Page 17 of The Diávolos: Part One
“I’ms–s–sorry, Boss,” Cyrus replies. Tears run down his face and snot trails over his quivering lips. It’s disgusting.
The car comes to a stop at one of our warehouses on the other side of Old Cebrene, and Dion gives me a wary look. The last thing I should do is kill one of my men. It could send a message to outsiders that we are weak. That we don’t have our men in check. I have to be stern enough to let my people know not to mess with me without giving the wrong impression to our partners and rivals. If word gets out that an enemy was snooping around our business to get information, or if my men find out that I was robbed by an insider, no one will take me seriously as the new Godfather. But I don’t give a shit about what people think of me. I’d rather upkeep my reputation as theDiávolosthan make nice as a Godfather of the Night. I’m getting really fucking impatient and I just want to get this over with.
“Everyone out, except you,” I bark, while eyeing the traitor. The guys get out and I open the window on my side. I grab my gun by the barrel and use the handle to knock Cyrus on the nose. His head dips forward as he clutches his face, hissing loudly in pain. I step out, leave him in the car, and point the gun at his head, shutting one eye to get the perfect shot, and I fire. The bullet flies through the window and straight through his temple. Blood splatters everywhere before Cyrus’s body goes limp. Quick and efficient. Easy peasy.
“Get rid of him,” I command as I walk toward the parking lot at the back of the warehouse to get into a different vehicle. Sebastian and Gregory are probably going to take the town car to an abandoned yard and burn it. We have plenty of other cars where it came from.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Evander?” Dion asks as he follows me to the building. He never calls me by my full name unless he’s actually angry. “Why would you do something so stupid? How the hell are we going to get information about whoever was snooping around if our main source isdead?”
“Dion, you’re my brother, but watch your fucking mouth,” I respond without turning to look at him. “I did what had to be done. He stole from me. No one steals from theDiávolosand gets away with it.”
“You could’ve killed himafterwe got the information,vlakas. You’re acting like an angry teenager,” he scoffs.
“Tha mou kláseis, Dion.”Suck my dick.“I know what I’m doing.”
“No. I think you don’t, Evan. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re losing your touch. TheDiávolosis calculated.This? Was not calculated at all,” Dion argues.
I slow down. I turn around to face my brother. I have to remind myself he’s just looking out for me. But I have the urge to punch him right in the fucking nose. And I do. I launch myself at him and my fist lands right on his pretty boy face. Dion’s head flies back, he lets out a loud grunt right before striking me back on the side of my jaw. Blood projects out of my mouth, so I spit to get rid of the pool of metallic liquid. He knows better than to provoke me. I’m hot-headed and impulsive when I have pent up anger. I don’t give a shit who’s in the way. It has to come out one way or another.
“Poutánas yos,” I seethe as I tackle him to the ground. Dion’s body lands on the concrete with a loud thud as he swings his fists at my face. I grab onto his wrist, place my elbow right on his sternum, applying pressure. He yells out in pain before he throws me off him. When we were young, we fought all the time. Once we got comfortable enough to let our emotions out in front of each other, we’d argue and fight until we saw blood. Ignatius or one of his men had to intervene to stop us. Too much volatility in one house, my uncle would claim. This reminds me of those times.
We both stand up within seconds and come face-to-face like two characters from a video game, walking in a slow circle. Our fists hover in the air as we plan our next move.So dramatic.We both have intense fight training, but when we get into a brawl, our coaching flies out the window and we become show-offs. Dion charges at me first and puts his arms around my neck, putting me in a headlock. Air gets caught in my lungs as my breaths come out shallow. “Ánte gamísou,” I croak.Fuck you.“You’re dead once I get out of this.”
“Keep your threats for the people who deserve it,Evanaki,” Dion responds as he tightens his hold around my head. “I’m fighting you as your brother, not your second-in-command. Snap the fuck out of whatever spell you’re under and get your shit together. You’re distracted and taking out your anger in the wrong ways. I thought you’d be smarter than that, so I’m not letting go until every ounce of rage has seeped out of your body,” he continues.
Dion is my brother. I value his opinion. I trust him. If he wants to fight, I’m ready. If he wants to be the one to receive the blunt of my wrath,let’s fucking do this.
I elbow him in the stomach as hard as I can and swing the fist of that same arm right up into his nose again. He lets go of me and we fall to the ground. I climb on top of him and wail onto his face, a growl escapes his lips with every punch. He takes each one without fighting back and I get frustrated he’s just letting me win. “Fight back, asshole,” I shout.
He shoves me away, but it’s not hard enough to throw me off him, so he bends his legs, lifts his ass off the cement and twists his body. The move is unexpected.What the hell?I fly off his waist and land directly on the gravel.Fuck,that hurts. My body is going to hate me for this.
“Are you fucking good now?” Dion asks as he gets up. I stay on my back and look up at the night sky as I catch my breath. I never get the opportunity to just stop and stare. I’m always on the move, always plotting. I never have time to justbe. How ironic is it that I’m contemplating all this while on asphalt, my clothes disheveled, and my face bloodied. My brother might be a grade A dick, but he’s got a point. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to kill Cyrus before fleecing him for information. I just have so much energy to release, and so many new emotions, I don’t know how to handle it all. And Ineverlose focus.It’s because of her, Evan.
Dion extends his hand to help me up and I grab onto it. “Thanks, bro.”
He nods.
We walk the rest of the way to the lot, limping and in pain, but ten times lighter. It’s an unconventional way to deal with your emotions, but when are we ever normal?
* * *
I walkinto my penthouse hours later.
No one would think anyone lives here if they saw it, it looks like a damn showroom. The interior is tasteful, with neutral and dark colors, and my living room is decorated with the most expensive furniture. The expansive area is filled with a tanned, leather couch that hasn’t felt the groove of an ass in ages. Beige and chocolate brown throw pillows sit perfectly on top. A massive sand-colored carpet takes over most of the flooring, topped with a black and brown Oggetti Hanako coffee table that cost seven thousand fucking dollars. I could go on, but I have no clue of anything else that’s in this house, as I gave my decorator the greenlight to spend my money however they wanted in a place I will never callhome.
I don’t use any of it.
I can’t remember the last time I sat on my couch. I hate being home. When I’m alone, my thoughts start to wander, so I’d rather be on the move.
I look out the window to the familiar scenery of Cebrene Heights. No matter what time it is, the streets are always bustling. The sound of traffic calms me.
I purchased this building in Uptown when I first came into a shit ton of money from closing my first deal. I had always lived in the suburbs of Old Cebrene, where my family’s estate and my uncle’s property are located. When I started doing business, I was often in the Heights, so it only made sense to live here when the time came for me to move. There are many high rises here, but this building was the tallest. It wasn’t even for sale, but when the real estate agent brought me up to the penthouse, I had Xander throw a duffle bag full of money at her feet. It was enough money to afford the whole building and then some. She got on the phone and called the owner. When he heard I was looking to buy the tower, he didn’t dare refuse my offer.The perks of being the Diávolos.
I needed a place to call my own. My personal kingdom, where I could rule over my territory and have eyes all over the city. I called it the Saintville Tower.
My uncle’s house was comfortable, but I needed space. Do you know how awkward it is to bring women to a house full of people? I refused to fuck in my uncle’s home. I’d started taking them to my office, but now I'd never take them anywhere else, even though I have my own place now. There’s no logical reason, it just is.
I turn back toward the kitchen and look at my stove for the time. 4:27 a.m.
