Conquered by the Mafia Boss

Fuck.

“Sorry.”

I hand over the clipboard and he rips it from me. I peer at his badge. Nathan Ross. The very same Nathan Ross I’m trying to find. Frustration bleeds into hot rage as my fists tighten at my sides.

“It’s fine,” he says in an irritated tone. “Can I help you?”

Yeah, you can help me. You piece of shit.

He looks young-probably the same age as me-but he looks like shit. There are cuts on his face where the retard shaves himself, and his haircut is uneven. Dark circles under his eyes indicate sleepless nights.

“No. Have a nice day.”

I force myself to turn on the spot and walk away from him as every inch of me seethes. Won’t have to wait that long.

I don’t actually remember walking back to the parking garage. My eyes blink under the cover of the darkness, hands shaking. There’s no fear, just searing-hot madness. A whistle cuts through the garage and I hide behind the concrete wall next to Nathan’s car. His footsteps echo loudly and I make sure to hide under plain sight of the camera.

Another surge of hatred burns my insides. Whistling. How the fuck can you whistle?

A man dressed in blue scrubs walks beside me. I lunge at him like a snake, immobilizing him in seconds and smothering his mouth with my hand. He struggles violently, and my arm slides over his throat. I squeeze the vein throbbing on the side of his neck and wait until his body goes limp. I let him collapse to the floor, his head smacking against the concrete.

There’s no point in killing him now. Then I fish in his pants for the keys to his car and I pop open the trunk. His body makes a dull sound as I throw him in there.

The drive doesn’t soothe my nerves. I can hear him fucking around in the back, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I expect him to pass out from the heat, but even that would be too good for that rat bastard. A horrifying image of my brother immobilized on the hospital bed flashes through my head, but I shove it away. Can’t think of that now.

The car bounces as I drive through the uneven dirt road to the junkyard. His screams rebound inside the small trunk, and finally I park his car between two mounds of crushed metal and cut the engine.

This might be it.

His screams lift to the air when I pop open the trunk. “What the fuck are you doing? Where am I?”

“If you move, I’ll kill you.” I slip the sidearm out of my jacket to let him know that I’m not fucking around.

Watery blue eyes widen with fear as he lies in the trunk of his own car, and I hear a dull roar pounding in my ears. I raise the gun to his temple.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can have my money.” He grabs his wallet from his pocket and tosses it to me. It lands in a cloud of dust. “Just take it!”

Maybe I’ll play with him before I eat him.

I grab the flimsy wallet from the ground and search through its contents. “Twenty bucks? That’s all you got? Geez, a nurse’s salary ain’t much, is it?”

“I can get more! Please, don’t hurt me!”

Don’t hurt me. But the asshole didn’t care about my brother, did he? He didn’t give a flying fuck about him.

I grab the scruff of his neck and smash the heel of the gun over his face. His nose shatters and blood sprays all over his bright blue scrubs. A thrill shoots up my ribs as he clutches his face, moaning.

“Months ago you accepted a bribe from a man in the hospital. You were told to take a walk from the ICU. Don’t fucking deny it!”

Terrified eyes glance at me. “I-I didn’t.”

I aim the gun at one of his knees and the cracking sound splits the sky, almost drowning out his agonized howl. Blood mushrooms around his knee and tears stream from his eyes.

“I bet that really fucking hurts, doesn’t it?” Seized by a sudden burst of anger, I grab his blood-soaked knee and squeeze. He cries like a little bitch. “Answer me, you miserable prick!”

“Okay!” he screams, holding out his hand. “I did-some guy gave me money-”

My heart crashes against my ribs. “What the fuck did he look like?”

“I don’t know! He had a suit-a black one. Thin face. Short black hair.”

Jesus fucking Christ, this is useless. He could be describing John, for all I know, but the boss never does his own dirty work.

His voice raises an octave. “Look, I didn’t know what was going to happen, okay? He told me to take a walk, so I did.”

“Tell me how much they paid you for my brother’s life.”

He shakes his head, crying silently when he hears the rage trembling my voice. “I’m sorry.”

“How much?”

The miserable bastard flinches at my yell. “F-five hundred.”

My stomach sinks and I clench my eyes. Goddamn it. My chest tightens so that I can barely breathe. My brother’s life was bought for five hundred dollars. They paid off witnesses and took care of the security cameras, but why would they leave this one breadcrumb for me to find? Sloppy. Not like John at all.

I can envision it. Several men in dark suits, silhouetted, quietly slipping into my brother’s room. Grabbing the pillow behind his head and smothering his face. Mike wouldn’t have been able to fight back in his condition. There’s something about that-I want to throw up. A line of nausea creeps into my mouth as I imagine them digging it into his face. It would have been so simple. He was paralyzed.

“How does it feel to die for five hundred worthless dollars?”

“HELP!”

I cut off his screams with another crack. The bullet hits him square in the chest and his mouth bursts with blood. I fire again. Again. Again. So many fucking times. Until his body is riddled with holes and his blood pools in the trunk. I clean the gun with my shirt and then I toss it inside. Nathan’s face is frozen in twisted agony, but my rage still burns. I slam the trunk lid down as the echoes of the gunshots fade in the distance.

I slam my fist into the car, warping the metal as my yells are swallowed by the mountain of crushed vehicles. I check my watch, my head pounding, and I grit my teeth.

Johnny’s waiting for me at the MC.

Where I’m going to get engaged to some bitch I’ve never even met.

Great.

A sickening feeling possesses me like a slow-acting poison, unlike the fear settling in my guts. I stand in this dark room, waiting for Johnny to show up as Fran? ois and Tommy eye me as though I’m a fucking liability.

I’m just waiting to die, aren’t I?

This looks like just the place. Four walls. Suspiciously stained wooden floorboards. Two men eye-fucking me. We’re way, way out in the boonies, in biker territory where no one will give a shit even if they hear my screams.

The door creaks, opening wide to admit a slim figure wearing a plain charcoal suit. It’s Johnny, the boss of the family. Black waves of hair speckled with gray are rolled back to reveal a handsome face. Inwardly I recoil. He’s the man who haunts my nightmares. I can’t help but battle a burgeoning swell of rage and fear whenever I see him. The nausea goes straight to my gut.