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“What? No, I—”
I knock him out and he falls limp, then I push him backward. He falls into the black pit that belongs to the Charles.
I watch for a few moments until his body floats away. I can only assume he will surely drown.
It’s pitch black now, so once he’s out of sight, I turn back to the van.
Darko pats me on the back as I suck in the cold night air. I only just realized he had exited the van and was waiting for me at the front.
We drive back to Fortress, the compound Angelo has with state-of-the-art security. It’s mainly used for us to bunker down, if and when the time arises. As well as conducting our meetings without the worry of interference or being overheard.
The place also acts as a bomb shelter and has a panic room.
Dante and Marco are waiting with Angelo and Enzo.
Enzo is Angelo’s best friend and head of our security operations. He does some PI work on the side. He’s still in the honeymoon phase with our little sister Valentina.
Dante looks worried, but being the youngest out of all of us, that’s kind of understandable. We always look out for each other, no matter what.
“Angelo told us what happened,” Dante says when I immediately head to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a stiff drink. “That asshole had it coming, Fynn.”
I nod as I sling the whiskey back, burning the back of my throat. It’s a pity it can’t burn my memory as well. “Know it,” I say quietly.
Fuck.
He doesn’t even ask me if it’s done. He trusts me, and now I’m not so sure if that’s a good thing.
I run a hand through my hair as Marco walks toward me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, the concern grave on his face.
I shrug it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a strange situation,” I reply, swallowing hard.
They know I’ve never killed a man before.
“You’ll get through this,” Angelo says. “It’s always difficult the first time. It will get easier.”
I know the business, I get it. I’m in the middle of business school, and trying to learn the ropes so I can take on one of our commercial businesses and a club we’re looking at purchasing. We have several restaurants, including Gloria’s Bistro, which Aunt Gloria used to run back in the day.
All the while, guilt creeps over me because, technically, he was still breathing when I threw him into the water.
Nobody could survive that...
“I have to get these wet clothes off me,” I mutter, shaking from the cold.
It’s bitter out there and the somber mood doesn’t help.
I did the right thing.I have to believe that.
Maybe not in Angelo’s eyes, but I’ve got enough blood on my hands without having to relive it.
It’s done.
That’s all there is to it.
5
SAGE
