Bloodbath of the Fallen Crown

4

Was dir gehört, gehört auch mir. Was mir gehört, gehört nicht dir. Hör jetzt auf oder stirb später.

A threat. No, a warning.

A folder with a note and three pictures.

One picture labeled einer was Slamet, one of the men we sent to the Emirates from Indonesia. Throat slit, no eyeballs. A note. Was dir gehört, gehört auch mir.

The second picture was Iman, the second man we sent. Throat slit, hands cut off clean. A note. Was mir gehört, gehört nicht dir.

The last picture, their missing body parts laying next to them. A note. Hör jetzt auf oder stirb später.

I felt my head begin to pound slowly. Each beat tipping my glass a little more. "How did this happen?"

All heads turned to me as I spoke to Diego. He looked caught off guard, scared. Normally I'd hate it if they looked scared of me, but right now I didn't care.

"I don't know." He hung his head low.

I took a long, deep breath. "Find me someone who does."

He left immediately, not even bothering to close the door.

"This is German," Mateo said. "What's yours is mine. What's mine is not yours. Stop now or die later."

"They're trying to intimidate us," Gabriel concluded. "They want us to not fight back."

What's yours is mine. What's mine is not yours. This sounded oddly familiar.

"Boss?" A head popped in.

"Come in."

The woman came in. She was tall and had striking blue hair. I've seen her around here, but never really bothered to learn her name. "I was the one who found out about the deaths of the men."

"How?"

She took a deep breath, "I was in contact with Slamet. He updated me every hour about his findings. When he missed two updates in a row, I got worried. I asked him what was wrong, but he never answered. Then one of the men called to say this package was delivered to your apartment, I didn't think--"

"My apartment?" The shock in my voice couldn't be masked.

No one apart from a few guards and the family knew where my apartment was. Shit.

"Y-Yes," she looked nervous. "I didn't want to open it, so I put it beside my desk to wait for when you got out of the meeting. Except one of the guards passed by and took it from me, saying that no one should be delivering packages to your house."

Obviously, since no one knows where it is. I don't even order things online. We have a separate address for things like that. My apartment is completely unknown to almost everyone.

"Was it Sicilian mail?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure."

I narrowed my eyes, "what do you mean you're pretty sure. Was it, or not?"

She swallowed hard, "I-I don't remember."

"You should know things like these. You weren't hired for your pretty face. Get me the guard who picked it up."