Song: Chase Atlantic - Phases (slowed + reverb)
Since it was so highly requested, I decided to include a bit of Nico's pov.
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Nico
I wasn't impulsive, I didn't have a short temper and I most certainly didn't do anger.
I didn't have time for such extreme emotions and quite frankly, no one was important enough to make me truly angry.
That's not to say that I didn't get pissed, annoyed or even almost angry at times, though.
You see, I liked my shit in order.
Clean, organized and in line. I was an avid planner, always calculating my next move and all the ones leading up to it.
So when my supply chain of premium grade coke wasn't so fucking premium, I knew I was being ripped off.
And when I was informed that my numbers weren't adding up, I knew I had a rat problem.
An incompetent supplier that couldn't be reached and a snitch that I had to waste my time on.
Yeah, that called for a pretty fucking shitty day.
Worst part was, my snitch downed a bottle worth of horse tranquilizers and died before I could actually have any fun.
He killed himself out of fear and I was left to deal with the cleanup.
Another plan of mine ruined.
But, inconveniences like this were avoidable-for me at least. I didn't fucking build an empire just to deal with shit like this.
Why should I waste my time, when I had people on my payroll that could do all the dirty work for me?
That could have been the case had I been able to reach my handyman.
But instead, I had to drag Sammy's prissy ass with me only to find out the dumbass grew queasy with extreme blood and gore.
It was a disaster and I'll admit while I was usually an easygoing guy, I found myself growing frustrated.
But, I let it go. Not because I had to, but because my handyman - Spencer was that fucking good at his job.
Maybe he was dealing with another problem of mine-one I didn't even know about, because that's how throughout he was with his work.
If I had one of those shitty little cork boards and an actual office, I'd slap his picture up for employee of the month every fucking month. So, if he couldn't be reached, it had to have been for a good reason.
So you could only imagine my surprise when I returned home to find said handyman sitting in my kitchen, eating my fucking food, and making my little deer blush.
Yet I still didn't let myself get angry.
He was getting somewhere with Bambi. She liked him - a little too much, but it was enough to trust him.
What wasn't a part of the plan, though, was the way he kept sneaking glances back at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room.
Jesus, they were like a couple of awkward pre-teens nervous about playing spin the bottle for the first time.
It was nauseating.
But once again, I didn't let myself get angry.
Why did I care about how he felt towards Bambi? As long as he was getting me what I wanted, I didn't give a fuck.
All I wanted was some sort of valuable information on her. Something that would help me deem her worth. If she couldn't be of use to me, I'd get rid of her.
But then, Spencer went and crossed the line.
He'd given Bambi her first real taste of alcohol, even going as far as getting her drunk. And that's where I couldn't find it in me to be so... easygoing.
She was mine to taint, not his.
I lean farther back into the wall, fiddling with the blade in my hand as I stare forward. "Again." I command.
Sammy looks at me over his shoulder, his face reluctant and I roll my eyes. "I don't need a queasy little bitch working for me."
It was times like this where I found myself dwelling on the past. Sammy may have been smart and quick on his feet but he wasn't Danny.
Danny was good at getting his hands dirty. He understood me and knew what I wanted. Sammy, however, needed a lot of work.
Spencer braces himself for another hit and when Sammy throws it, I watch as Spencer's head veers back, more blood trickling out of his nose.
I was killing two birds with one stone. Teaching both of them a lesson.
Teaching Sammy not be such a little bitch when it came to blood and teaching Spencer not to play with what belonged to me.
"Again." I spit, recalling the events of yesterday. Bambi wasn't drunk per-say but she was tipsy enough and worst of all she didn't even know it.
Sammy throws another punch and I watch, relishing in the wave of satisfaction that washes over me. For a moment, I consider switching places with Sammy, but I stopped the thoughts. I didn't get my hands dirty.
It was below me. I didn't do my own dirty work.
But I still found myself fighting the urge to gouge his eyes out with my bare hands.
Okay, so maybe I was a little angry. Sue me.
It wasn't that I minded Bambi being drunk. I actually found it quite entertaining when she'd snap back.
But I didn't like how things took such an unexpectedly godawful turn last night.
I was beyond disgusted with myself.
Not only did I catch myself somewhat enjoying the banter. But I even went as far as thinking she looked.... adorable.
I, Nico Rosso Blaine for the first time in my life used the word adorable to describe someone. And no, it wasn't sarcastic or satirical.
The word just crossed my mind out of fucking no where.
But that wasn't the worst of it. No, I just had to go and do something I never did.
Disregard my original plan.
My original plan to sneak into her room at night to catch her mumbling and see what I could dig up from her. Just like I'd been doing the past few nights.
What wasn't apart of the original plan, however, was inviting her into my bed.
My fucking bed, where she spent the entire night mumbling, only for it to be muffled by the skin of my own neck.
But the story gets so much worse.
I fucking let it happen.
I didn't push her away, not when her breathing evened out and her body pushed further into mine.
I laid there, tense as can be, gripping onto her wrists, refusing to let go.
Her proximity was suffocating, uncomfortable even, yet I somehow fell asleep finding something close to tolerance with the warmth of her body pressed to mine.
To sum it up, I fell asleep knowing that I was somewhat, willingly cuddling.
Cuddling.
I tried to understand it. Tried to blame it on anything but the fact that I might have even... wanted it. But there was no denying the facts.
I had spent my night cuddling.
I didn't have any experience with mushy shit like that. I hated it. All I could compare it to was the little glimpse of vulnerability I got in my rather emotion-free life.
It was the vulnerability that sparked in a woman's eyes after having sex. It happened so often that I came up with a term for it.
Puppy shit.
I'd never stayed long enough to explore that delicate vulnerability even the worst of women had, but I recognized it in every one of their eyes after I fucked them.
It was the need to be held, comforted.
It was sickening.
Jesus, I hadn't even fucked her yet there I was, clinging onto her with the worst case of puppy shit I'd ever had in my entire life.
And it wasn't until I woke up, holding her body to mine that I realized I was going soft.
And that's all it took for me to get up, detangle myself from her and leave her there, beyond disgusted with myself.
I look away from the scene before me and down to my phone as it rings with an unknown number appearing across the screen.
I figured it was from one of Aberto's men.
Wes was delivering a large shipment of coke down in his territory and I knew he'd sniff out the inauthenticity of my shit in a heartbeat.
One of the repercussions of an incompetent supplier that I had yet to deal with.
"What." I bark into the phone. Although I knew I was in the wrong in this situation, I was still in a position of power. I didn't need to be pleasant.
"Erm...Good morning, Sir." The man speaks clearly, his voice void of an Italian accent and my ears perk. This didn't sound like a call from the small group of Italians that run the West side of the Bronx.
"We have a bit of an issue down here and I thought you'd like to know about it."
Josie
"I like that bag."
I smile over at Sugar. "Thanks, I like your makeup." I say, eyeing the extremely intricate array of faded purple along her eyelids.
"Thanks, hun." She sings, crossing a leg over the other before bringing a nail file to her nails and filing them down."What'd they bring you in for?"
"Oh." I straighten out my skirt. " I didn't do anything wrong."
She snorts, examining her long neon pink nails. "And I didn't jump on a feds car and flash my tits at the piece of shit." Sarcasm drips from her voice and my eyes widen but just as I'm about to respond, my name is called.
"Josie Dumont."
I bolt up and run towards the metal bars, craining my head to try and get a peek down the hall as the police officer walks towards me.
"You're being released, come with me." He mumbles as the metal doors open. I follow him out, frowning when I notice that's he's taking me back towards the front desk.
"But, Sir, I'm here to report a crime not be released for committing one." I grit out, slightly agitated with him.
I didn't wait four hours in a cell just to be told to leave.
I was here to provide valuable information. Yet it seemed even the police officers didn't want to hear about how I knew who assassinated the Governor of New York.
He ignores me, thrusting a clipboard into my hand and handing me a pen. "Sign here and here."
I stare at the man incredulously, trying to make sense of this.
One minute the words Nico Blaine are leaving my lips and the next I'm being thrown into a holding cell and told to wait.
I hand the clipboard back to the police officer, my gaze naturally trailing over the officer's shoulder and when I catch sight of the tall figure leaned up against the wall, everything stops.
No.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
I was supposed to turn him in. He was supposed to be taken to jail. And I was supposed to get rid of him for good.
My heart drops to my feet, betrayal burning straight through the over-exerted organ.
"You called him?" I ask, staring at the man in complete horror. I trusted this man to keep me safe, but he went and called the one thing that was putting me in danger.
"He's gonna kill me for this." I breathe, but the man only grabs my forearm and drags me towards Nico.
I plant my feet on the ground, trying to stop him but he's too strong and all I can do is take the opportunity to run when he nudges me toward Nico.
Only a firm grip lands on the back of my neck and the next thing I know, I'm being yanked towards the man who smells of cologne, smoke and fresh blood.
"Big fucking mistake, Bambi." His dark voice seethes in my ear as he harshly guides my body out through the doors of the precinct on the corner of 67th street.
I swallow hard, finally gathering the strength to breathe only for it to completely vanish when I realize he's guiding me towards his car. The vintage old beat up one that I now knew he only used for his dirty work.
Big fucking mistake indeed.
This was it. This was the end for me. And unless I found a way to escape, Nico was going to kill me.
The people on the sidewalk part ways, walking around us and my eyes catch sight of a small alley across the street.
I contemplate running through there, but his hand on the nape of my neck slips up into my hair and he fists it, yanking my head back so I'm forced to stare up at him as he continues to guid us down the street towards his car.
"Try it." He seethes lowly, dipping his head to bring his face closer to mine as he stares-no glares ahead. "I fucking dare you."
I'm used to his threats but what I'n not used to is the sight of pure, unfiltered emotion slipping through his unbothered mask.
He's angry. Pissed off as they called it.
The anger dripping from him tells me what I didn't want to believe.
I'd just pushed the devils buttons and there was no running, all I could do was surrender and hope I made it out alive.
. . .
It was strange to see someone so cold and closed off show an ounce of emotion.
Body language was the most common indicator of emotions, yet with people like Nico, who had mastered the art of indifference, all you could rely on for any ounce of insight were the little ticks that gave it away.
We'd been driving for a while, and in that time I'd tried to identify said ticks.
Nico didn't show his anger. It was silent, deadly and most importantly, he retracted into an imaginary shell.
While many people had a sour face, a subtle scowl or even a clenched jaw to signify anger or irritation, his body didn't naturally give way to those tells.
Other than the subtle flexing of his right hand every so often, he had no ticks.
I had watched it for a long while. Examining the way his veins peeked and his knuckles contracted beneath all the tattoos. Every so often his long fingers would curl, and his nails would dig into the gear shift between us, before relaxing completely.
It was a subconscious act and had he not pulled out a black blade and started fiddling with it instead, I would have thought he wasn't aware of it.
He twirls the terrifying blade in his hand with extreme ease and skill while using his other hand to steer and I grow antsy.
He still hadn't said a word. Hadn't yell or even looked at me yet.
But his eyes were ablaze, more so than usual.
I didn't know where he was taking me but I knew it wasn't to the penthouse. We'd been driving for well over an hour and when I glance at the clock on the dashboard, my stomach grumbles.
I'd gone to the police station first thing in the morning, and they'd kept me there for over four hours, without a pee or snack break.
I couldn't tell what was worse, the pressure building up in my bladder or the grumbling of my stomach.
Shifting uncomfortably, I turn my head to look out the window. I may have also skipped breakfast and considering it was half past three, l only had a few more hours before my eating window closed.
I didn't know why I still stuck to the diet Marie had pushed onto me, I suppose I just couldn't break the habit.
The diet started when my nickname-Grams had reached the ears of the women Marie ran school council with. When she realized that it was short for Grams of fat she'd prohibited me from eating past six pm, saying she couldn't have me being the laughing stock of The Colony.
I was always an accessory to her precious image.
The car jerks and I bury my hands under my thighs not having anything to hold onto. I hated this car, there were no seatbelts and Nico drove like a maniac. If I had anything in my stomach I'd hurl it all up with the way he was steering.
He turns a corner, onto a relatively empty street and I look around wearily at the sight of cracked concrete, broken widows on parked cars but most importantly, the number of dark unsettling allies.
We're a long way from our side of the city and when Nico pulls into one of these dark allies, my skin crawls when I realize there are people hanging around in them. None of them looking all too friendly.
Nico doesn't seem fazed, though. He abruptly pulls to a stop at an abandoned looking warehouse and doesn't waste any time as he gets out and strides towards the building without sparing me a glance.
It's the perfect opportunity to run. But one glance behind me at the people in the alley eyeing me like a golden ticket, forces me to scurry out and after Nico.
Maybe I'm making a mistake I'm assuming that he's the lesser of two evils, but I was already as good as dead.
I follow after him, keeping my eyes trained on his broad back and when his confident strides don't falter, I'm forced to quicken my place to keep up to him. I clear my throat, "Um... I need to pee."
He walks through the doors and I scurry in behind him. "Hold it." Is all he says, his tone cold and detached.
I don't allow myself to react. I expected as much. Instead, I glance around us at the dark dingy looking makeshift restaurant.
Had there not been men sitting at tables, booths and along the bar, smoking and playing card games, I'd have thought this place was abandoned.
The tables were old, the people sitting at them even older and I figured the pungent smell of smoke, sweat and mold was due to the lack of ventilation.
Nico's steps echo throughout the room and a few people glance up. One man with greasy black hair, wearing a pin striped suit narrows his eyes and I briefly wonder why he looked so familiar.
But before I can dwell on it, Nico walks past them and towards the back where a small crowd of men have gathered.
Murmurs break out around me, but all I can make out is that their speaking in a language I can't understand. I suppose it's Italian.
It isn't until I follow after Nico who has everyone parting like the Red Sea for him, that I hear the sound of voices in English.
His broad frame is blocking my view of whats happening in front of him but I make out the just of what's happening simply by the grunting and yelling.
"You step foot into my territory and try to make a fool out of me by trying to sell me fake shit?" I hear a voice boom before another thud sounds, followed by a grunt.
Why would Nico bring me here?
"I told you..." I hear from over Nicos shoulder. "You're gonna have to take it up with my boss."
I blink at the familiar sounding voice and move to side step Nico but no one's making room for me.
A scoff sounds. "How the fuck am I supposed to do that when the fucker hasn't even shown his face?" The man speaks with a thick accent before he elicits a pained groan from his victim. "Unless you're trying to pull one over on me."
"I'm not. I'm just doing my job." The other man grunts and then my heart stops and my blood runs cold. That voice.
Wes.
I push between Nico and the man next to him, earning a curse from the ladder but I'm too busy scanning the scene before me to care.
Wes' mass of curly blonde hair fills my vision and a gasp escapes my lips. Two large men are holding him up while the older man speaking uses his body as a personal punching bag.
I act on impulse, making a move to run forward but a hand wraps itself around my waist and I'm tugged back into Nico's hard chest.
"What are you doing?" I plead, panic seeping into my voice at the prospect of whats going to happen if no one stops this. "You needs to stop them." I say desperately, trying to break free but he merely tightens his hold, almost cutting off my circulation.
He chuckles darkly in my ear, but his voice is so dark and angry that a chill runs down my spine."I don't need to do shit. And I sure as fuck won't list to a little fucking snitch."
I stop thrashing, forced to still in place when his arms tighten painfully around me and I suddenly know where this is headed.
My punishment.
I look down to the dirty concrete floor, Nicos large feet on either side of mine, caging and trapping them in place.
He had the power to do anything. And I didn't think he'd be opposed to forcing me to stand here and witness someone I cared about get hurt.
"Please don't." I plead, dropping my head.
"Should have fucking thought about that before you ran your mouth." He grits into my ear calmly, his hand fisting the material of my shirt. His free hand snakes around and he grips my chin, forceful tilting it up and forward.
My lower lip wobbles as I watch Wes. His fake is pale, his eyes are droopy and there's blood seeping from his nose. "I won't do it again." I get out, trying to move forward. "Please, I've learned my lesson. He's taken enough of a beating."
He merely scoffs in my ear, "You think I'm gonna let you off that easily?" He chuckles, the malice in his tone causing my back to straighten. "Besides, Wes isn't just gonna get a precious little beating." His lips tilt, finding the skin on the shell of my ear. "You remember what I told you about liars?"
A familiar scene runs through my head. The night of that fight where he made me watch a man get beaten to dead.
A man who had been lying to him.
The warning had slipped my mind. And something told me that Nico had the authority to stop this, but he wouldn't.
"Wes didn't do anything wrong." I try as tears well in my eyes.
"You're right." He hums, his voice calm but there's still an edge to it, "But you did."
A tear runs down my cheek and I attempt to fight his hold one last time even though I know it's futile. "Let me switch places with him." I demand, willing my voice to sound even.
I was terrified but I'd do it. He merely chuckles sardonically. "You think I'm gonna let you slip away that easily?"
Easily?
Getting beaten to death was hardly an easy punishment.
I feel Nico shake his head and he exhales a dry chuckle through his nose. "You know, I was on my way over here to pull him out of this shit but then I received a call about about a doe eyed snitch. I'm not all too happy about that."
My hands start to shake at the sound of his voice.
"No." I breathe in horror as anger, regret and despair wash over me.
He ignores me, continuing to speak in that low tone. "So instead, you're gonna stand here and think about how this all could have been avoided had you not ran your little mouth. And when he's lying in a pool of his own blood, you can bear the guilt."
Another tear falls down my cheek and I try to shake my head but he's holding my face forward, forcing me to watch.
Wes takes another hard punch to his stomach and I whimper at the sight before yanking my face out of Nico's hold and managing to turn my body around so my front is flush against his.
I grip onto his dress shirt and stare up at him not bothering to wipe away the tears flowing down my cheeks or the pure terror and desperation on my face.
"Please, Nico." I whisper, tipping my face to look up at him, my body limp in his hold and my eyes glossy.
He blinks, somewhat taken aback by the sudden move but his hard face doesn't waver. "Stop it. I-I'll give you whatever you want." I whisper, my eyes pleading with his.
He stares down at me for a a beat before moving down to stare at my hands fisting the material of his dress shirt, his gaze remaining calm yet somewhat contemplative.
It isn't until he looks away with a tight jaw that he answers. "You're loyalty." He finally speaks, his eyes flickering back to mine.
I stare into his pale grey eyes trying to read into the deceitful determination I can see but I can't think straight.
My loyalty?
Why would he want my loyalty when I could have easily given him anything else? Like the answers he so desperately wanted.
My gut swirls, perhaps telling me how horrible of an idea it was to accept. But I couldn't think straight, not when the sound of fist meeting flesh was so loud.
I cringe at the sound of Wes' pained groan and I find myself giving in. "Okay."
Nico grabs my chin and tilts my face up to his. "I want your word." He murmurs his eyes flickering across my face. "Me over everything."
"I promise." I swallow, a thick fog settling behind my eyes as I stare into his. I was making a mistake. "Its you over everything."
In a flash the satisfaction is wiped clean off his face and he he lets go, side stepping me and moving into the spotlight.
It all happens in a blur. I don't pay attention to what Nico says to the man that make him and his goons drop Wes, but I do slip between the crowd and pull Wes out of it and towards one of the booths.
"You shouldn't be here." He grunts, allowing me to help him into the booth.
"Neither should you." I say, turning around to slip behind the bar. I grab a wash cloth and scoop some ice into it, before slipping out and moving back towards Wes.
"You could have died." I reply, handing him the ice and a few tissues before taking the seat across from him.
"You'd be surprised how many beat downs I've taken in my lifetime." He offers, shifting uncomfortably, holding the ice to the side of his ribs, while wiping the blood from his nose. "This wouldn't have killed me."
If Nico hadn't stepped in, it would have certainly killed him.
And it would have been my fault.
Guilt eats away at my insides but Wes' voice distracts me."Kai's gone." My face drops and Wes blinks at me a few times before shaking his head. "Not like that. He went after Danny."
My ears perk up. "You've heard from Daniel?" Hope laces my voice and I lean forward as Wes shakes his head.
"No. But Kai has nothing keeping him here without him." He mumbles, stretching out his neck. I try to ignore how casually he's treating his situation, but I can't help but watch the way in which he stretches, like he's used to being beaten like this.
"I don't understand... Why would Kai need Daniel so much?" I murmur, looking up at Wes. "I thought you were Daniels best friend?"
Wes shifts uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. "Erm... yeah that's not a conversation I'm supposed to have with you."
I'm about to ask him to clarify but I catch sight of movement over Wes' shoulder and I look behind him to see Nico's large figure walking towards us with the older man who had been beating Wes a moment ago.
They take a seat at the next booth over. The man taking a seat with his back to Wes' and Nico sitting across from him, his eyes finding mine as he speaks to the man in Italian.
And since I can clearly overhear their conversation, I'm guessing Nico can hear ours. It's like Wes realizes this too because his back straightens and he changes the subject.
"Anyways, I'd been meaning to talk to you. You're old room is still being rented out but you can have Kai's room."
I look back to Wes, the prospect of moving out of Nico's penthouse making my heart leap out of my chest. "Really?" I breathe, hopefully.
"Yeah, Spenc won't mind." He mumbles and I smile, prepared to accept his offer but my gaze slides back over his shoulder and I pause.
Nicos got his head tilted, his hand fiddling with the blade as the man talks to him, but he's looking at me expectantly.
Realization has my face crumbling.
Loyalty.
He knew this was coming and ensuring my loyalty meant that I wouldn't leave, not without paying a serious price.
I look back to Wes and my heart squeezes. "No thank you." His brows furrow in confusion and I continue. "I-I like living with Nico." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I swallow it down. "He takes care of me."
Wes looks at me like I'm crazy. "Is this some kind of fucked up case of Stockholm Syndrome?" And then he leans in and inspects my face, "Blink twice if he's forcing you to say this."
I laugh nervously and shake my head at Wes who clearly doesn't believe me. He stands abruptly, shaking his head. "You're clearly not thinking right. Come on, let's get out of here and figure this out."
I don't look behind him at Nico, but I can feel the heat of his stare. And no matter how much I wanted to leave with Wes, I couldn't. "Wes, I'm serious. I'm going to stay with Nico." I say, hating how his face drops. "He's gonna take me... home."
And then I watch as Wes' face scrunches up in disappointment and I hate that I've somewhat hurt him.
He nods to himself, his jaw tight before he turns and walks- more so limps - out without another word.
And when he's gone, I slump back into the booth beyond overwhelmed with the predicament I'd gotten myself into.
I was only trying to protect Wes and by doing so I'd sacrificed myself.
I knew this wasn't the end of it and I didn't know how much more of this I could take.
I don't know what I was thinking going to the police, placing my trust in a system that was completely misleading, I just knew I wanted out.
I glance around the room refusing to look at Nico for I was scared he'd see the defeat in my eyes and take advantage of it.
Instead, I scan the area, my gaze landing on the same greasy haired man I spotted when we first came in here. Only now he's staring and pointing between me and Nico while whispering something to the man next to him.
Perhaps it's the defeat, hunger, or pure exhaustion eating away at me but I ignore the alarm bells and when I finally manage to recognize his face, mine falls.
He's the man Nico had body shamed the night of his poker game. The one he'd referred to as Piggy.
I cast another glance at Piggy, not bothering to pay any mind to the vengeful glint in his eyes. I didn't have the energy to deal with him right now, nor did I think he was a serious threat.
And maybe that was why the night took such a turn.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Nothing really happened in this chapter but it's in preparation for what happens next chapter.
I won't be posting next Friday bc I got three exams back to back, but I will try to post the next chapter before Friday.
Also Ik Nicos an asshole, but we're approaching the time in the story where he starts to be less of a complete dick.
:)