Silva

Chapter Eighteen

• Silva •

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Being skeptical is a given in this business. It doesn't matter if there is an unspoken rule between long-term business deals; I'll never trust anyone when it comes to my empire.

I took an insignificant multimillion weapon trafficking ring to a multi-billion empire. Expensive purchases are paid under my supervision, and I never hand over the merchandise unless the boss is there to pass over the money.

The man with black irises whistles while waving the assault rifle around. "Knew you wouldn't disappoint, eh!"

I wait until the money is counted as his men check the merchandise. They shake the unloaded AR-15s, an obvious display of distrust to me as they continue to search for tracking devices.

I don't know if I should be offended or feel sympathy for such stupidity, but I'm not empathetic enough to care about their intelligence.

They're new to the game, but I always wonder how they're able to stay in business for so long when they wreak havoc on a daily.

This group, Decaying Sable, is dangerous. Not in the long game, but during the moment of rising thrill. They live by the dictum of tomorrow's apocalypse. They're reckless, fearless, and daredevils.

Everything could run smoothly, but they'll still bring violence into the scene just for amusement. There are a selected few who'd do business with the Decaying Sable, but I have a gut feeling if they play their cards right, they'll take over one of the powerhouses to start a war with everyone.

Some people want to see the world burn.

This isn't Rome; other bosses will obliterate this cantankerous group with ease.

Their existence doesn't outweigh the benefits of their deaths.

"Where's the lassie?" the man in charge asks as he leans his weight on the crate.

"Y'know," he says while tapping on his chest, "About yea high and a killer smile?"

When he doesn't find a reaction from me, he throws his arms up and groans. His goons laugh obnoxiously.

"We know!" he rasps, wheezing noisily with bulging eyes. "Everyone knows! She smells good? I bet she smells like a bruised peach."

The man blows a congested whistle and picks up the assault rifle to lick the barrel with his abnormally long tongue.

"She's in bed with the cops, and you're going to let her hurt your myocardium?" he mocks childishly as he taps the wet barrel under his eye.

"Just say heart, you dumbass!" one of his men shouts.

"I'm trying to be smart!" he shouts back without breaking eye contact with me.

"You didn't finish school!"

I'm starting to believe doing business with them is like giving children loaded weapons. This might very well be the last time I'm approving a deal with the Decaying Sable, or I might just accidentally turn their bodies into honeycombs.

"I see crazy in the girl," he jibes toothily.

I take personal offense to insults hurled at Irisa. No one has insulted her that I know of yet, so I don't know what I would have done.

These lunatics are getting close to the last thread of my patience. I'm trying to make this meeting as harmless as possible, but they're poking at a sleeping bear.

They know what they're doing. They want mayhem, and I can give them what they crave.

"It's all here, boss," Ivo calls as he turns the duffle bag of money towards me.