all the hair on his head flies when he attacks. “How fucking dare, you?Bastardo…” he kicks him. “Puttana… testa di merda…” Scoundrel… shithead.

Cursing, he kicks him again, and again. And again.

“Lorenzo!”

“Aissh…” he swears and brushes his hair behind his ears, blinking back the bloodlust rage in his eyes before backing away from the battered man.

More blood colors the pavement, and the man wraps himself in a fetal position, muttering incoherently to himself.

“Let’s try again , shall we? What’s your name?”

Lorenzo picks him up by the shoulder, lifting him to a kneeling position to face me. “Speak.”

Giving Lorenzo a side-glare, he spits thick, bloody saliva to the pavement. “Hayes.”

Shaking his head, he walks up to me with a bitter chuckle, and shrugs doubtfully. “That’s the vaguest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s just his name. He’ll tell us more.” I smile at the man, and point my gun at his temple. “Won’t you, Hayes?”

“You’re wasting your time on me, Antonio Mancini. Tell your boss I’m not saying shit.”

Before another word escapes my lips, Hayes twists to the side—quick, too quick. His hand darts to his pocket, and in an instant, there’s a flash of green.

A leaf—small, thin, but I know it, even in this dim light.

Poison.

Lorenzo and I lunge at the same time, but it’s too late. His jaw snaps shut, crushing the leaf between his teeth, and he swallows. His eyes lock onto mine, defiant and desperate all at once.

No scream. No curses. No plea. Just silence as his body begins to seize, the toxin working fast. Then, he drops to the floor, the light dead in his eyes.

“I should have just killed him.” Disgusted, Lorenzo spits and kicks the corpse in annoyance. “Shit. He proved to be useless, after all.”

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