Page 125 of Unwritten Rules

The Dictator asked Mario and Nicholas to be near for some sort of meeting; I just hoped they weren’t runners.

It made things messy.

“Hiya, boss.” Reaper saluted me with his typical greeting, wearing his favorite black riding gloves, as always.

“Reaper,” I nodded.

Dave and Jon eyed him standing there. For such brutal men, they were awkward.

I tossed the profiles down on the table beside me. “Here are the two men. Nicholas isn’t to leave alive. Mario is either or. You boys take your pick or flip a coin—I don't care.”

They read over the profiles for a moment, memorizing the faces of the men they were about to brutalize.

I continued, “They’re supposedly at one of our places a bit north. I suspect Nicky boy to be a runner type. Do your due diligence in twenty minutes before we split. We need this handled before morning.”

Folding my arms, I watched them scramble to work for the time we had left to verify the locations of the men. Making the mistake of thinking I had more time with this task before Fallon dropped her bombshell on me, I needed extra hands on deck to ensure smooth sailing of another finished task from my grandfather.

His tasks were endless, and my participation in the business was strictly cleaning. I had to earn my way out into the formal business, and it didn’t help that we had to keep covering up assault cases and domestic disputes.

I just fucking loved a good fight to get me going.

“I’m showing Mario at the place on Eighth Avenue, but Nicholas is nowhere to be found,” Jon broke the silence about ten minutes in.

“Grab your party supplies, they both die tonight.” I grabbed my helmet and let them pile into the car. We’d meet up eventually. I had an interrogation first before I handed him off to the wolves to be torn apart limb by limb.

Bursting through the door, I came face to face with Mario. “Mario, Mario, Mario,” I clicked my tongue at him. “We have some business to attend to, and I’m going to need you to be cooperative.”

My walking in scared him. He was wide-eyed in fear, hands gripping the chair. “What kind of business, m-mister Vaughn?”

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes, “my grandfathers name is Mister Vaughn. He sent me here to ask you a few questions.” I dropped my duffel bag to the floor, pulling out some ropes as my eyes remained locked with his.

His panic levels were rising, his chest rising and falling quickly. “I didn’t do nothing!” He looked left and right as if anyone would be there to help him.

A cruel laugh came from my throat. “Oh, Mario...” I started tying a few preliminary knots absentmindedly while he watched and looked for an escape. “...we both know you did. Now, you’ll answer my questionsifyou know what’s good for you.”

His hands were visibly shaking as I approached and booted him in the chest, sending him flying backwards out of the chair. He screamed. I laughed. The chair collapsed into a few pieces on the ground and Mario was gasping for air, gripping his chest in pain.

I crouched down next to him. “Still going to play dumb? Or can we have a civilized conversation?”

Grabbing his arms and tying them together, he begged me to stop whatever I was doing. “Boss, what is this about?”

“Complacency,” I replied simply, continuing to tie him up. “The type that leads us to be very, very disappointed.”

Realization came over his face that we knew what a shit job he’d been doing when it came to the deliveries and organization of the trade. “It can’t be that bad. We’ve been doing great overseas with no issues!”

My hand itched, so I punched him in the face. “I’m going to ask you a series of questions about Nicky boy, and you will answer honestly and with as much detail as you can. Otherwise, my men will come in and rip you apart—piece by piece.”

His chubby little face squished under my fingers as I gripped his head and forced him—tied up—into a non broken chair. It was tempting to put my boot to his chest again, but I had other tools at my disposal for extracting information.

“I’ll tell you anything, boss,” his voice quivering while I flicked open a knife.

I started cleaning my fingernails with the knife, casually sitting in front of him. “Did you know Nicholas was stealing?” My eyes were trained on him, piercing into his soul. My knife casually pointed in his direction.

“I-I...”

“Ah, ah,” I warned. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I thought he just took a little for himself to try.” He flinched after responding, bracing for impact.

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