I had this habit of making a list.
People I hate, People I want to see suffer, People I owe a scar. The list grew fast. Business associates, backstabbers, blood relatives. Some overlapped. But the final column… that one stayed short.
People I'd love to kill.
Not quick deaths, Slow ones. Thought-out, deserved. I wrote it down, So I never forget a single name.
Not that I would if I didn't, but you know, I've always had a flare for the dramatics.
Well, periodically.
I found it quite... satisfying, whenever I crossed a name off my list. It felt like justice.
They earned their place, every single one of them. Not by accident, Not by rumor. They worked for it. Through betrayal, disrespect, greed, or sheer stupidity. Some crossed a line. Others pissed me off just enough. And in my world, that's all it takes. You don't stumble onto my list. You carve your name into it.
There was no order to the list. No rankings, no favorites. I picked names like pulling cards from a deck—random, instinctive, whatever suited my mood. Some days, it was the loudmouth who talked too much. Other days, it was the one who thought silence meant safety. Sooner or later, they all got their turn.
And when that time came, you could run, but never far enough. You could hide, but never well enough.
People I'd love to kill.
My father. For well... existing.
He wasn't a man. No, just a walking stain with a last name. A sperm donor wrapped in arrogance, clinging to power he didn't earn. I don't hate him. That would imply I think about him. I don't. But if he stopped breathing, I'd sleep better.
The logistics crew — incompetent bastards. They were given simple instructions. Why can't anyone do their Fucking job these days?
Elio Marino.
Giuseppe Solecitto.
Benjamin Holden.
These were just to name a few.
All miserable bastards.
But none of them — not one — holds a candle to the man in front of me. In this particular moment, at least. This one's special.
He's shaking now, a quiet tremble in his right hand. Still trying to act like he's not scared.
I find it...
How do you say... Cute.
He lied, he stole, and then he made the mistake of thinking he could get away with it, maybe because he's a politician. And now he's back. Sitting in my chair, breathing my air, wasting my time.
I stare at him as he fidgets. I don't speak. Silence says more than words ever could.
His eyes dart. I could tell My silence makes him nervous. Good. Perhaps if he begged, I'd consider something soft. But he doesn't, not yet. And by the time he does, it'll already be too late.
Pity.
I lean forward, slow and deliberate. To let the tension stretch. I want him to feel it in his spine.
"You crossed me," I say, voice low. He stammers something about loyalty, Mistakes, Misunderstanding.
Anderson was supposed to launder my money, quietly, cleanly through inflated government contracts and backdoor development deals. That was the agreement. Not because I needed it, but because he came to me for help first, to smuggle arms. And I couldn't just help him without receiving something in return. So I took the opportunity anyway.
But somewhere along the line, the bastard got bold. He started skimming millions off the top, slipping it into offshore accounts under dummy corporations he thought I wouldn't notice. He thought hiding behind a Fucking Senate seat and a suit would protect him. He Fucking thought wrong.
I blink once. Then smile — a sharp, cruel thing."I don't do misunderstandings." still smiling "say, have you ever heard of The Catherine Wheel?"
His face drains of color.
I sit back, fingers drumming against the armrest.
Now, I'll have my fun.
°°°
I watched three of my men roll the wheel into the room with a satisfied smirk.
I could tell Anderson had already pissed himself from the unpleasant smell I perceived the moment I stepped closer.
Cowards always leak. And I could tell he was about to cry too, as my men were busy setting up his death.
He was squirming, trying to free himself from the binds of the rope. Pathetic, I almost laughed.
"M... Massimo, listen, if you let me go, I can fix everything, I... I promise you. No more slip ups. I'm so sorry for stealing from you... *sniffle* I don't know what came over me P... P... Please, I'm begging you" he sobbed.
I knew the pompous bastard would break eventually. I admit, I expected him to alot sooner; guess I underestimated the lengths Mr. Senator would go to polish his ego.
But I found it quite amusing now, so... "hmmm... keep talking" I said as I signaled for Rosso to untie him.
"I... I admit what I did was stupid... I never should have crossed you. I swear I'll fix it, J... Just give me another chance, I beg you! ." His sobs were louder now, and no longer amusing, just fucking annoying.
"You only get one" I said
"What?" he asked with wide, desperate eyes.
Rosso had already untied him and yanked him up from the chair.
"One fucking chance, Anderson. And you fucked it up. You don't get another, I'm not fucking Santa Claus" I gestured for Rosso to take him to the wheel as I walked towards the weapons table my men had layed out.
"N... No no! Massimo, P... Please please, I beg you, d...don't do this, pleaseeeee! Think about my family, my office, what could happen if I go missing, please, don't do this" he thrashed and kicked and cried, but nothing could save him at this point.
"You're going to die a slow and painful death, Senator" I examined the hammer in my hand. This should do.
He found his way to my list and I had every intention of crossing his name out tonight.
°°°
"How would you prefer we handle the body boss?" Rosso asked from behind as I wiped my hands clean of that idiot's blood.
The wrinkly fool died much quicker than I had anticipated. I would have preferred to have him bleed to death after I had broken his bones.
" Dump his body somewhere it'll be found. We wouldn't want anyone wasting time, filing a missing person's report, would we?"
"Of course, boss" I turned to face him,and he nodded in understanding before leaving. People should know who he really was.
...
Pouring myself a glass of Dom Perignon, I sat behind my study table... Thinking.
I stepped into the study, loosened the cuffs of my shirt, and went straight for the bottle of Dom.
I poured a glass, dropped into the leather chair behind my desk, and let the silence stretch. There was work to do. A list longer than I cared to admit. Shipments to reroute, accounts to balance, rats to smoke out. And a most recent addition, I was to get married.
My eyes drifted. The envelope was still there. Unassuming, like it hadn't almost gotten someone killed.
The Castillo girl. That little game was supposed to be harmless. Just a distraction because I'd been bored.
Didn't think she'd make it out in one piece, But she did. Impressive.
A knock came,I didn't answer. Rosso stepped in anyway. He knew better. "It's been taken care of," he said and moved to pour himself a drink before slumping down on a seat.
I gave him a nod, tossed back the rest of the Dom, and leaned back in my chair.
One less thing on my list.