He winced, then added, “And one of your men… someone I’ve met before, not a full member of your mafia, just someone who works around your ship… I called him. I offered him money. He agreed. He said you wouldn’t notice — said you had millions of those goods in that warehouse.” He looked up at Butcher with bloodshot eyes. “That’s the truth. That’s what happened.” Butcher stared at him for a long second. Then he nodded slowly. “I wanted to kill you,” he said flatly. “But fine. Get the money ready. My man will stay in touch. He’ll collect it.” He turned to one of his men. “Get him to a hospital. Get his fingers reattached before it’s too late.” Then Butcher turned without another word and walked out of the room. His men followed. Downstairs, he got into his black Rolls Royce, and the convoy rolled out of Christopher’s compound. Some of the bodies left behind — Butcher’s fallen men — were picked up and taken away, to be given a proper burial. Once they arrived at the apartment

He finished the meal in silence, laid back on the bed, and within minutes, drifted off into a deep sleep. The following morning… Jane finally returned from the mission Butcher had sent her on. She knocked at the door, then walked inside the compound like she owned the place. Butcher was in the living room, seated on the couch, flipping through some files. He looked up at her entrance. “Was the mission successful?” Butcher asked calmly. Jane nodded once. “Handled.” She dropped her bag by the door and stretched her arms with a yawn. “I had her clean up a mess,” Butcher explained to Dane, who was sitting off to the side. “One of my men made a mistake. Killed someone he shouldn’t have. I sent Jane to make sure it didn’t escalate.” “How’d she fix it?” Dane asked, curious. “Threatened a few people. Pressured the right ones,” Butcher said. “It’s quiet now.” Jane glanced over at Dane but didn’t say a word. Dane frowned and leaned forward slightly. “Jane, you’re not going to greet me

“Finally, we’re back on the ship,” Dane said, carrying both his and Butcher’s luggage. He took Butcher’s bag straight to the office, then carried his own to his cabin. Inside was a separate travel bag—loaded with bullets and guns—that Butcher had handed him. Dane carefully slid it under his bed before heading back to Butcher’s office. Butcher looked up as he entered. “Dane, I need you to pick someone up from the airport tomorrow.” “Who am I picking up?” Dane asked. “My adopted son,” Butcher replied. Dane’s eyes widened. “You have an adopted son?” “Yes,” Butcher nodded. “Back when I was around your age—24 or 25—I took him in. He was just ten years old. His father… his father was a close friend of mine from the mafia world. We were supposed to be on mission together when our headquarters got ambushed. I weren’t even there when it happened, When I came back, his father was lying on the ground, barely alive, At that moment, he told me what he wanted before he died. Butcher paused fo

Why did Butcher hang up the call? Before I even said the important part. How does he want me to take care of all these bodies? There are heaps of dead bodies here. How does he want me to put them all in the motherfucking sack? Ah shit. I don’t like this. Those bodies are gross as fuck. But I’m very sure, if it was a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t even be able to kill a person. Just over the last couple of days, the few days when I killed the man who tried to kill Jane, I felt depressed. But now, I don’t feel anything. Finally, it looks like my heart is made of stone. Dane said as they laughed. As he held the sack in his hand, he walked toward the members of his mafia group. He didn’t know them well, but he first packed the three members’ bodies into the sack. After packing their dead bodies inside, he tied it and placed the three sacks together. While he stayed there for about ten minutes, he stood in front of their bodies and kept praying for their souls to rest in peace. “May he go to h

He saw Butcher’s number and dialed it. The phone rang for about five seconds before Butcher picked up. “What could possibly be the reason you’re calling me?” Butcher’s deep voice growled through the phone. “Sir, please don’t be annoyed,” Dane said quickly. “It looks like someone is following me. Someone’s after my life.” “What?” Butcher responded sharply. “Who could possibly be after your life? Are you sure you’re in danger?” “Yes, sir. This person’s been following me. I made a U-turn—he did the same. It felt like someone was watching me back on the bridge, when I dumped those bodies. I had that feeling just before I left. But the strange part is, they didn’t try to kill me. That’s why I started wondering if maybe… you sent someone to watch me. To see how I handled the job,” Dane said. There was silence for about six seconds. Then— Butcher burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha! You caught me there. Looks like you’re sharp. Now you’re using those thief instincts of yours. Because no regul