Page 27 of Madness & Mercy (Deadly Sins #1)

NICO

I nudge his shoulder when we pull up to the estate.

Julian stirs awake fast, his eyes sharpening the second he realizes where we are. Luca’s idling in the Benz up ahead, Enzo’s already on his bike, smoke curling from his lips like he’s been waiting.

Julian bolts upright like he’s been caught doing something dirty, which, to be fair, he was. He fumbles to zip up his pants and his shirt over his head. Cute.

“When the hell did we get here?” he mutters, checking his reflection like it’ll make a difference.

“Relax,” I say, tugging his arm gently, dragging him back into his seat as I help him with the buttons on his shirt. “Tinted windows, remember?”

His jaw unclenches, but not all the way.

“They’re not stupid, Nico,” he mutters. “They know.”

I smile, buttoning him up to his throat.

“That’s debatable. And do you want them to know, piccolino?”

That gets him. Color rises high in his cheeks, his neck flushing warm. He looks away, jaw ticking.

“Of course not,” he mutters. “Why the fuck would I want that? I just meant—” He glances toward the windshield. “Aren’t you… embarrassed?”

I tilt my head. “Embarrassed of what?” I ask. “Fucking my hostage?”

His gaze snaps to mine. “Fucking a man,” he says. “I was your first, wasn’t I?”

That stalls me for half a beat. I blink. He caught that?

I’d spent hours reading, watching, learning. Obsessing, really. Not because I was afraid I’d be bad at it, but because I needed to be good for him. The way he gasped for me, clung to me, begged like I was the only one who’d ever touched him right… I thought I pulled it off.

But apparently I’d given something away.

Then he laughs. That dry, scratchy, way-too-rare laugh that cuts right under my ribs. Fuck. I thought I liked it best when he scowled… but now I’m not so sure.

“Calm down,” he says, smirking like he’s got the upper hand. “I didn’t say you were bad. Honestly, I’m a little impressed. Could’ve been worse.”

I narrow my eyes, leaning closer. “You’re not answering the question.”

He shrugs. “You were only with women before me. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Is it?” I murmur, watching him freeze. “Because if it’s not from firsthand experience, how exactly would you know that?”

He hesitates.

“I just guessed,” he says quickly.

I grin and lean in until my lips are at his ear. “You admitted it’s not because of my skills in bed,” I whisper, and feel the way his whole body tenses. “So what is it then? You been watching me fuck women all these years?”

His ears go red, hot against my cheek. Busted.

“Mmm,” I hum, dragging it out. “That’s right. Now I remember what you said that night. You knew my name, my routine, my address. You even knew where I fucked…”

I tilt my head, smiling slow.

“But you conveniently left out who I fucked.”

He freezes, his lip caught between his teeth like he’s debating whether to lie or stay silent. I pull back just enough to see his face. He doesn’t say a word.

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

“Tell me something, Julian,” I murmur, low and amused. “Did you enjoy watching me fuck women? Did you picture it was you underneath me instead?”

He flinches, just barely, but it’s enough.

I should stop. I won’t. This is way too much fun.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters, his voice rough. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure,” I say. “You hard right now because I’m flattering myself, or because you’re still playing out that fantasy in your head?”

There’s that scowl. Fuck, I love that expression.

“Go to hell,” he grits out.

I chuckle, reaching for the door handle.

“Already there, cucciolo. You’re riding shotgun.”

I step out of the car and walk around to his side, popping the door open and offering him a hand, just to piss him off.

Julian slaps my hand away like I burned him. “Fuck off.”

He steps out, already pulling that mask back on. The cold, sharp-edged version of himself he thinks keeps people out. But I’ve already seen what’s underneath. He can’t hide that from me anymore.

We approach the others. Luca’s leaning against the Benz, arms folded, looking like he’s two seconds from starting a fight just for fun. Enzo’s lounging on his bike, spinning a butterfly knife in lazy circles. They straighten up when they see us, eyes flicking from Julian to me and back.

Yeah. They know.

I never said a word, but I’m not stupid. Luca’s not either. I see it in the way he studies Julian, like he’s trying to figure out how deep this shit goes. How far I’ve already let it spiral. And Enzo, that smug fucker, he’s just waiting for someone to say it out loud.

“Didn’t know you were bringing him along,” Luca mutters.

Julian’s jaw tightens. He steps in before I can even open my mouth.

“You got a problem with me, say it to my face.”

Luca arches a brow. “Didn’t say I had a problem.”

“You didn’t have to,” Julian snaps.

I let it simmer a second. Julian’s bristling like a feral cat, and Luca looks like he’s one comment away from mentioning the dirt he dug up on Julian. I see it flash in his eyes… he wants to say it. Wants to ask why the hell I’d bring someone like Julian on a job like this.

But I give him a look that says not a fucking word.

Luca holds my gaze for a beat too long, then looks away. Smart man.

I turn back to the matter at hand. “We’ve got a few hours before midnight.”

Luca pulls out his phone and brings up the layout. “Garage entrance is the weak spot. Cams are old, power lines exposed near the east wall.”

“Two guards outside,” Enzo adds. “Six more inside. No civilians. Braga likes his privacy.”

“Enzo cuts the power,” I say, taking control. “Luca stays on lookout. I’m going in with Cross.”

Julian doesn’t look at me. He just nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen, all business again. He knows I’m using his real name now for a reason.

He definitely suspects they know something, but no one’s going to say a fucking thing. Not while I’m standing here.

Braga’s a dead man walking, and Julian is mine now, whether the others like it or not.

We burn the next couple hours in the basement, stacking crates with enough firepower to start a war: extra clips, silencers, grenades, Kevlar, burner phones. Julian keeps his head down, but I notice the shift in him. The flex of his jaw. The way his hands linger too long on the blades.

He wants this.

By the time we’re geared up, we’ve still got a few minutes to kill, so we pay a visit to our little friend downstairs. Can’t have him thinking we forgot about him.

He’s still tied to the chair, arms numb, face bruised from our last chat. He looks up when the door creaks open, eyes wide, like maybe we came to finally let him go.

“You sure Braga will be there at midnight?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, yes. I told you already, he’s always there at midnight. He doesn’t miss. Now untie me, you sick fucks!”

I chuckle, slow and cold. “Maybe I will. After I watch your boss take his last breath.”

He jerks against the zip-ties, fury in his eyes. “You’re making a mistake. You don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with.”

“Funny,” I murmur, stepping forward. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

He scoffs. “I hope Braga kills every last one of you.”

I move toward him, but Julian beats me to it.

“Braga’s not coming for you. You know that, right?”

The guy glares at him. “You don’t know a goddamn thing.”

Julian crosses his arms. “Don’t I? How long’s it been now, two days? Three? He hasn’t even sent someone to check if you’re alive.”

“Fuck off.”

“You were a pawn. That’s it. He used you, like he uses everyone else. And now you’re here. Alone. Rotting in your own piss.”

The guy spits blood at Julian’s boots. “And you’re any better? Braga’s bitch turned traitor? He should’ve slit your throat when he had the chance.”

Snap.

I’m across the room before Julian can blink. My fist cracks against the bastard’s cheek, his head snapping sideways. Blood spurts as I bash his fucking teeth in. He tries to scream, but I shove a hand over his mouth and punch him again, harder this time. The chair rattles with each blow.

“Say that again,” I growl, “and I’ll pull your fucking tongue out through your teeth.”

He lets out a broken sob, his body slumping forward.

“Nico.” Julian’s voice cuts in, low, calm, dangerous in its own right. “That’s enough.”

I freeze mid-swing, blood running down my knuckles.

He’s right. Not because the guy doesn’t deserve it. But because we’ve got more important things to do tonight.

I crouch down beside the bastard’s ruined face, my voice like ice.

“You’re lucky. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be dead. Understand that?”

The guy nods weakly, tears streaking his filthy cheeks.

I straighten up, wiping the blood on my shirt, then glance down with that same dead calm.

“Apologize.”

“Sorry,” the guy croaks, barely audible through swollen lips and broken teeth.

Julian doesn’t even look at him as he turns on his heel and walks out.

I follow, slamming the door behind us.

We head upstairs in silence, footsteps heavy against the concrete. One hour left. One hour until Braga dies.

Julian shrugs his jacket on, pulling it tight over his shoulders.

A pair of gloves go on next, snug around his fingers.

Then the knife—his knife—slipped into the waistband at his lower back.

Lastly, he checks the pistol I gave him, pulling the slide back with a soft click before tucking it inside his jacket.

Behind us, Luca and Enzo move just as silently. Luca adjusts the strap across his chest, his gun already loaded. Enzo rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck like he’s gearing up to break someone else’s. They both glance at Julian, but no one says a word. The unspoken’s already loud enough.

Outside, the Maserati waits for us at the curb. I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. The low growl rips through the quiet like a warning.