Page 5 of Broken Vows

Leans closer.

Breathing into my space like a fucking child daring a dog to bite.

"Dad wanted proof. And hey—rules are rules. Just gotta sign 'em in blood."

He spins the ring across the desk.

It skitters to a stop by my papers.

Of course. He wants me to look. Wants me to remember.

"Plus—one less snitch. One less mouth for you to feed. Am I right?"

He thinks he’s clever.

But I see it—the restlessness.

The hunger for someone to clap him on the back for chaos.

“What about the wife? Somebody’s going to miss him.”

He shrugs.

Turns on his heel.

"Wife. Kids. Hell if I know. Not my problem."

"I’m only in charge of discipline, remember?"

He waves his hands.

Like a spoiled prince dismissing the help.

“Now Dad gets to sleep happy.” His eyes are an empty shade of blue; they never used to look like this when we were boys.

I don’t show my disgust.

Weakness is a luxury we can’t afford.

Not now. Not while we’re scrambling to hold territory.

Marco craves the spotlight.

Wants to be the monster everyone whispers about when the lights go out.

I want efficiency.

Clean hands, clean sheets, clean books.

I don’t care who shivers at my name.

As long as the money moves.

And my men stay alive.

Our philosophies are at war. But the battlefield is this filthy warehouse. And the growing mania inside Marco’s skull.

He leans in again, riding the high.