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Pathetic.
I glance at my consigliere coolly as I stand up, brushing off my slacks. “Finish him.”
Edo smiles with delight. “With pleasure.”
The Invicta soldier’s screams fill my ears as I leave the room, shutting the door behind me. Once I do, I hear nothing as the soundproof walls prevent anyone from hearing Edo torture the Invicta fuck.
“So, did he squeal?”
My sister, Natalia, leans against the wall outside the interrogation room, one leg bent beneath her and arms crossed.
I shake my head. “Not a fucking word.”
Nat scowls and pushes away from the wall. “Goddammit. We can’t keep losing men, Damian!”
“I know that!” I snap, running a hand through my hair. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Nat?”
“Something other than what you’re currently doing, which is fucking ineffective!”
Before I can rip into my sister, the interrogation room door opens and Edo emerges, splattered in blood.
“Job’s done,” he says grimly, shutting the door behind him so I can’t see what remains of the Invicta member.
Nat glares as Edo cleans off his bloody knife with a white cloth.
“Has the most recent shipment come in?” I ask Nat, wanting to change the subject before we rip each other to shreds.
The filthy look she shoots me indicates she knows what I’m doing and will only let it go for now. I expect nothing less from Nat.
“Yes,” she says, tucking a lock of short, black hair behind her ears. “It’s all been accounted for. The boys will be here in the next hour to pick it up.”
I grunt and pull out my phone, thumbing through recent messages. Uncle Vinny wants to meet with me soon to talk about an important matter.
“How much are we supposed to make?”
“Five hundred thousand,” Nat says evenly.
Edo whistles. “That’s some good shit.”
Nat shrugs. “It’s a good batch.”
I’m over this conversation. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I jerk my head at Edo.
“Let’s go. We have matters to attend to at home. Nat, I imagine you’ll be staying here to keep an eye on matters?”
Nat shoulders ahead of me. “Of course. I don’t trust anyone else with the delivery.”
I settle into the buttery soft leather seat, Edo beside me, as my driver closes the door with a solid thunk.
The plush cream leather molds around my body as I stretch out my legs, rolling my neck to try and release any lingering tension. Instead of relaxing, my body feels tense.
I can’t stop thinking about fucking Invicta.
For the millionth time, I curse at my father for supposedly ordering the hit. I don’t know why he would have done so as Dad wasn’t the type to randomly have people killed—especially kids.
As far as I knew, Dad and Invicta didn’t have any beef when Shields’s family was killed, so Shields claiming Dad ordered the hit baffles me. He has no fucking proof.
But I can’t exactly ask my father why he supposedly did what he did considering he’s fucking dead.
