Chapter 12: Chapter 11

" You have a beautiful house," I said, trying to make conversation.

He shrugged, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.

" I know."

I rolled my eyes as I walked beside him.

" Humility died the day you were born, huh? I don’t know... you could just say thank you like a normal person would."

The corner of his mouth curved slightly, almost like a smile—but one of those that seemed to mock the world. Of course he found it amusing.

Before he could reply, his phone buzzed. Dominic slipped his hand into the pocket of his tailored trousers and answered, stepping a little away from me.

" Pronto," he said, and then... started speaking in Italian.

I stopped walking immediately.

I stood there, in the middle of the hallway, staring at his back with my mouth slightly open. His voice was low, deep, but the words flowed so naturally it was as if he had been born in Rome. The language rolled off his tongue with absurd elegance.

He speaks... Italian?

With every word that left his lips, my mind drifted further. It was like discovering a new layer of that man—and honestly, it made me more nervous than I wanted to admit.

What else was he hiding behind that perfectly cut suit and those iron-hard eyes?

I tilted my head, watching his gestures as he spoke, his brow slightly furrowed as if the call demanded focus. I sighed. Too loudly. He turned his head slightly and shot me a glance over his shoulder, as if to say wait just one more second.

I looked away, pretending to examine a painting on the wall like some sort of art critic.

As soon as he ended the call, Dominic walked back toward me, tucking his phone into the inner pocket of his jacket.

" I have something to take care of," he said in a low voice. " So have dinner and rest. Understood?"

I nodded slowly, a bit surprised by the gentle tone. " Yes."

He tilted his head slightly, satisfied with the answer.

" Good."

He started down the stairs.

I stayed there at the top, watching his back disappear step by step. He didn’t look back as he opened the front door and left with the same calm composure.

I brought a hand to my face and gave my own cheek a light slap.

" It’s fine... just another normal Wednesday," I muttered to myself.

\[...\]

The car stopped with a slight jolt in front of an abandoned warehouse. I knew that place well — it was my contact point when things went off the rails. And as much as I preferred to keep my life clean, sometimes getting my hands dirty was inevitable.

I stepped out of the car, adjusting the single button on my jacket. The night air was cold, thick with the smell of rust and dust. I inhaled slowly, filling my lungs with that damp, decaying air before heading to the entrance. I pushed the iron door, which creaked loudly, echoing through the emptiness of the warehouse, announcing my arrival.

Inside, the darkness was broken only by a weak light hanging in the center of the room. The lamp swayed slightly, casting distorted shadows across the concrete walls. Beneath it, two men knelt, handcuffed, their faces smeared with blood and dirt. I recognized both.

The smell of mold grew stronger with each step I took. My eyes found Matheo and Salvatori ahead, guns in hand, faces serious. Cardboard boxes were piled haphazardly in the back, and there was a single chair placed right in front of the men.

Without a word, I took a white handkerchief from my jacket pocket — fine Italian silk — shook it gently, and laid it over the dusty seat of the chair. Then I sat down, crossing one leg over the other.

Leaning forward slightly, elbows on my knees, I interlaced my fingers.

" Let’s get this over with," I began, voice low, calm, as if I were just in a meeting.

" I wanted to be home... with good pasta, a decent red wine, and silence."

I lifted my eyes slowly toward Matheo and Salvatori, the weak light highlighting my cold stare.

" But here I am. Babysitting." I leaned back in the chair. " So tell me... why didn’t you handle this? Hm?" I raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dripping from my voice. " A simple job. Two worms. Handcuffed. You needed me for that?"

Matheo looked away for a moment. Salvatori pressed his lips together, visibly uncomfortable.

" Speak," I finished, eyes returning to the two kneeling on the floor. " Before I waste my precious time on people who don’t even deserve to breathe."

" Mr. Moretti… they lost the shipment," Matheo began hesitantly. " We thought that—"

I raised just one finger.

Silence. Immediate. Matheo shut his mouth, his eyes flickering before dropping to the ground.

" You called me here because these idiots can’t do their jobs? That’s what you’re paid for?"

My eyes found the two of them. Salvatori looked away, and Matheo lowered his head like a shamed dog. My gaze shifted to the men kneeling before me.

" Look at me."

They hesitated, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. When they finally lifted their faces, I saw terror in their eyes. They were on the verge of collapse. Trembling. Their hands cuffed, their faces bruised. One had a swollen, purple eye; the other bled from the corner of his mouth. They were filthy.

" M-Mr. Moretti..."

" Quiet." My voice came out rough. The sound of it made one of them swallow hard, his Adam’s apple visibly sliding down his throat. " How does someone lose a shipment like that?" I continued. " Those weapons are worth more than your house. More than your pathetic existence."

" S-sir… it was just three…" one of them risked, almost in a whisper.

I arched an eyebrow, slowly crossing my arms.

" Just three?" I repeated, amused by the absurdity.

I tilted my head to the side, watching the man break into a cold sweat.

" Maybe I should balance the scales. Three guns for three fingers, how about that?" I smiled faintly, without humor. " Or maybe... both arms? Wouldn’t make much difference. Don’t see much use for them anyway."

" P-please… I have a family," he stammered, his voice breaking into sobs. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his filthy face, mixing with dried blood.

" Now choose: two arms or three fingers?"