Page 24 of Taint My Soul

“We don’t know who they are, but the men on duty have some explaining to do.” He clears his throat. “We caught them speaking to some strangers two nights ago. The same people we found loitering at the warehouse through the cameras.”

“Is Father aware of this?”

“Not yet, brother.” Virgil states.

I need to put an end to this before he finds out. One wrong move. One mistake. And he deems me incompetent.

Six months ago, he called my brother and me into his office and revealed of a chronic illness that has eaten deep into him. Sooner or later, he would die. That means he has to choose one of his sons to take over his empire.

I’m the next King. The next successor.

I have labored for his throne. Given it my all. My best.

I cannot let these ungrateful bastards ruin everything. If my questions go unanswered, bones will break and heads will roll.

“Father misses you.” Virgil’s words pull me out of my thoughts.

“He drove me away.”

“I report to the man on weekends.” I tell Virgil without any care. What matters is that I run Seven Stone Finance to perfection.

The last time I saw him we got into a heated argument. I had ruined my chances of getting married to the daughter of one of the most powerful kingpins in the country. Aside from that, my hatred for my old man had grown over the years. It only took him a moment to ruin my life. He’s homophobic. He’s done terrible things even to his own flesh and blood. Even to the woman whom he’d vowed to love until his death.

If he finds out the truth about what I do in Red Horn, he will deem me worthless for an inheritance. Everything I have bled for will go to shit.

That’s why I keep my dealings a secret, why I pay for exclusivity at the club. Why I take what I want. No feelings or emotions attached whatsoever.

“But…”

“Can we not talk about him and focus on this?” I cut him off.

“Right.”

My bodyguards take their places in front of the building. The door that leads into the freight container lifts, opening into the dim space. Industrial lamps hang on both sides of the wall. Steel beams arch overhead, and chains dangle from the top, making a clicking sound at every vibration.

In the center of the container, large chains hold two men to straight-backed metal chairs, their mouths gagged and their bodies bleeding from being flogged with electric wires. When they see me approaching, they struggle against the chair, screaming and begging.

These are the men who work for me. Fucking crackheads. All they had was one fucking job.

Steer clear of everything that belongs to me.

Stay loyal to me.

Dedicate their lives to me.

If they can’t fall in line like the rest of the foot soldiers that work for my family’s organization. Perhaps it’s time for me to paint the walls of this container with their blood.

“Here they are.” He says and walks around the two men, removing their gags. Virgil must have been bargaining with them in his own way. What can I say, the fucker lives for the thrill of torture. He started training with the help of my late uncle when he turned ten, knew the real deal about the family’s business after his fifteenth birthday, and had his first kill at sixteen.

Virgil is the worst apple in the bushel.

The air shifts around me as I stand in front of the two men. They are not making a single sound, but they are begging. I see it in their eyes. All they need to do is answer my questions.

“Names?” I demand.

“Oliver.” the man on my right says.

“Bex.” The other man splutters.