Was it mercy or a cruel conclusion?

The echos of thick and heavy blood dropping to cold cement played a symphony in the brightly lit room. A look of absolute desperation glowed in flecks of amber, what a beautiful sight. The glowing beams above defined strained contours of cheekbones and perturbing veins.

That moment before death came and sunk its claws into a soul, that moment was mesmerising. It was why I could not look away, not when it was far too beautiful... The flush leaving fragile skin, irises expanding and lungs seizing.

A final glimmer of hope in their eyes, a silent prayer on trembling lips.

God would not save you.

This was not his house.

I pressed the cold edge of a metal blade against wood, coated in crimson it left an imprint as I etched and etched, waiting until the final breath escaped and death consumed the man before me. Only then did I analyse my artwork.

T R A D I T O R E

I was never one for theatrics but something about tonight felt cinematic, this was a show. One for all my men, for anyone who thought it wise to cross me. I held very little emotional capacity, it's that sociopathic state that had Italia feeding from the palm of my hand.

Mercy was killing the fucker who hid information on Arsenio Silvetti's murder. Mercy was not drawing it out with painful precision. Mercy was letting him die with his organs intact... well, mostly.

My grandfather's butchered body remained imprinted on the corners of my mind. There was very little room in my world for values and moral dilemmas, but loyalty and respect; sat on a pedestal.

Standing I twirled the small piece of wood before placing it on the metal chair I'd vacated. "Do you think he would've spoken?" I asked my underboss.

Salvatore cocked his head slightly, looking pointedly at the decapitated chunk of tongue on the floor. Then with a raised eyebrow, he replied, "No, Don, don't think he would've utter a single word."

Nodding I continued passed him, "was there anything on his laptop?"

We made our way up the stairs and into the main hall, passing armed men on the route.

Closing the concealed metal door behind us, Salvatore hummed, "working on it, there's communications and a transaction from an anonymous buyer. Someone is willing to pay a lot of money to eradicate your name."

That caused the tip of my jaw to tilt up in amusement, "and just how much am I worth?"

"Twenty-One Million."

Pursing my lips, I sigh, "Only? Seems a little cheap."

Salvatore chuckles.

"I want a name, Sal. Too fucking old to be chasing some ghost across the country." I poured the caramelised liquid into a crystal tumbler, and the rich rum warmed my throat.

"Si."

Cracking my neck I settled behind my large oak desk and watched the empty Salvatore had occupied. He truly was getting too old for this shit, despite his muscular physic the slight salt to his hair and crinkle at the corners of his eyes painted a clear picture. Fifteen years of running Famiglia Mano Nera did that to a man.

At thirty-eight he was the youngest Don, he was also one of the most feared men to walk the earth. Only one crazy, stupid motherfucker would attack Silvetti blood.

The notification in my emails confirmed two things.

One; Ruslan Ivanov was one crazy stupid motherfucker.

And two; his pretty little Prima Donna daughter was currently drinking the finest vodka my club had to offer.

Flicking through the documents Salvatore sent through, I couldn't help the bitterness that erupted on my tongue. The Russian politician had little he cared for, but that daughter of his was his pride and joy.

Ruslan paraded Lily around like she was a unique diamond, though it pained me to admit it, I'd never seen a woman as captivating as her.

I fucking hated it. There wasn't a single thing I could fault on the woman.

Not the perfect glossy golden hair that fell in waves around her defined frame, not the fullness in her rosy pink lips or the ice in her blue eyes. Fuck even her waist curved into the point of madness before it flared out into wide hips.

Poor little princess didn't realise she'd landed her perfectly rounded ass in my club, what a fucking prize.

Clutching my phone in my palm, I absently stroked the cool metal beneath my suit jacket. Then I left my office.

Walking through the marbled mansion, I exited two large doors where my driver waited patiently. Slipping inside I gave him a clipped direction as to where we were headed and then sat back with my eyes fixed on the small screen.

Her eyes bore into mine and I wouldn't say I liked the fact that I had left my home to fetch this woman. I could've easily sent any of my men or ordered those employed at my club to keep her detained there. Fuck Sal would've sedated her within minutes, presenting her like a gift to me without a second thought.

But those blue oceans held my full attention and the thought of anyone's hands on her seemed to irk something inside my dead form. Retribution would come at the cost of my hands, no one else's.

Ruslan owed me a life.

What better one than his precious daughter's?

The drive into the city took twenty minutes and by the time I arrived, a buzzing had formed within my mind.

It was unhealthy and completely foreign, adrenaline pumped in my veins and I realised this feeling was excitement. I put it down to the satisfaction that would ultimately come from avenging my grandfather's death. Blood was best severed, hot, sticky and sinful.

Walking through the front doors of the rustic club my men nodded, dropping their heads as a sign of respect. The atmosphere was filled with bodies, smoke and flashing lights, fuck this place was a headache. But it was a money pit, so I kept the fucking thing running.

Lifting my finger to the closest bartender, I voiced with my eyes my need for alcohol. A glass of expensive whiskey was placed in front of me on the bar, unlike my usual accent to the second level of the establishment tonight I slipped onto the barstool and scanned the crowd.

She was easy to find, fuck the air seemed to glow around the damn woman.

Lily Ivanov wore more material than any other woman in the damn club and yet she oozed sex appeal like no other. The classy kind that had men dropping to their knees in hopes of chancing a kiss, to those pointed white heels she wore.

Her dress was silk, softly moulding to her curves like a second skin, it almost appeared wet. The sleeves fell off her shoulders, wrapping over the crease of her armpits before dipping dangerously low at her neckline. The soft material wrapped around her waist before it ran down her form, stopping just above her knees.

Gold necklace, gold earrings, gold bracelet.

I was sure if I saw the underside of her pointy high heels, they'd shine red.

Spoilt little princess.

Tracing my eyes down her form once more I clenched my jaw. Would she still look so perfectly put together covered in blood?

Yeah, she fucking would... The thought did little to settle the buzzing.

Downing the amber heat, I lifted my finger for another.

I spent the next hour watching Lily as she danced around my club like she fucking owned it. The woman with her seemed borderline manic, with wild black curls and chocolate skin glistening with glitter as she grinned wickedly at Lily.

Everything about their friendship screamed wrong, from the regal appearance Lily walked with to the wild girl vibes her friend oozed. I wondered if Ruslan knew his daughter rolled her hips like she'd learnt the very art of seduction from the Gods.

My cock jerked and pulsed against my thigh. Traitor.

It seemed Lily and her friend had caught the attention of most of the men in the room. More and more I was coming to despise the damn woman, she stole years worth of hardened resolve and control with the simple flutter of her lashes.

My anger and hatred combined, she had no fucking idea the kind of power she held. 

Pretty little thing hadn't even noticed the beast currently stalking her every move. But the rest of the room noticed her alright. How could they not when she looked like an absolute vision, but it was more than appearance...

Lily was temptation.

A fruit that would be both bitter and sweet... She was a cruel conclusion; she would undoubtedly destroy anything she touched and she would do so with refined elegance.

So why did the thought of her destruction cause my cock to twitch in these ridiculously expensive slacks? 

Fuck I needed to clear my mind and most importantly my cock of this woman. As the thought passed my mind another type of bitterness formed, because there across the room a young idiot was about to lose his fucking hands.

The boyish-looking jock placed his palms on Lily's waist as she swayed, she tried to politely move away but he tightened his grip on her. For the first time in my life, I found every foundation of control in my body snapping...

Slamming the glass down on the counter with a loud shatter, I crossed the floor and gripped the back of the fuckers shirt. He was lucky he'd not touched any other part of Lily, but that did not stop the itch that formed beneath my palms. Mercy, Killian. Mercy.

Listening to the voice in my head, I decided he would only lose his wrist down... After all, I was a giving man.

Yanking him back, I pushed him to his knees and signalled for one of my men to take him. Moments later, once the fucker was removed I turned my feral gaze to Lily's startled one.