Chapter 1 FOOL'S TRAP.

NATHANIEL BIANCHI – POINT OF VIEW

“We have tracked him down. He is in New York.” Silas tells me.

I lean into my seat, my hand on the desk, beating a way, creating a rhythm. The music from the club pounds against the wall, as well as my head. Rage coils in me, but I tamper it down calmly. Soon, I would get the perfect avenue to release my anger, but for now, I would find a way around it.

“He dares to walk into my home. Why?” I ask, confused.

Why will a hunted man come back to the place hunting him? Ezekiel Ramos is one of the many leads I have been chasing down endlessly in a bid to find the people who set my life on fire. I knew he had a direct link to the Syndicate, and I want answers. I will get my answers even if I have to pull them out of him.

“Maybe he is here to take something and dip? Do we really have time to debate on answers? He is here, so let’s get him before he is in the wind again.” Silas snaps, but I know the anger is directed at the situation and not me. We grew up together, and he knows how deep the scars run. He shares it.

“What if it’s a trap?” I point out, running my thumb over my lower lip.

“We are long past caring at this point. We have an army, so fuck any trap.” He seethes, and I nod, understanding his bloodlust.

“Do you have men on him?” I open my drawer and pull out the guns.

“Two in the cafe, four in the parking lot and three across the street, heavily armed.” He catches the pack of ammo I throw.

“Get more men. We leave in ten. I want everyone ready to shoot. We might be walking into a trap. If he tries to leave before we get there, tell them to restrain him by whatever means necessary.” I get up and load my gun.

He nods and starts to respond, but I frown because I can hear footsteps. Someone is coming. Almost immediately, there is commotion outside my door and an irritatingly familiar voice. I clench my jaw hard and glare at Silas, “What the fuck is she doing here? Handle it. I don’t have time for her antics right now.”

He sighs, hides his gun and opens the door to reveal Sabina, wearing next to nothing, with her face heavily painted.

“This is not the time, Sabina. Go home. Sleep off whatever hangover you have.” He tells her stiffly.

“Nathan, I want to –”

“Go home now.” I cut in harshly. Sabina is a leech. A very persistent one. I ignore the way her face pales.

“Come on. Peter will take you home.” Silas pulls her out, and I close the door behind them.

The music gets louder, and my lungs constrict painfully. Familiar demons begin to claw their way through me. I grit my jaw, trying to shake them off, but the ascent continues. Their claws dig into my neck, and my breath catches. I lean against my desk and try to catch my breath, but it is hard, because there is no air –

“We are ready.”

The door opens, and Silas walks in, heavily armed and wearing a bulletproof vest.

Air floods my lungs, and my chest expands painfully. I fiddle with my stack of rings, breathing slowly, calming myself. Then, I strap my gun to my hip and walk out of the office. The club is full of life, but all I think about is the money. We use the back door, and I breathe in cold air.

I get in my car and drive. My hands clench against the steering wheel. Silas is in the car ahead of me, and the car behind me is full of my soldiers. In less than ten minutes, I pulled into the restaurant parking lot, where some of my men were.

“All cleared. He is the only one in there. He tried to leave, but we held him down.” One of them says, and I nod, walking towards the door.

I find Ramos on his knees. His face is bloody, and his eyes are wide with fear, which gets wider when he sees me. He knows who I am. My reputation precedes me.

“I have no time to waste. You know why I’m here. You have information I need. So, tell me what I need to know.” I speak calmly, leaning against the seat beside him.

“I … I don’t know. I … please, please.” He starts to beg, and I sigh deeply. I hate when they beg.

Short on patience, I pull out my gun and attach the sniper to it. Then, I grab his chin and press it to his temple. I want to kill, but I need to know. I need to know who killed my parents, who killed my Mother. I need to know.

“I can make it hurt, Ramos. I can take my time breaking every single bone in your body. I can and I will. I will not kill you, not now. Instead, I’ll take you back home, and you know what they say about people who make it to my home? They don’t make it out alive.” I lean forward, the gun digging into his flesh.

His eyes welled up with tears. “They will kill me, please, they will kill me.”

“What do you think I’ll do to you?” I smile widely.

He gulps in fear and whispers, “They … all I know is that they are called The Syndicate and every time we meet, they reach out … they reached out to me. They find you, you don’t find them. They’re very powerful. They are connected.”

I tap the gun against his temple, my jaw clenched.

“Let’s take him,” Silas says.

And that is all it takes. Ramos panics, reaching for a weapon. He doesn’t get far because my gun goes off, blowing his brain out. He drops to the ground, hard and fast, and then, I hear footsteps. A second later, someone strolls out of the kitchen, wearing an apron, headphones and completely oblivious to the blood drying on the floor.