Page 10 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Cristiano shook his head playfully, thoroughly aware of all the ways to taunt Mikko. “After you, princess.”
Once Alek had passed, many people Mikko thought he could count on showed their true colors. People despised him for his role within the business and wanted to take over what he’d inherited. They thought he was too young, not passionate enough for the job—himself included, truthfully—and wanted him gone. Many of the scars he bore were a testament to the hatred of those he used to call family.
“No,boss,I just don’t want you to waste all your energy,” Cristiano supplied cheerfully, “You’ve got a human punching bag waitin’ on ya, after all.”
“You already know how I feel about you calling me that,” Mikko scolded.
That earned him a laugh. “That’s why I do it…boss.”
Dodging the swat Mikko aimed at Cristiano’s shoulder, he let the metal doorsnickshut behind them. Ahead laid a mundane hall, charcoal walls made everything feel claustrophobic. Perhaps that was the intent since Ivan had always craved power and instilling hierarchy into people as soon as they stepped below the public realm.
Where the nameBubblegumcame from then, Mikko would never know…
Doors lined each side of the corridor, individual rooms laying beyond which usually hosted gambling sessions, small meetings, and private events. It appeared Ivan enjoyed his pastimes more than his wallet could maintain.
And tonight, the soundproofed rooms would serve Mikko’s purpose. Using them against Ivan felt like an amusing twist of fate, one that made Mikko smile. Ivan had gone on without consequence for too long. Hell, the article he’d read had been icing on the fucking cake.
A familiar feeling of undeniable restlessness settled into his bones as he came to a stop in front of the room holding the man in question. Usually, Mikko didn’t feel this off kilter, but his sips of vodka and entire three finger poured glass of tequila lit something inside of him.
His reserved mask was slipping.
A guard stood by the door, one of Mikko’s men, waiting. His arms were loosely clasped in front of his belt in a casual but alert stance. With a single nod, the man swung the door open for Mikko and Cristiano. As they crossed the threshold into the room, Mikko found himself nailing the coffin shut over his curiosity, firmly affixing his mask right where it needed to be; it was time to begin.
One harsh overhead light illuminated the space, and Mikkosquinted as he approached the center of the small room. The usual furniture had been moved aside to line the perimeter of this non-porous hellscape; the table was pushed up against the far wall, its chairs accompanying it.
All butone.
Ivan’s form was tied to the single chair, a piece of duct tape covering his mouth. Mikko fought the twitch tugging at his mouth at the sight—Cristiano liked his theatrics and played into stereotypical tropes when he could.
Two more men stood in the room, magnifying the cramped feeling Mikko was experiencing. How Ivan held groups of men down in these rooms without grinding his teeth into dust, he wasn’t sure.
Looking him over, Mikko noticed the swelling present on Ivan’s face along with deep lacerations. Cristiano had made sure their menweren’tgentle about restraining Ivan when they’d brought him down here.
Anger that Mikko usually kept on a tight leash lashed at his mind and his muscles, commanding him to let it out in the only way he preferred. While Alek’s teachings may not have aligned with Mikko’s ethics, he still knew how to play this game. A true predator learned all the different methods of extracting information—violence needed or not.
Straining against it, he let it build inside him all while maintaining a stoic facade. He was in control.Of his body. Of Ivan. And of his urges. It was imperative since all other aspects of his life were steeped in impotency—
The feeling of soft fingertips grazing along his arm, exploring higher,interrupted his ritualistic preparations.Her face popped into his head unannounced, again, silky onyx hair framing her beautiful face.
A different kind of anger, one composed of spearing shards of ice cut through his gut at the intrusive thought. He’d told himself on thewalk down that he would stop thinking of her, that he’d stop letting her erratic behavior plague his thoughts. He was above this.
But despite his best efforts, his brain had other ideas. Disregarding the walls he’d erected in his mind to keep her out, she’d somehow crept through the small mental cracks. Years of discipline slipped through his fingers, shattered by one thought—one person. That was why he stayed away from women; they either used him or distracted him.
“It’s refreshing to see these rooms used for something other than youractivities,” Mikko started, revealing nothing of his warring thoughts. He made sure to take note of the room, before letting his gaze linger on Ivan’s battered form.
“Remind me why I gave you a piece of my empire when I have others who’dkillfor your position?” Mikko stood outside the ring of light. “Or should I keep you down here for a few weeks so we can both watch what your absence attracts in these bloody waters?”
Ivan’s mouth wiggled under the duct tape, a smart response most likely on his lips.
“You’re disposable, Ivan. Replaceable, even. A fact you certainly know by now, so what happened?” Mikko stepped closer. “Did the title get to you? The money?”
Ivan mumbled something unintelligible, face reddening in frustration as Mikko smiled coldly at his squirming. “No need to struggle so, it’s a simple yes or no question.”
The bound man nodded his head enthusiastically.
Taking his eyes off of Ivan for a moment, he inclined his head to the rest of his men in the room. If he was truly his father’s son, the men would’ve been dismissed for Mikko to handle Ivan on his own, but nights like this, he hated getting his hands dirty all alone. Instead, this was a gesture of solidarity.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but you’ve always had a knackfor disappointing me. Since I can’t be caught with your blood under my nails at my next client meeting, I brought some help with me. Small mercies,” Mikko shrugged, hearing Cristiano cough out a laugh behind him, “for me, butcertainlynot for you.”
