'CRACK!'
The whip sliced through the air and landed hard one last time.
Alexander's chest rose and fell heavily, breath coming out in rough huffs as he steadied himself against the edge of the table behind him. His fingers dug into the wood, knuckles pale from the strain.
Azrael's fist clenched as he pushed himself up without staggering.
His grandfather patted his shoulder, but Azrael jerked away from him despite the sting.
"My wife and son won't be coming to see you." He rolled his shoulders.
Azrael peeled off his bloodied shirt before dropping onto the sofa.
The sudden appearance of a family had changed his plans; he suddenly had too much to lose.
His grandfather's eyes darkened. He threw the whip against the floor. "Count your blessings, boy."
Azrael didn't bother replying, picking up a cigarette from his jacket.
'FLICK!'
He inhaled slowly, eyes half-lidded.
Alexander frowned at the sight before turning sharply. "Send somebody in."
The door opened almost immediately.
Mr. Salvatore stepped in, followed by Katerina, carrying a first-aid box and a spare shirt on a tray.
Her eyes fixed on his muscled body and she flushed instantly, staring at Azrael's bare torso. Nonchalantly smoking with blood on his flexing muscles made him look dangerous yet alluring.
His eyes lifted and settled on the dainty woman.
Salvatore noticed. A sleazy grin tugged at his lips as he nudged her forward. "Treat the young master's wounds."
"Y-Yes…"
She stepped closer, hands trembling slightly as she opened the box. Azrael didn't even look at her. He kept smoking, eyes closed, like she didn't exist.
She hesitantly reached out to his back with gauze when her breath hitched. Her wrist was caught mid-air.
"Sullivan."
Mr. Sullivan rushed forward immediately. "Y-Yes, Young Master!"
He quickly pulled Katerina back.
Alexander scoffed from across the room, walking out.
Katerina blinked, snapping out of it, and hurried after him. "Chairman—!"
The door shut behind them.
The chairman never saw his mistresses as more than prostitutes. It was no surprise Sullivan's tricks didn't bother him.
Azrael exhaled a thin stream of smoke in silence. "They get younger every time I see them."
"Young Master," Sullivan chuckled. "Chairman has always had particular tastes."
Sullivan began cleaning the wound on his back. Azrael took another puff, not even flinching at the sting. "How was it?"
"How was what, Young Master...?"
"The interior of her family house."
Sullivan worked carefully and fast till Azrael's heel came down hard on Sullivan's foot.
"Or was there another reason why you were there?"
"Yo-Young Master—" Sullivan eyes widened in bafflement.
He didn't think he could get in this psychopaths way with this! Didn't he ignore the girl and her bastard all these years...? Since when did he care for anyone? Could it be he really didn't know of their existence...?
Azrael leaned forward, his cigarette resting between his fingers. "I thought we worked well together."
"I...."
"You have seen me grow up, Sullivan." He pressed his heel harder into his foot. "You should know I can be petty."
'RING…!'
The ringing cut through the silence sharply. Sullivan hurried to answer the call.
"Pick up." Azrael calmly took a swig.
Sullivan felt dread at where this was going.
"Hello?"
His wife's shaken voice came through. "S-Sullivan? The boys were kidnapped from the club. Their phones are off—there's blood all over the floor—"
He cut the call, feeling the air in the spacious room suffocate him. He trembled as he looked up at the ruthless man.
Azrael exhaled a thin stream of smoke, pleased at what he saw.
Sullivan said hoarsely, "…Young Master, my sons are just 18—"
Azrael leaned back, the faintest hint of amusement touching his lips. "You had sons?"
Chills ran up Sullivan's spine. He had gotten sons in his old age. He had made many enemies working for the Chairman. To make sure they stayed hidden, they weren't even registered in his family!
How did he even know?!
"Young Master, I was wrong!" He quickly fell to his knees, his voice breaking under desperation. "They are innocent—"
"You say it like," Azrael tapped ash from his cigarette, eyes dark, "I was sending them on a 'vacation'."
Azrael's foot came down hard on his hand. Sullivan's face twisted in agony.
"Yo-Young Master…"
"You should hurry." Azrael lazily rubbed his shoe on the carpet, leaving blood streaks. "Lest they sail away."
Sullivan sprang up, his knees nearly giving out as he ran out.
Azrael closed his eyes, taking another slow drag. He smirked, throwing his head back. He laughed, sending chills down Luka's spine as he listened through the wiretap in his car.
Sullivan would have quite a night tonight.
...
He effortlessly walked down despite every movement pulling at his back.
"Azri!" A bright voice called out.
He turned to see a woman hurrying toward him, her frilly dress swaying as she sprinted to him in her heels. Her face lit up when she saw him, but the moment her eyes landed on his blank expression, she slowed.
"…Are you busy right now?" she asked carefully.
Azrael stared at his mother for a long second. A blonde woman that didn't look a day over 30, petite with blue eyes similar to his own.
She was downstairs this whole time?
"No," his lips turned upward. "When did you get back from the cruise?"
Her face brightened instantly.
"Oh! Just this morning." She turned slightly, gesturing behind her. "My secretary picked me up. You haven't met Katerina yet, right? I was so worried after Ana resigned, but Mr. Salvatore found me another secretary just before the annual gala!"
Katerina stood a few steps behind, shirt buttoned to the top now, eyes lowered.
Azrael barely glanced at her. His attention stayed on his ranting mother.
She continued talking. "I met my deskmate from high school! Can you believe we met after all these years? She was trying to fish information about that painter-artist who was on the news with you..."
Her voice dropped at the end as she looked at his cold stare.
"Valerie."
He was still smiling.