Her Edge

His rage II

Matteo

The room reeks of blood and damp steel. It’s been silent for too long, the kind of silence that scrapes at your nerves until you want to claw your own ears out. Nobody dares to breathe too loud.

Except him.

The bastard on the floor. His breaths come shallow, wet, broken.

Matteo stands a few steps back, on edge. Rosary pressed into his hand.

Nickolai has a thin patience for mistakes, especially ones concerning his son. He almost screwed up today. Almost made the devil's son slip.

Mistakes don't have second chances around the Navarette's heir.

They picked him up when he was making his getaway, brought him to the hatch. Renewed his mindset with a couple beatings and torturing.

His wishes to atone for his mistakes and he just got lucky.

But, it would have been better if he died from the fall or from the beatings and torture than to actually meet Nickolai. A man who's name alone instills fear in the hearts of the other mafia bosses.

Nickolai sits in the chair, opposite, one leg crossed over the other. His face is expressionless and carved from ice. No twitching from anger, no grin from satisfaction_ just deadly unblinking eyes.

They say more than words could.

"I'm sorry!" The man on the floor sobs. "I'm sorry for coming after your son!...." His voice crackles, dripping with blood. Half of his two front teeth are gone. Courtesy of Matteo.

There's no obvious change in expression, but Matteo can tell he's irritated.

"Please, I'll disappear! Just please..."

Mateo silently exhales.

Don't beg.

You don't beg the devil.

Nickolai sighs, the man squirms, and Matteo for some reason, flinches.

"Your first offense was reaching for my son. Second, you tried to have your way with his teacher". He lights a cigarette, a thin stream of smokes curls up in the air.

"Some guts you've got".

The man shakes his head. Choked cries escaping from his throat. He wriggles in his chair"I -I didn't...no I-"

His voice drops something colder than winter steel. "Did you ever try r****g your mother in Los Angeles? Or your little sister in Dublin?"

He jerks from the shock then shudders in despair. "No- please, don't... don't hurt them".

His begging catches Matteo off guard and once again, he flinches. He shuts his eyes, the bastard's begging means nothing. He's dumped way too many bodies in alleys to know that.

Nickolai arches a brow at him. "What about the others? Women you've brutalized? Don't they deserve justice?"

The man grits his teeth in tears. He whimpers, curling in on himself, just to hide away from Nickolai's piercing cold gaze.

He eyes his bloody shorts. "Well, I think Matteo has already started that justice". Nickolai flicks his gaze to Matteo.

Matteo's spine stiffens. He can't seem to stop doing that. He doesn't want to take credit for something so trivial. For all he knows, his fate might be sealed first before this bastard's.

"Now that things have been made easier..."

Nickolai is a business man. It's typical that he never loses. It's the same in the mafia world.

It's more of, the devil doesn't bargain complex.

He relaxes his shoulders, dragging in a long stream of smoke then he exhales. "Here's the deal" his tone calm and casual like he's negotiating a merger. "I let you live and I come after your mother, your sister and her unborn child". A small smile tugs at his corners. "But there's no guarantee that I won't hunt you down, and kill you" his shoulders lift in a slow shrug. "That's if they don't get you first".

"Either way, I win".

The man breaks into a cold sweat, he knows Nickolai isn't mincing words." You monster..." He quivers.

A low chuckle. "Finally. Honesty".

Matteo's heart races. He kisses the rosary in his hand and whispers a little prayer for his and the man's soul. One he's not sure God might hear.

Nickolai rises. "Do I give you a moment to think about it? Careful_ I might change my mind".

He shoots up his head, tears streaming down his bloodied face. "I-I have your word?"

Nickolai smiles. Soft, deadly and blood thirsty. "I'm a monster. Not a liar".

He's silent.

"I'll take that as a yes".

He walks up to Matteo his fingers slipping into his suit, fingers locking round the trigger.

For one terrifying beat, Matteo wonders if the gun will turn on him instead. His legs nearly giving out on him and his stomach in bolts.

Then bang_ the man's head drops.

The sound is non resonating and respectful.

Matteo's ears ring, he holds his breath, his heart unsteady

God_ for a second he thought...he thought....

Nickolai hands him back his gun. He notices his demeanor.

"Relax". He mutters, giving him a light shoulder pat that means more than forgiveness.

Relax?

Like that's possible around a man like him. Even the room understands when he's pissed.

Matteo is still standing in the room alone. Shame burning at the back of his throat. He failed the one thing the devil entrusted him with. How will he show his face knowing fully well he's still alive because he let him. When he should be six feet under instead?

That is a thousand times worse than a bullet.

For some reason, Nickolai picked him up from the ruins because he saw something in him. Something he never and still hasn't seen.

This is the third time....