Redemption (boyxboy) (18+)

Chapter Seventeen

Christine goes first, her questions direct and specific but non-confrontational; Nate is able to answer them without having to dredge up any of his more horrendous personal moments. He soon falls into the rhythm of the back-and-forth, following Christine's instructions to be clear, focused, and honest. He finds that he actually likes it; there's something cathartic in getting it all on the record - the organization's hierarchy and sources of income, their brutal and bloody methods for dealing with the competition and undependable employees.

It goes on for hours upon hours, interrupted only for bathroom and food breaks, or the dozens of times that Karl pipes up with myriad objections. It seems stupid to Nate, objecting when there's no judge there to rule, but Christine had told him that this would happen.

And then it's time for cross-examination.

"How many people have you killed, Mr. Angelev?"

Nate's teeth clench; Christine throws her pen down. "Objection. Relevance?"

Karl smiles that weaselly grin he has, spreads his hands in a show of apparent innocence. "I'm just trying to establish the character of the witness. Now, Mr. Angelev-" and Nathaniel hates how he keeps emphasizing his last name "-how many people have you killed?"

Nate looks at Christine, who nods. He has to answer.

The room suddenly seems so quiet. Nate can hear his own breath, the squeak of the leather when he shifts in his chair. He hears Reid sigh behind him and his pulse jumps even higher, but Nate can't think about Reid hearing what he's about to say.

He's unsure he'll even be able to look him in the eye after this.

"I've lost count."

Karl leans back in his chair and twirls his pen between his fingers. "Well, let's see if we can't jog your memory. Why don't you tell me about your most recent murder? How long, exactly, has it been since you killed someone?"

Nate takes a deep breath even though he doesn't need it to speak. And then he starts typing, quickly and decisively, despite believing that he is burning the last vestiges of his world down with every word.

"It was the night I turned myself in. I was in Kansas overseeing a large delivery to our distributors - making sure the product was quality and picking up our cut of the cash. It was a large sum, and we hadn't done business with these particular individuals before, so I wanted to ensure that everything was as it should be."

"And by 'distributors,' you mean drug dealers."

"Yes."

"Just wanted to clear that up. Continue, please."

Nate's jaw is clenched so hard it aches, but he doesn't allow himself to hesitate. "It was poor quality and the money was short, so there was a confrontation. It ended with the dealer losing both his thumbs as the standard punishment for doing bad business with a member of my family."

"I didn't ask about the last time you dismembered someone. I asked about murder."

"I'm getting there. My cousin and assistant, Samuel, who I considered a close friend and confidant, always traveled with me. After we concluded our business, we cleaned up and went out for a late drink, over which I confessed that the methods of the Angelev business were beginning to weigh on me. I told him that I was planning on quitting, maybe opening up a bar like his brother had and passing the family's reins over to my sister, Elsa."

Nate flexes his fingers; he can see the next part playing out before him in vivid color - the angry red flush spreading like fire over the white pallor of Samuel's face, the black of his hair rising above it like thick smoke. "He changed immediately; my friend - my cousin - was gone. He was sneering, condescending... he told me that could never happen, that he had been tasked by my father to kill me if I couldn't handle the pressure. 'You know too much,' Samuel said. 'He gave you the business because you're the smartest of the bunch, but he was concerned that you wouldn't have the balls to handle it.' He pulled out a phone to call my father and a knife that he held at my ribs as he escorted me outside."

By this part of the story, Nate's chewing on his lip hard enough to make it bleed; he doesn't even notice. "I couldn't let that call go through. But I also couldn't continue working for a father that recruited the person closest to me in the world to kill me if I ever fell out of line. So I knocked the phone out of his hand and tried to run. Samuel caught me, we fought over the knife, and I won. I stabbed him in the chest in a filthy alley behind a bar in Kansas City, and I watched the light leave his eyes before tossing his body in a Dumpster and going straight to the Marshals' field office."

Nate swallows back the bile creeping up his throat, forces himself to look up at Karl as the electronic voice trails off. He's certain that he has already destroyed all respect Reid might have had for him, so he may as well show this bastard just who he's dealing with.

Nathaniel lets his eyes go flat and terrifying when he continues, his face solid as stone.

"So you want to know how many people I've killed? At least a dozen, probably more. And that's low for a member of my family." Nate won't let himself look down at his pale fingers flying over the phone's screen, but he feels like he can still see the bright red staining them, like they'll never truly washed clean. "My kills were mostly due to dealing with internal problems. Snitches, employees who displeased us, that sort of thing."

And then he smiles, small and wicked.

"My specialty was in dispatching our lawyers. The ones who knew too much."

Karl blinks and shudders, quick and involuntary. He has to clear his throat and look away from Nathaniel's gaze for a long moment. Nate counts it as a victory.

*******

The deposition continues like this for another hour and a half, Karl's questions forcing Nathaniel to describe all the horrible things he's done, the extortion and drugs and murder. He's trying to break Nate, to make him seem so reprehensible that no one will believe a word he says.

But what he doesn't understand is that Nate already hates himself and the things he's done. Making him go over the ugly details may make him break down later, collapse him under the crushing weight of guilt when he's alone, but that won't happen now. He won't let Reid down like that, and he won't give Karl - and, by extension, his family - the satisfaction.

Christine's re-direct brings home the point that the rest of the Angelevs are worse, that Nathaniel suffered unimaginable abuse at their hands and has come here to make amends.

He just hopes that's enough to make a jury listen to him.