𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆.

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ １

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰

"Finish him off." I snapped again, leaning forwards and tapping my remaining cigar butt on the ashtray on the table infront of me.

I want information on Gabriel. Gabriel Carson.

I fucking need it.

This was the fifth one of his men we've tried to get answers out off. But they wouldn't fucking speak. Which caused them to have a pretty bullet through there skull. That fucker has been taking my men one by one thinking he did something. He thinks I'm dumb. Thats an understatement.

A firing of a gun echoes through the several hallways down the warehouse. The fifth man drops side-ways, hitting the ground with a hard thud, while my men drag him away.

"Boss, that's the fifth one so far. We only have three leftover in the back." One of my other men spoke up, pausing to look up at me after putting a few dead bodies aside.

"Bring them in. Don't leave any behind." I grumble, rubbing my temple. I lift my legs off the floor, onto the table infront of me, pausing to glance at my watch. It was eight-thirty. I had a meeting in thirty minutes. Tsk.

I advert my eyes back up to hear some heavy muffling. My men bring in three half naked men, forcing them on they're knees infront of the table. The gag still in there mouths and blindfold hanging around they're necks. I take my legs off the table setting them flat on the floor, tapping the last remaining ashes off my cigar before I spoke up.

"Speak up, or else this isn't going to end pretty for you" I warn. One of them gulps. I could see his muscles tensing at my presence. It felt fucking good.

One of them speaks up with a cracked voice, "We're not telling you any shit!" He growled out. It brings a sadistic expression on my face.

My eyes darken, grinting my teeth. "We can try this again. Nicely." I nod at my men, standing up from the leather couch. One of my men grabs him by the arm, hoisting him up a small bit before shoving him into my chest. He almost instantly falls back by the pressure. I take out a pocket-knife, grazing it over his jugular vein, down to his cock.

Without any hesitation, I stab the pocket-knife into his neck. Both of his hands instinctly grib the wound, blood pouring out like a damn waterfall, ruining my floors that the servents had cleaned just a few hours ago. I need to start paying them more.

The other fucker stares at me dead in the eye. His eyes full of fear and terror. As if he knows he's next. Before my hand reaches down to my pocket to get my silencer. His cracked voice echoes through the room.

"W-wait!" pause "Gabriel has a..club, where all his men are usually at. Please spare m-" before he could finish his sentence, I shoot him right in the middle of his eyes. I had took the silencer out while he was talking, of course he was too blind to see. Blood starts dripping down as his lifeless body falls forward, his body hitting the floor with a disturbingly loud thud.

I nod at my men to do the dirty work as make my way up the stairs creak under my heavy steps, but I don't pay them any mind as I make my way up towards massive two doors, pushing open the doors, revealing the long drive-way and  one of my cars. A Mercedes-Benz.

I light my cigar with a flick of my wrist. The taste of the Cuban cigar flows from my tongue as I open the car door and slipping into the drivers seat, twisting the keys. The engine roars alive, I settle myself into the rich leather seats of my car, feeling the soft leather envelop me like a second skin as I roll down the window, letting the smoke flow out.

A club. He couldn't come up with anything better.

I take my phone out from my pocket with my free hand, dialing Christopher's number.
After a few rings, he finally picks up.

—

"Christopher speaking." A deep voice rings through the call.

"I need you to find out all the clubs Gabriel owns."

"Good evening to you too." He says in a sarcastic tone. I could practically hear him shuffling around a few things.

I tap my cigar on the rolled down window, letting the ashes fall onto the road, "Cut the small-talk, Chris."

"And why do I have to do that?"

"Because I have a meeting in 10 minutes and-" I glance down at my watch, "-thirty-four seconds."

He let's out a scoff, "You and your work. You still owe me a gamble for th-" Before he could finish the last syllable, I press the decline button.

—