It appears we have a new adversary in our territory.
I internally grimace, dissatisfied by the whimpering mess of a man. Why is it that the bigger they are, the quicker these crybabies crumble?
However, at the very least, I'm getting what I came here for.
“Where can I find him?” I ask, pushing his face into the grill. He screams, and I scrunch my nose up at the smell of burning flesh. I lift his face, and he’s whimpering hysterically.
“I don’t know much more. After The Lion was killed, a few of us regrouped, and Novikov took charge. I don’t know any more. I swear. I don’t even know what he looks like. He only ever gives orders over the phone.”
“And you listen?” I scoff. But I'm very interested in this lead.
“H-he’s s-smart,” the oaf blubbers. “When I told him I wasn’t listening to a coward who hides behind a phone, he suggested I look in my bedroom, and there was a bomb with a timer under my bed. I panicked. It’s how he got the others to work for him, too. Most of my deals are with him. I barely have time to deal with anyone else.”Except the old man sitting at the bar, I think. But he’s not my focus anymore.
“I want a list of those who work for him.”
“You’ve been killing the last of us!” Saliva flies from his lips, and snot runs out of his nose as he holds in a pained sob. “I swear I don’t know who he is or how to find him. I just acquire the weapons, and a hooded guy meets me behind the Trail Blaze restaurant on the last day of every month. We exchange goods and cash. I overheard him on the phone once with Fyodor, and the only thing I could make out from Fyodor's end of the call was when he mentioned he had a shift at a bar. So I’m assuming he uses it as a front. But that’s all I know. I swear!”
Interesting. So this oaf is only a lead to a bigger fish, which is exciting.And it piques my curiosity as to how useful this oaf is to me now.
“Those you approach for business… is it all on his behalf now?” I threaten to put his cheek back against the grill, prompting a quick response as he whimpers, sweat dripping off his forehead and sizzling on the grill beside the chargrilled burger.
“Yes. I stopped working independently the moment I was forced to work for him. Please, you have to believe me!”
I sigh, now growing bored with this man. There’s nothing else I can gain from him. He’s already a dead man, so I might as well send this Fyodor Novikov a message. Because if I don’t do it, then his master certainly will. It’s just the world we live in.
I pull my scalpel out, sliding it across his throat with ease, enjoying the rage music playing in the background. His blood sprays against the burnt patty and the white tiling on the floor. I walk over to the sink, wash my hands clean, and then pull out my phone and text Izak.
Me: Ctrl Alt Delete.
His reply is almost immediate.
Izak: Just say ‘delete the footage’ like a normal fucking person.
I smirkas I call Luca, who answers on the first ring.
“Fyodor Novikov,” I begin, then relay all the information I just learned.
“It’s a lead, at the very least. Find him,” Luca demands before hanging up.
I message the hounds with the same information. My blood pumps with excitement for the hunt to come. However, everything in due time. I have another pressing matter to attend to.
I pocket my phone and stride back into the bar area. Romi peeks over curiously, and the moment she spots me, she quickly hides beneath the hoodie again.
With perfect timing, the bartender brings out two tequila shots and places them in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow, and I hook an arm over her shoulder.
“Hello,Cattivella,” I purr into her ear. “I like it when a woman dresses up for me. I’m even more elated that you’ve been stalking me.”
She shiftily looks out from under her hoodie, and her surprise at me finding her out is adorable. “Let’s have a shot before we have a little chat, shall we?” I encourage her to take the shot.
It’s strange that she doesn’t seem frightened. If anything, she appears to be irritated because I caught her. I follow her gaze to my shirt.
“You have blood on you again,” she notes.
I offer a wicked grin as I clink my shot glass against hers.
“Perhaps I’m messier than I realize,” I say as she meets my eyes with a glare and then throws back her own shot.
Good girl.
