His Identity

24

|Nick's POV|

Ryver and I stand next to each other, staring down at Paulo's body. I feel like a weight's been removed from my shoulders, I feel lighter and somewhat free.

I did it, Eli. I avenged you.

The gloves feel heavy on my hands, I take them off, tossing them across the room. Ryver mirrors my action, his lips curling up in disgust, "didn't know it would go this brutal to be honest. What do we do now?"

"You're going back to Chicago."

He frowns at my answer. "Just me? What about you?"

"I have to deal with this shit," I gesture towards Paulo's ducked up Jody, "and what comes next."

"I can help."

"You've helped enough," I wave him off. I don't need him to become part of this whole drama. I can't let anything happen to him because of me. Not him. Not again. "You're free now, you don't have anyone on your ass."

"Doesn't mean I have to stop being friends with you," he sighs, "I love my life in Chicago, okay? Don't think that just because I'm free, I'll just walk away. Not gonna happen."

"Still," I press, "go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He narrows his eyes at me for a few seconds before he lets out a loud sigh. Slowly nodding his head, he speaks, "fine, I'll go. Oh and in case you've forgotten, Nat's parents anniversary thing's tomorrow. I'll be expecting you there."

"I'll be there," I assure. I want to go, I want to be distracted and that event will do just that for me. That and someone who'll be there. It's crazy how much I've been thinking about her.

Aveline. I feel like a dick for lying to her about the one thing she wanted to know but I don't know how she'll take the truth. Maybe I'm just scared that she'll look at me differently. I don't want that. Not when I've finally decided to gather my shit and become civilized with her. I've just started talking to her. It's been what, weeks? A month? I can't fuck this up now. I don't want to.

"Alright then," Ryver begins to walk towards the door, "I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he's out. I sure as hell hope that aunt Arabella isn't downstairs and if she is, I doubt she'll notice anything. Our outfits are black anyway, it makes the blood stains unnoticeable. Almost.

After having taken one last look at Paulo's disfigured body, I take out my phone and send a quick text to Alessio.

'I need your help.'

'Did you 🔪 someone again? You did, didn't you, you little fuck? I wish I could say I'm not proud right now. Send me an address, I'll take care of it.' His reply comes within a second.

My lips twitched. I don't have to tell him what I need his help for, he already knows. It's not the first time I've killed someone and texted him about it. He works quick. He sends a group of people to clear the mess, make sure that nobody questions this shit ever again.

'It's in Italy,' I text back. This time he doesn't text, instead, he calls. I see his name appearing on my screen and I answer it almost instantly. Alessio doesn't give me a second as he asks, "what the fuck did you do?"