His Mafia Prince
Chapter 90: Get A Grip

Chapter 90: Get A Grip

(ARLO)

Marcus winces. "No. What I mean is I’m nervous about this. I mean, Sasha Adonis is a beast. He shows no mercy to anyone who threatens him. We need to make sure we kill him first, or we are toast.

"We will," I say even though I’m quacking inside. Marcus might be nervous, but I’m no fool. It’s not like I don’t know that going after Sasha Adonis could get me killed. But I’ve made peace with that since. I never thought that us getting out alive was guaranteed. I don’t care if I die, as long as that fucker Sasha dies with me too. I must avenge the shame he put my father through and his death. He leaves me no choice. There’s nothing as important as loyalty in our world.

"If...uhm," Marcus begins nervously. "If something were to happen to you, your cousin Dalton could take over, right?"

"Yes, he will." Unlike me, Dalton has always chomped on the idea that he would someday be head of the Sovereign Ring syndicate. I wasn’t the power-hungry kind of person. I’d have preferred a quieter life, one with less violence. But I was born the son of Kasi Sullivan, and my fate was sealed then.

"We have to be careful enough so that nothing happens to you. I’d hate if Dalton had to be the one to take over from you."

"I’d hate that too, mostly because it would mean that I’m dead," I smirk and finish my coffee.

Marcus’ features harden. "You know it would be safer if we just killed Miles now. He’d be less of a threat then. But he is dying either way. Having him loose and wandering in the cellar makes me kind of nervous."

"There’s no hurry, Marcus. I want him to suffer. I want to watch him suffer like my father suffered at their hands. He helped Sasha to kill my father." I grit my teeth. "I will kill him, but before then, he has to suffer too."

"Alright then." Marcus nods. "So then, what’s our next move?"

"I want you to go to town. Go to Magna and begin spreading rumours. Say that you heard from someone from another syndicate that Miles is being held in the mountains. Make it vague just enough for Sasha to narrow down his search."

"Yes, boss." He says.

I look at him grimly. "Don’t hang around there for long. Just have a drink, talk a little and be on your way back here. If you stay there too long, Sasha might grab you and start torturing you for information. I can’t have that."

"Got it, boss."Marcus swallows loudly and gets up to head for the door.

"And Marcus?"

"Yes, boss?" He stops and turns to face me.

"If Sasha happens to catch you, you won’t talk, right?"

He frowns, looking insulted. "Fuck no."

"You won’t even if he snips your fingers or begins to shred your skin? I know of very few men who hold out when being tortured. Even if they have good intentions, the agony makes their silence impossible. Loyal or not, men begin to talk if you slice off a few of their body parts."

He looks sickened by my words. "I won’t rat you out, boss."

"That’s just what everyone says."

He shrugs. "Okay...if it comes to that, I’ll try and hold out for as long as I can. If I take a long to get back, I guess I assume the worst and get out of this place. I won’t cave easily unless they chop off my body parts."

His honesty feels valid and I appreciate it with a grim smile on my face. "I’ll disappear if you won’t be back in 2 hours."

His reply is a curt nod and he turns to take his leave.

The revving of the engine starts, and then shortly after, it fades into the distance. The cabin is gloomy and quiet once he is gone.

The silence makes sense. The cabin is tucked away miles away from the city in a remote area in the mountains. My father bought the place ages ago. It wasn’t a vacation home. He bought it because of its location. Because it was convenient for him to torture men and dump their bodies where they would never be found.

I think of all the people that my father murdered in this cabin and a chill runs through me. I glance around. In truth, this kind of creeps me out. I wonder if there are spirits of dead people hovering around here. I wonder if they’re watching me and wishing that they could take their revenge.

A gruff laugh escapes me as the hairs at the back of my neck rise. I quickly jerk up, scanning the kitchen uneasily. I decide to visit Miles again. It’s better to be around a man who hates me than being alone in the proximity of ghosts who hate me, right?

I pull one of the kitchen drawers open and take out a pair of oversized handcuffs. Earlier on, I had planned to cuff Miles. He is a big man and I knew the regular cuffs wouldn’t fit his wrists. I tuck the keys into my back pocket then grab the flashlight, cattle prod and head down to the cellar.

The stench makes me gag a little, considering I haven’t been in this cabin for years. I hadn’t noticed how stinky the basement was because I was so focused on Miles. But now I smell it, and it is foul as hell. It reeks of urine and blood. I almost pity Miles for having to stay down there for days.

Almost.

When Miles hears me coming up the stairs, he sits up. He gets to his feet and he looks like a giant compared to me. He is more bulky and more muscular. Thoughts of his body pressed on mine when we had sex come flashing back. I hate the sexual thoughts swirling in my mind right now. I’d very much love to forget about it, but it’s hard not to think about how he shoved me roughly. The memories of him. Just taking what he wants makes me shiver.

Yes, he took what he wanted. We had no time to negotiate. He took what he wanted and that was hot as fuck. I liked how the brute of an alpha manhandled me. Even now as I think of it, my dick hardens. I bite my jaw and push the lusty thoughts out of my brain. I can’t be thinking that of him now.

"Back so soon?" He says gruffly.

"You deserve to suffer, so I figured why not?" I smirk. "I look forward to making your life hell."

He doesn’t snap back at me, which honestly surprises me. He is quite mouthy. He stands in the distance quietly. His dark shadows give his angular face a sinister appearance.

"Turn around and face the cot," I demand.

"Why?"

"Because I want to cuff you."

His brow wrinkles. "What if I don’t wanna be cuffed?"

"What the fuck do you think this is? A democracy?" I lift the prod. "I’ll hurt you if you’re stubborn"

He inches closer to me and leans in. His masculine power radiates to me and I get a whiff of his musky cologne and his sweat. "If you want to torture me either way," his voice is soft. "Then why would I let you cuff me? What’s in it for me if I agree to be cuffed?"

I inhale his scent and shiver instinctively. I can’t seem to stifle my physical reaction to him and it’s annoying. The much he turns me on is embarrassing. Never once have I been attracted to big, burly type alphas, but Miles does something to me. His roughness and baseness are what draws me to him. He’s so different, from me and everyone who’s ever touched me. He’s a hoodlum. I want more of him.

I need to get a fucking grip.

I desperately try to control my uncontrollable lust. "I might be nicer if you play nice."