"When did it start?"
"Before we struck our deal. It was all a setup to get you to that location and have you killed."
"How did you find out that we would be at the docks today?"
"The same way I get any information on you and your activities, through text." He gave Othello a bloody smile. "You have a rat running around in your midst, and they aren't working alone."
"Do you know who they are working with?"
Falcon huffed. "If I did, I wouldn't be working with your rat. I'd simply go to them."
"The night we met, you were stalling, which was why you argued about the negotiation." It wasn't a question, so he wasn't expecting Falcon to say anything.
"Of course I was, but my guys were supposed to show up as soon as we sat down. There shouldn't have been any negotiation." He tsked. "You were supposed to die, Moor. I don't know what kind of star you were born under to survive every attempt on your life, but it's a lucky fucking one. You were supposed to die on the operating table. My cousin made sure the second bullet was left inside of you. Who knew that the surgeon would find it? Maybe I should have killed him."
Sharp gasps filled the room, but Othello ignored them. He was certain Falcon had no clue who Des was or what they meant to each other.
"You sound jealous," he said.
"I am," Falcon whispered. "You were adopted into an influential family, and your father respects you to the utmost, and you're not even his flesh and blood. Even my father gave everything we owned to you before he died. I had to forge my father's will to keep our family properties together. So when a message came to me to set up a meeting for us to set you up, I jumped at the chance. Getting my hands on Rizzo's property wasn’t as important as taking you out. I respect you, Moor, but I don't like you. I suppose many others feel the same way I do."
Othello stared at Falcon for a few minutes before he spoke. "I told my father you would be dead by the end of the year, and although I was willing to give you a chance to build up your clan and then take you on, after this, I can honestly say you're not worth it. Fuck, Julian, I almost forgot you existed." Othello shook his head. "All you had to do was stay quiet and live your life. But when you threaten me and mine, you suffer the consequences."
"What of yours did I threaten?" Falcon growled.
"First, my father, then my brother, and last, the doctor who saved me is now my beloved."
"I don't care!" Falcon shouted. "How the fuck could I live a good life when I knew sooner or later you would come after me and my family?"
"But no one told you to put yourself in front of me. You're weak, Julian. I’d expected it would take you days to crack, and I ended up breaking a date with my beloved; who knew you couldn't take a few fucking licks, and you'd start squealing like a little piggy." Othello huffed.
"I'm not weak!" Falcon shouted. "Let's change positions and tell me how it feels."
"I've had worse," Othello snapped, not going into details, but the surrounding men knew the truth. Alessandro loved him and Iago to death, but he was tough on them, especially regarding training. Growing a thick skin wasn’t just for insults.
"You're pathetic." Othello stood, brushing off his clothes just as Tallen came over and handed him a stack of paper. "As for your father's will, we found it, which makes you insignificant."
"How did you get that?" he asked, looking at the folder, wide-eyed.
"I told you that you weren't smart. When you want to hide important documents, you put them in a safe far away where no one can get to them. Not in the bottom of your fucking desk drawer. Enough talking."
Falcon trembled and shook the chains holding him. "Please, Moor, don't do this," he begged. "I—I can be useful. You still need me. You know the commission won't stand for this. Sure,they turned a blind eye when we took out Rizzo, but they will come for you, Moor. Listen to me! I—I can find out who the traitor is."
"Really?" Othello said, ignoring all the other parts of his ramblings. "How?"
"T-tonight, they are waiting for me to text them at ten with confirmation of your death. They'll know I failed if they don't hear from me."
Othello tapped his thumb on his leg, growing more annoyed at this man's stupidity. "They already know I'm alive. It's now eleven thirty." The fear in Falcon's eyes excited Othello, reminding him of the first time a man knew he would die. He looked at Tallen. "You want to move up in the ranks, right?"
"Yes, boss," Tallen said, moving forward and standing beside him.
Othello pulled his gun from its holster and handed it to Tallen, who took it. "Then you know what you must do." He stepped back and waited for Tallen to act. The man had been by his side for quite some time. He'd been hesitant to move Tallen up in the ranks, but maybe it was time.
"P—" was all Falcon got out before the gun went off.
Othello smiled and moved next to Tallen, clasping his shoulders. "Well done. Today, you are no longer a made man but our youngest capo. Don't disappoint me, Tallen. We'll have your official party in a few days. After getting rid of the body, you are all free to celebrate."
"Thank you, boss," Tallen smiled.
