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Aithan

A thick, oppressive silence hangs heavy in the dimly lit soundproof basement of another of my property. Water drips steadily from the exposed pipes above, each drop hitting the concrete floor with an echo that only amplifies the tension in the air. The scent of blood lingers, metallic and sharp, mixing with the dampness of the abandoned building.

I stand at the center of the chaos, untouched. My suit is pristine, a stark contrast to the carnage surrounding me. Blood smears the floor in careless streaks, dragged by bodies that no longer breathe. The air is suffocating with fear, yet I remain composed, a steady force of control in the madness.

My eyes sweep the room, locking onto the man kneeling before me. Andreas Kolovos. The idiot owes the organization over a million dollars and had thought the best way to avoid paying was to bring it down. He’s the anonymous figure Petros had been working for. But he’s now just another fool who made the mistake of challenging me. His face is battered, blood trailing down his temple, pooling at the collar of his ruined shirt.

Leon is standing at my right, his arms crossed, with an impassive expression. Behind us, my most trusted men keep their weapons trained on the rest of Andreas’s crew. They watch in stiff silence, terror plain in their eyes. They know what’s coming.

I take a slow step forward, crouching in front of Andreas, my voice smooth, almost conversational. "Tell me, Andreas, did you really think I would let you live after what you did?"

Andreas spits blood onto the floor, his lip curling in defiance. "You’re a bastard, Vasilios," he grits out. "You think you can build your empire on extortion?" His laugh is weak, humorless. "You’re a damn fool."

I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. Just the promise of pain. "No, Andreas. The fool is the man who betrays me and thinks he can still breathe."

Before he can react, I snatch the knife from Leon’s belt and drive it into his thigh.

His scream is instant. Raw. Agonizing.

Exactly how I love my victims to howl.

I twist the blade slowly, leaning in so close he can feel my breath against his ear. "You tried to destroy me after I smuggled your consignment into the country? Because you preferred to destroy my organization instead of paying what you owe?" My voice is a low murmur, deadly in its calm. "Your greed made you blind, and now…" I yank the knife free, blood spurting over his ruined pants. "You’ll learn what it means to betray me."

Andreas gasps, his hands shaking as he clutches his leg, his body writhing in pain. His arrogance is gone now, replaced by panic. His breaths come in sharp, ragged bursts as he stares up at me, realization dawning.

"Please… please, Aithan," he chokes out. “I…”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of finishing that plea.

I stand, nodding toward Leon. Without hesitation, he steps forward, pressing the barrel of his gun against Andreas’s forehead. The room collectively stiffens, men shifting in the shadows, their fear thick enough to taste.

"Not yet," I say, voice calm, measured.

Leon steps back, waiting.

I turn to the men still standing—Andreas’s crew, the ones who watched and followed, the ones who thought this rebellion and betrayal would end any other way than with blood on the floor. My gaze sweeps across them, cold and unrelenting.

"This man thought he could sell me out. He thought he could take what I built and hand it over to my enemies," I say, my voice carrying across the warehouse. "And now I have a message for all of you."

I look back at Andreas.

"You don’t get to walk away from this."

At my nod, Leon finishes him off with a single bullet, and he slumps forward, dead. Blood spills in a thick rush from his wound as his body seizes to move. The silence that follows is deafening.

I flick the blood from the knife before handing it back to Leon, my fingers steady, my pulse even.

Then I turn to the remaining men.

"If anyone else feels like testing me," I say, my tone disturbingly casual, "speak now. I promise you, the next death will be much slower."

No one moves. No one even dares to breathe.

Good.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and stride out of the warehouse, Leon falling into step beside me. I don’t look back. There’s no need.

The message is clear—cross me, and you die. And the men whose life I have just spared will surely spread that message.