A World Ruled by Men
EDWARD POV
"No one need think that the world can be ruled without blood. The civil sword shall and must be red and bloody." - Andrew Jackson
Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilight related.
Ave Maria Gratia plena
Maria Gratia plena
Maria Gratia plena
Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in mulieribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tui Jesus
Ave Maria
I tuned out the first verse of Franz Schubert's Ave Maria because to tell you the truth, I hated this fucking song. I had sung it every Sunday for twenty-five motherfucking years but a Cullen never missed church.
I sat in the front pew of Holy Name Cathedral, formally the Cathedral of the Holy Name. It's the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago, one of the largest Roman Catholic dioceses in the United States. It's also the parish church of the Archbishop of Chicago. I know that all sounds like religious mumbo jumbo but I was required to know it, being the "devout Catholic" that I was.
Total bullshit, if you ask me.
The whole church was a huge Gothic monstrosity, consisting of sparkling marble, strong granite, towering steeples and large stain glass windows. Among the sprawling high-rises of downtown Chicago, the church looked like a misplaced antique house, trying to compete against modernity.
To my left, were my parents Carlisle and Esme. I studied their regal statures and how they seemed to radiate joy. My father was on the verge of fifty but could pass for my age easily. With his short, golden blonde hair and piecing blue eyes along with his structured face and the body of an athlete, he could model for almost any suit company, making millions. My mother, with her honey colored locks and dark green eyes was the picture of perfection. Together, they were the best looking couple in church and everyone envied them.
Just by his outside appearance, you would never guess that my father was the hardest motherfucker on the planet.
He was head of all Italian organized crime activity in Chicago and half of the country for that matter. Everyone was afraid of him. No matter who you were or what family you were from, the name 'Cullen' was synonymous with ruthlessness even though on the outside, we looked like the perfect blue-blooded American family.
In order to fully understand the dynamic of our group, you had to go way back.
According to the story, Great Grandpa Nicola Rossini stepped off of the boat in 1916. He was six and alone but he made it. I don't know how he got on that ship without the proper papers or documentation and he never told me the whole tale but I had a feeling that he had been doing illegal things all of his life. Stowing away on a boat heading for America was just another walk in the park for that badass. He was pushing one hundred now but still kicking, probably having the time of his life with some hot stewardess in France.
The second he stepped off the boat at Ellis Island, it was a fucking blood bath.
He had no money, no family, and no damn clue what he was doing, but he was smart. He lived the streets for about a year and from his stories, got whatever he wanted just by giving his "scary eye", which he had mastered before he was five. No one else could pull it off quite like him but once you got the look, you knew you were in for a world of hurt. I had only gotten it once and my ass still hurt from the butt kicking he gave me, but I digress.
He was a motherfucking beast and still was.
One day, when he was seven I think, he was caught stealing from the most ruthless street boss in Brooklyn, Edward Cullen, who I just happened to be named after. Edward Sr., as he was called, threatened to cut off Nicola's hand, as per mob rules but like I said, he was smart.
They made a deal. A deal that started it all.
Nicola would work for Edward Sr., learning throughout the years and training to become somebody in this country. Edward needed someone to run the streets for him and Nicola was the perfect solution. Little did Edward know, he just made the worst decision of his life.
By the time Great Grandpa was eighteen; Nicola Rossini had become Nicola Cullen and he had taken over after Edward Sr. died in a "car accident". He later told me that he had planned the whole thing. That was the start of the Nicola Cullen reign and the beginning of our family's lucrative businesses.
Long story short, he married, had a butt-load of kids and the line went down to my father, Carlisle.
It was strange to think of Carlisle as the head of any crime family because of his gentle nature. That's not to say that he hasn't killed a motherfucker or two but he only likes using violence when it's necessary.
I was more like Great Grandpa Cullen. Ruthless. Menacing. Violent.
After Nicola conquered Brooklyn and half of New York, he packed up, moving to Chicago where he set up shop from there. This city was the place I thrived in. This was the place where my father was born, where I was born, where I learned everything I knew.
My father married my mother Esme right out of college and they had been together ever since. After Nicola grew too old to run anything, he chose someone who could lead and someone who would do the family proud. Carlisle's father, my grandfather was that person but he was murdered quickly after taking over. Thus, Carlisle Cullen became the most feared man of the underworld with one wave of Great Grandpa's hand.
"Edward pay attention." My mother leaned over and whispered to me, hitting my knee.
"I am." I shrugged and she gave me a steely glare.
"No you're not, I won't have you daydreaming in church."
"Is it a sin?" I asked with an eye roll.
"Yes as a matter of fact, it is." She snapped and leaned back in the pew.
I sat up straighter but let my thoughts drift more and more from church.
The OCD in me detected that something was off and I frantically searched for what it was. A small page from the Bible next to me was sticking out and I just couldn't have that. I quickly tucked it back in and re-straightened my tie.
I wasn't clinically diagnosed with anything but my habits and mannerisms were classic OCD related. No one really cared enough to fix it and with the work I did, it actually helped me stay organized.
I was the second biological son of my parents, but still the youngest after my bigger brother Emmett and adoptive brother Jasper.
Being Sicilian Italian, family came very important to the Cullen's.
As the second son of Carlisle and Esme, I would normally be in no position to take over but if you knew Emmett, you would know why I was the favorite to rule our kind in twenty, thirty years. Whenever our father decided I was ready.
Emmett was a huge guy, the size of a professional linebacker but under all the muscle and bulk, was a boy who never took life too seriously. That was part of the reason why Carlisle was so willing to give second-in-command to me but don't let his teddy bear-like exterior fool you. Emmett was soft yet powerful. He could take down a roomful of Feds with a ballpoint pen and a paperclip. I admired him for his strength but his brains weren't too much to praise.
My second brother, of sorts, was Jasper. He wasn't actually related but you would never have been able to tell because he looked almost exactly like Carlisle and he was just as much my brother as Emmett was. My parents adopted him at the age of two, before I was born and the story was pretty twisted but we made it work.
Jasper was originally the son of a rival crime family who was all but wiped out by Carlisle's people. In any case, that left Jasper without parents and Esme refused to let him go into the foster care system so they adopted him on the spot. He wasn't given a chance to take over the reins since he wasn't technically family but he was happy to be a part of what we built.
The Cullen's were known as the toughest pieces of shit this side of Sicily and no one messed with us. Of course before we got to be top dogs, we had to beat everyone else down. The Irish, the blacks, the Japanese, Chinese, Colombians, Russians, Spanish, Brazilians. Basically we owned the Eastern seaboard and it crept into the Mid-West.
We had syndicates in London, New York, Miami, Tokyo, LA, Seattle, Hong Kong, Moscow and Puerto Rico but Chicago was home base.
We dealt in everything from drugs to illegal exports but the Cullen specialty was guns. I knew my way around a Colt .45 by the time I was four and could handle the kickback myself at the age of five. Although all three sons went to school for business, Carlisle made sure we could handle any situation on the streets and taught us how to use a gun before we could walk.
Diamonds, cocaine and money were always going through our mafia connections, but the one thing we never touched was humans. Carlisle wouldn't even entertain the idea of selling another person for money even though many of the other crime families dealt in it heavily.
We had a heart when we wanted one!
Under him, my father probably had about two thousand people working all over the world. It was hard to keep track of them all and some say a mob family should be a small family or it will never work but no one stayed around very long if they weren't doing their jobs.
In the immediate family, there were about ten who made the decisions, starting with my father then moving to me, then Emmett, then Jasper.
We were a tight knit group that valued loyalty and secrecy above all else. If you didn't comply by the rules, well... use your imagination. We Cullen men were known for being creative.
"Edward, I mean it. Pay attention." My mother hit my knee again.
"I am." I groaned but my thoughts couldn't have been further from the Lord.
Emmett and Jasper snickered from beside me.
"Pussies." I whispered under my breath.
"Dipshit." Emmett shot back.
"Boys, I will not have that language in church. We're all going to confessional before we leave." Esme interrupted our fighting.
"Come on Ma, that priest is a fucking boy toucher. I can't even look at him." Jasper shuddered.
"He doesn't do that kind of thing. Father O'Malley is well respected and you better be listening." She pointed at all three of us.
Carlisle just shook his head with a smirk.
It was funny, actually laughable to see the Cullen's in church but it wasn't an option not to be, Nicola made sure of that. He said that the less inconspicuous you were, the less the Feds were on your tail so that was why we did "normal shit", as I called it. The weekdays were for the mob and the weekends were for the family.
Every Saturday, Esme hosted a huge dinner at the house and we all ate with the entire family, which included about forty people. Some of them were blood related and others not but they were all considered family by Esme. Sunday was church and then we would all get in the cars, headed towards the Rosehill Cemetery to change the flowers on Esme's father's grave, no matter what the weather. After that, it was usually relaxing until we were back to hard drugs, money, and guns on Monday.
God, I love my life!
Of course, just because we were leaders of the mafia didn't mean that we didn't have legitimate businesses. Emmett, Jasper and I all went to Harvard for undergrad and Dartmouth for our MBAs, which our father insisted we have if we planned on going into his line of work. He never pushed us to join the family but it was common knowledge that we were all going to follow him.
In addition to our crime life, we all had a normal life as well.
I was in real estate, not for anyone but myself. I owned three highrises in Chicago and numerous other ones around the country. My brothers lived with me in one of them and we basically tore the place apart with our frat boy antics. I owned the penthouse obviously but Emmett and Jasper lived in the floors below.
Jasper owned three clubs and some restaurants around the city that had basically become places of worship for young tourists and socialites. Emmett and my father were the real businessmen. According to anyone not in the know, Carlisle was a hedge fund manager.
Yeah right.
"So congregation, I urge you to do something good for the week. Be nice to someone, do a good deed." Father ended his sermon, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
"Amen." The collective voice of over six hundred spoke.
"The Lord be with you."
"And also with you." We finally concluded.
What a bunch of losers.
I had never missed a Sunday of church but that was only because of Esme. I would love to sleep in or go work out during the hour of eight o'clock mass but she wouldn't hear of it. Whatever my mother wanted, she got. She was the sweetest woman on this planet, living in a word ruled by men who dominated chaos. She was also the only woman I ever loved and probably the only woman I would ever love.
I didn't do love. That was for pussy whipped suckers who had nothing better to do. I didn't do relationships either. Never did, never will. The only one who had someone steady was Emmett with his fuck hot girlfriend of a couple years, Rosalie Hale.
She used to work as Carlisle's secretary and everyone knew that she and Emmett liked each other but they beat around the bush for awhile. That was the difference between Emmett and me. I took what I wanted, no matter what. If I wanted Rosalie, then I would have had her... and I did. Multiple times.
Of course that was before her and Emmett got together and I didn't think he knew about all of that so we were going to keep it under wraps. It was just sex anyway, just like with every other girl I had met.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Jasper stretched from his seat.
"I wish you boys would take a day off." Esme said and hooked her arm around my father's.
"No time, Ma. We have things to do." Emmett cracked his knuckles. Rosalie flicked her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder and I saw some of the teenagers in the pews behind us sneak a peek. They immediately straightened out once Emmett shot them a glare.
"Well, we have to put some flowers on your Grandfather's grave and then you're all free." She said, "Just make sure you're at the house for dinner."
Esme tried to get to my hair but I stopped her, "Ma, really? I'm a twenty-five year old man."
"I was just trying to help you out with your hair. I know how you hate it when it's out of place."
"Sorry, I was rushing this morning." I said as I ran my hands through it, making sure that everything was perfect. The family began walking through the crowds that were leaving. We slowly strolled through the church, towards the exit.
"Yeah, he was out with me last night." Jasper hit my shoulder and I cringed from the touch. I didn't like people having their hands on me.
If the people in this church knew what Jasper and I were doing last night, the whole place would burn down. I crossed myself for good measure, just in case and then did it again because odd numbers were a no go in my book.
"I don't know why you boys can't just sit at home once and a while. Read or take a nice walk." Esme said sweetly.
"Really, with the way they act?" Rose laughed as we stepped into the sunlight of early September. The blistering Chicago heat was oppressive but nothing that would keep us indoors. We all put on our sunglasses and looked like we stepped out of a fucking movie.
"Feds, three o'clock." Jasper pointed to a black town car that was waiting down the street from the church. There were two fat ass cops, sitting, waiting, trying to be stealthy.
"When are they going to give up?" Carlisle shook his head and helped Esme down the stone steps of the church, "It's really getting pathetic."
"Well, if you were a legitimate businessman, they wouldn't be there." Esme whispered.
My mother knew the horrible things her family was capable of and what we did but she tried to stay out of it. She never liked talking about industry stuff and rarely gave any input on situations that weren't legal.
"I still don't understand why they don't go home. I'm sure they have families to go to." Rose actually waved to them sarcastically. She could be a bitch when she wanted to be and we were all kind of scared of her.
"Let's go before you invite them to dinner." Emmett pulled her down State Street where our cars were waiting in a discrete parking lot.
"Uh...son, I need to speak with you." Carlisle clapped my shoulder, "Why don't we take a walk." He suggested like it was an option.
"Sure." I replied, "Let me put my coat up." I unbuttoned the coat of my navy blue pin-striped suit and shrugged out of it.
I left them standing, talking while I ran over to my baby.
My cherry red Saleen S7 was my pride and joy, bought right after I graduated from Dartmouth. I would literally kill for this car. I unlocked the driver's side, butterfly door and put my coat behind it, folding it neatly like a delicate flower.
I didn't like creases and I didn't feel like dealing with the jacket later, tackling it with an iron.
I rolled up the sleeves to my white button down and made sure my hair was straight in the window before going back over to Carlisle who was standing alone.
My mother was going with Emmett and Rose while Jasper was going to do God knows what with the rest of his day. I hoped they didn't forget that we had work to do later.
"What's this all about?" I asked and stuffed my hands in my pockets.
"Just keep walking." He said from beside me as we moved down State Street and over to Madison.
The heat was sweltering but I didn't sweat. I never sweat. I had trained myself to keep that under control.
There were a whole lot of people walking around us and even though they didn't' know my father and I, they felt to stay away. We gave off that kind of vibe.
Don't mess with us.
Carlisle and I had a weird relationship that was strained due to work but when we were relaxed, I got the old Carlisle that I grew up with. He was loving and warm but there was little to no place for that in the crime world. When he was in business mode, you knew it.
He and I moved casually yet with a purpose. I didn't really know where we were going but at this point, I didn't question him. We walked to an ice cream vendor who was serving a group of kids.
"Two vanilla." Carlisle pulled out his wallet. I cringed because I really didn't want to eat anything messy right now but if my father wanted me to shove ice cream up my ass, then I would have shoved ice cream up my ass. That's how everyone was with him.
"That will be five-fifty, sir." The man said with a thick accent that I detected was Polish.
"Wow, pretty steep for ice cream." Carlisle chuckled heartily.
"I know but got to feed the family." The vendor said shyly, handing us our frozen treats.
"Keep the change." My father paid with a five hundred dollar bill.
We left while the ice cream man was staring, stunned at the money in his hand.
"That was nice." I said as I took a long lick of my cone, trying to get the moisture that was about to dribble onto my hand.
"I'll find out who he is, pay for his rent or something." My father replied.
"What's with all this? Am I in trouble?" I asked, slightly nervous but masking it well.
"Just keep eating. There's a big man, Emmett's size, following us on the other side of the street. Don't look." My father snapped as I turned my head, "He's dark skinned, short black hair. You'll get a look once we sit up here on the bench."
I kept eating, per my father's command and didn't lift my head. The only thing that was taking my mind off of the man behind us was the glances of some pretty hot chicks who were eyeing me up and down a couple yards ahead.
I kept licking my ice cream, making sure they saw that I could use my tongue and was glad that they couldn't see my eyes behind my sunglasses because I would probably have been arrested for sexual harassment without even touching them.
"Edward, pay attention." My father brought my mind back, "Sit." He pointed to a bench in front of us, in a small park. There was a windy breeze that was flowing in the trees above and I enjoyed looking at the hustle of Chicago during this time of day.
This was my city.
We both sat down and I noticed precisely who Carlisle was mentioning before.
"Jacob Black?" I asked, knowing exactly who he was, an arch enemy of sorts.
"Keep eating. They can't read our lips." Carlisle said, "He's a smart whippersnapper that's been on the force for a couple of years. He's been tracking us for a while but of course..."
"We're too good." I gloated.
"Don't get a big head, Edward. Being conceited never did anything positive for anyone."
"Sorry, sir." I shut my mouth, "Continue."
"He's going to be keeping a close eye on us for the next couple of months."
"Why? What's different now?" I already knew the answer to that. The truth was, I needed a challenge and Black provided that for me.
I knew something must have happened for us to be getting a more constant police detail though.
"Who did the Langer job? I told you to keep it quiet and only the husband." He got angry under his breath, "Then I find out that his wife was killed too and the evidence was everywhere. There was too much blood..."
"Uh...I handled that."
"Edward, get yourself together." Carlisle said sternly, "We've been very lucky in the past but things won't be so easy if you keep messing up. I don't have time for mistakes."
"Sorry sir."
"How long?" He asked simply and to anyone else, they would have been so confused by our conversation but I knew his meaning well.
"One second." I replied and hung my head.
"It takes one second to say 'I'm sorry'." He repeated like he had since I was a child, "It takes that amount of time to cock a gun. You could be dead by the time you utter the words." He said calmly.
Since my childhood, he had always taught us that 'I'm sorry' was a phrase only to be used in the most dire of circumstances because I could be dead before I had the chance to say the words.
"Don't apologize to me." He crossed his right leg over his left, looking the picture perfect definition of calm.
"I wasn't thinking."
"It's no problem. I have everything under control but I just wanted to make you aware of our new tag-along." My father finished his ice cream.
"I know. Did you clean the mess up?"
"Yes, someone took the fall for a robbery. Apparently, a painting was stolen or something like that. The case is closed and was sealed off. Black is trying to get it back opened as a murder but the brass won't hear it. They're too busy trying to raise their arrest numbers to spend time working out a murder." He stalled, "The point of the matter is, I expected more from you. I can't keep cleaning up the mess you boys leave behind. I don't have time."
"I'll do better."
We stayed silent for a long minute as the breeze picked up. Just by smelling the air, I could predict a storm coming off of the Lakes and it would probably be here by nightfall.
I looked across the street and saw Black reading a magazine at a kiosk, plain as day. I couldn't help the crocked grin that was plastered on my face. Black and I had played cat and mouse for the past three years and he had yet to catch up to me.
The Langer's were just a small piece of the evil things that went down in the Cullen clan. By now, it wasn't an issue for me to walk into a roomful and just start unloading led into anyone who crossed me.
Martin was my target. He used to be my father's accountant or one of them at least and when I went over the books last month like I did every month, I found some discrepancies. There was about two million missing from an offshore account in Jamaica that my father kept as part of his drug running in the Caribbean. The money just vanished and that was something I wasn't putting up with.
I questioned Langer, he had nothing to say, and I let him go. Coincidentally, a very nice villa in Greece that cost two million dollars, sprung up in his name. I went over to punish him. I didn't get played, the money wasn't even a serious issue but no one made a fool of me.
His wife was just a casualty. She wasn't supposed to be home but since she was, she had to bear the burden of her husband's cross. I wasn't leaving any witnesses.
The blood was my own little touch.
It was a message. I knew that Black would be handling the case but wouldn't get anywhere with it... just like it always was with these things. I actually painted that shit over the room like I was Jackson fucking Pollock, flinging it over the walls, on the bed sheets, on the carpet. It was actually fun and I didn't usually do fun.
I was just trying to liven up the dry, boring affair that Black and I were having. He was so thick and stupid. He thought he was some hot shot over there at the Department but if he was really someone, he would have caught onto us years ago. No one ever did and no one ever would.
"He won't be a problem." I leaned back matter-of-factually.
"No. We're too smart for him."
I laughed, "I thought that being conceded was a negative trait."
"For you. I've earned it." My father grinned at me, "Let's get going. Esme would kill me if we were late to the cemetery."
After an hour of driving and placing flowers on the grave of a grandfather I never met, I was free until I had to be home for dinner.
I decided to take a drive and let my Saleen stretch her legs.
I took Highway 61, past the University of Chicago and then the yuppies of Northwestern as I blasted out of the city. The tall trees surrounded me on all sides as I took the road at 150 mph. I had a proclivity for fast cars, hot women and dangerous situations.
That was who I was. Edward Cullen. No muss, no fuss.
Frankly, I was a monster, a vampire, a killer and I loved it. I was a torturer and a murderer, wrapped in two thousand dollar suits on top of five thousand dollar shoes. I lived off of cocaine and hard liquor although I wasn't addicted to any of the shit that I pumped through my body. I had limits when it came to drugs and mostly stuck to coke that came through our dealings but that wasn't to say I wasn't up for trying new things. I got pussy whenever I wanted and I didn't even try to act like I sought any kind of relationship with someone.
I had a few good qualities but they were mostly outshined by the bad.
I was possessive, jealousy ran through my veins, hatred lived behind my eyes, I had the temper of a bull and little patience for slow movers or people who didn't do what I told them. I had to be in control at all times and didn't take orders from anyone besides my mother or father.
I didn't have time to cultivate relationships or friendships because that was beneath me. Who cared if I didn't have friends? It was better to be feared than loved and that was the motto I lived by.
I wasn't even paying attention as I passed a fucking minivan on the highway and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.
"Cullen." I answered.
"Yo, yo bro!" Emmett replied, "I just dropped Ma and Rosie off at the house. When are we going to finish this thing? I don't have time after dinner."
I made a completely illegal and badass turn on the road, into the other lane, "I'm heading back into the city now. I'll meet you at the warehouse in half an hour?"
"Sure thing. I'll get Jazz."
I ended the call without any sentimental conclusion and picked up speed as I headed back to Chicago.
I popped the bottom floor board of the Saleen in the passenger's seat and dug through until I found my second baby.
I pulled out the sterling silver, ivory handled, Desert Eagle that fit perfectly in my hands and had nearly molded itself to my body. This was my special gun, the one I used when I wanted to finish a job while showing off a little. It didn't have a silencer and wasn't a stylish assassin type gun although I used those as well, but my Desert Eagle was my go-to weapon. I had an identical one that was gold platted at home but I rarely used that. That one required a special occasion.
I set the gun in my lap and thumped my fingers on the steering wheel as I headed to the city and weaved through the early morning traffic.
I arrived at the south end of the city in no time. The wharf was huge and the place where all the big barges came into the city. There were warehouses and loading docks everywhere but the noise provided a great shield for the business that we were in. Carlisle basically owned everything down here anyway so we could use this place to our advantage.
I kept up a constant speed as I pulled next to Emmett's Mercedes SL65 that he and Jasper were leaning against.
I stepped out of the car and my Italian loafers made a soft noise in the puddle at my feet.
"Shit." I muttered and tried to shake the dirty water off. I twisted my neck as the uneasiness of dirt seeped into my skin. I breathed deeply and didn't let the feeling overtake me.
OCD is a bitch!
"Can you slow down? My car is too precious to get damaged." Emmett ran his hand along the slick, silver paint.
"Yeah, yeah." I huffed, "Let's get this over with. It's about to storm like a beast." I looked up to the sky where dark swirling clouds were rumbling above.
"What are we doing here again?" Jasper muttered as we side-stepped puddles, going into the furthest warehouse on the left side near the edge of the water.
Emmett pulled out his phone and scrolled through some information, "I think Dad wants us to question this dude about the dealings in Miami."
"He heads everything down there?" I opened the metal door.
"No, he's just a low level guy but he's shady as shit. Dad doesn't trust him. He thinks he's a cop or something."
"And what are we supposed to do?" Jasper shrugged, "Let him stay undercover for all I care."
"We can't do that." Emmett sighed, "He would know too much. We have to finish this."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, the alarms were going off. 'You can't kill a cop, Edward!', but I pushed those thoughts out. I had done it before. Killing was like second nature to me. I already knew I was going to hell, no need to mention it again.
I shoved the Desert Eagle down my belt in the back after checking my bullet supply. I was good to go.
We silently walked into the warehouse that was practically empty except for a couple of crates pushed up against the far walls, some kind of plywood that was stacked high to the ceiling, a chair in the middle of the vacant space and a trembling man of about thirty sitting in it. There were no windows and only the front door. A soft light was on but didn't provide much to see with.
"Let's get dirty." I muttered and regretted my words but I knew I would be alright. Killing was the only thing I didn't mind getting dirty with. I loved blood as long as it was pouring from someone else.
We all approached the man casually, fanning out so that we looked incredibly scary.
Emmett and Jasper took off their jackets, flinging them over a crate before rolling up their sleeves.
I circled my prey like a vulture and took him in, assessing the situation.
He was a man with some meat on his bones who looked like he could be a challenge if I was someone weaker. His head was bowed and his hands were tied behind the chair in a thick rope. I saw the red marks on his wrists, signaling to me that he had tried on more than one occasion to get out of them. He was breathing heavily but I knew that was from his position in the chair, which was very painful.
He was shorter than I was, I could already see that even with him being seated and had nothing on but a pair of boxers. He was wet with sweat and water. I guess my father had already sent someone over to soften him up.
"What's your name?" I said from behind him, coolly and calmly.
"Markos." His accent was strong.
"Where are you from?" My tone was sharp and deadly.
"Croatia."
Jasper, Emmett and I silently looked at each other, our words went through our minds without leaving our mouths.
He's not a Fed. He's Eastern European mob shit!
"Who do you work for?"
"No one."
It happened so fast, I wouldn't have known anything was going on if Markos hadn't let out a yelp of pain that echoed off of the empty walls.
Emmett slammed a piece of plywood across Markos' thighs, causing a loud sound to ricochet around us. The wood splintered down the middle from force but didn't crack completely.
"Damn, I wanted to see if I could break his femur." Emmett pouted childishly, "I guess we need a stronger piece of wood." He went off to the stack near the door and spent a couple of seconds appraising the selection.
"I'll ask you again, who do you work for?" I circled until I was an arm's length in front of him, creating more dramatic effect.
That was all this job was about, drama. I could kill him right now if I wanted. No harm done.
"No one." Markos' teeth were gritted.
I swiftly removed the Eagle from behind me and blew a hole the size of a grapefruit in his left knee. With precision, the bullet ripped through the bone, causing blood and muscle matter to spray my shirt but I didn't flinch.
I retracted my arm, letting it fall gingerly at my side with the gun still in full view.
He let out a string of curse words and I could smell the salt from his tears as they left his eyes.
Fucking pussy.
"Okay, okay." Marcos squirmed and I could see the tears falling from his face. His entire left leg would have to be amputated if he lived through this, "His name is Sergio. He's Russian and sent me to infiltrate."
I blew another hole through his left shin in two seconds. His screams were enough to almost deafen me but they were masked by the loud blow horns and sea birds outside. There was no need for a silencer. No one would hear us.
"You gave up too easily." I wiped some blood from the barrel, "If I was your mob boss, you would have already been dead for revealing that information. You didn't even put up a fight."
"I've been locked in here for a week. I haven't eaten and someone comes in every hour to beat the hell out of me until I talk. I don't have any fight left in me!"
"Pity." Jasper said under his breath.
"There's no winning with you guys is there?" Markos sobbed pathetically. I just rolled my eyes.
Jasper untied Markos from his bindings at my request and he fell to the ground in a pool of blood that was seeping from his leg.
"I want to know everything you took from us." Jasper sat in the chair with his arms crossed.
"Nothing, I swear. I've only been in for a couple of months."
"You're stupid and lazy. You got caught because you were stealing the shipments out of Miami. Where were you sending them?" Emmett asked coldly, all pretenses were gone from his voice. A business Emmett could be very scary.
"Russia. Sergio wants to take you down. Everyone does." The accent was making it hard to understand him and along with the heavy panting, I knew we weren't going to get much more out of our good friend Markos.
"How much did you take?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Just a couple kilos of coke..." He didn't have time to finish his sentence before I put a bullet straight through his forehead. His neck jerked back violently from the force of the led that was ripping through his brain and came out the other end.
Blood flew like a gusher from the large wound out of the back and was now everywhere but somehow, Emmett and Jasper were clean.
Lucky bastards.
"I have to change now before dinner." I tsked myself, not caring that a man was just obliterated by my own hand.
"You're always the messy one. It's embarrassing." Jasper slapped his knee, "Look at me, pristine as can be." He held up his arms.
I flung some blood that was on my gun across his shirt, causing it to stain a deep red.
Emmett was rolling with laughter so I got him too, which shut him up.
"Goddamn it, Edward. Rosie can't get blood out of cotton and this was her favorite one on me."
"You are such a little bitch." I snickered.
He hit me in the shoulder with a piece of wood, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to leave a mark.
"I guess we've got to deal with this piece of shit." Jasper sighed and pointed to Markos.
"We'll have the new guys dump him in the river." Emmett patted his stomach, "Right now, I'm starving."
He grabbed his jacket before bounding out of the warehouse. Jasper followed and I was the last one out.
I stuffed my gun back in my belt and shut the heavy metal door with a clang.
This was my life. Take it or leave it.
HOLY GUN SHOTTIN' EDWARD BATMAN
THERE YOU HAVE IT. THE PROLUGE AND CHAPTER 1 ARE UP FOR TWbB. I LOVE THIS STORY ALREADY AND ME ALONG WITH THE BETA ARE TRYING TO GET CHAPTERS OUT THERE. THIS STORY WILL HAVE MORE OF A SCHEDULE THAN LDV AND THVC. I WILL BE POSTING A NEW CHAPTER EVERY TUESDAY AND FRIDAY SO LOOK OUT FOR THOSE.
HOW DID WE LIKE EDWARD? I KNOW, A JERK BUT THIS STORY IS ABOUT CHANGE SO WE'LL SEE IF LOVE CAN CRUMBLE THE ALMIGHTY EDWARD CULLEN. LIKE I SAID BEFORE, THIS IS PRETTY GRPHIC STUFF SO KEEP AN OPEN MIND. BE WARNED IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH. NOT ALL CHAPTERS WILL BE LIKE THE ONE ABOVE BUT SOME WILL SO GET READY.
LOVE THE RECEPTION THIS IS GETTING ALREADY. KEEP IT UP AND SEND ME MORE REVIEWS.
NEXT, WE HAVE BELLA'S POV.
