DIES IRAE

Achille

The air here stinks of smoke and sin, of too many people with too much money and time on their hands.

A strong bass thrummed through the walls, obstructing any other sound and intoxicating the ones searching for a reason to lose themselves to the luxury of being anonymous. People came here to forget about their problems, to get drunk and high and to make mistakes under the pretense of alcohol.

This was the Viper’s Den, Naples’ most notorious night club, the apple of my eye. The one place where I started my business years ago and built from the ground up to prove myself to my father as suitable enough to run this family.

Now, I sat in a private lounge, legs spread, sporting a glass of strong neat whiskey and a heavy cigar. My brothers and sisters were somewhere in the crowd bellow. This was a family night, a celebration of sorts for the last successful deal our family managed to win.

I grinned at the thought, hand lifting to the crucifix around my neck, stroking the cold silver. What a blessing it was being gifted with the balls to run a business like ours.

The Maledetti family, founded by our great grandfather, was one of the most powerful and influential families in Naples, Italy. Generations of criminals were gathered in the center of our family, creating a dangerous force to challenge. And I, as the current family head, had every intention to keep it that way and expand the empire even more.

The music picked up and from the corner of my eye I saw my brother Niccolo lead a girl by the hand towards the stairs to the second floor of this beautiful establishment. The first floor was all for dancing and mingling, forgetting where you came from and not caring where you were going. The second floor was where the private and soundproof rooms were nestled behind heavy doors and velvet curtains.

Access was strictly restricted for people outside the family. That girl should feel lucky she’s caught the attention of the youngest brother and the most “Don Juan” one.

I exhaled smoke from my cigar, leaning heavily against the backrest of the couch, a grin dancing on my lips at the thought of my family having fun. A fresh wound ached at my side, but it didn’t matter. It was for them; everything was for them. I would lay my life if that meant they got to live this careless free life.

“Don Maledetti,” Marco, my right-hand man leaned to my ear, his voice loud as to overuse the thrum of the music. I raised an eyebrow in question; my gaze fixed forward to the crowd. “Guests. Mikheil Eliava, his son and a few guards.”

My smile slowly slipped as the information sank in. The Georgian mafia leader was a family friend from the times of my grandfather. He didn’t usually leave his country if not necessary due to his paranoia for keeping his only son safe. I could either respect him for it or mock him.

“Send them up.”

I wasn’t in the mood for business. Not after today’s shipment and the shootout I barely avoided. The wound at my side flared at the memory of that bullet grazing my skin. It wasn’t wise for people to provoke me on a good day, today I was absolutely pissed.

But no one turned away Mikheil Eliava. That man was a monster in the underground world and him coming to Italy meant something important was either about to happen or was already happening.

“Don Maledetti,” Mikheil emerged from the crowd, taking the stairs to the balcony where my private lounge was located. “Last time we saw each other you were barely fifteen.”

I stood, grasping Mikheil’s outstretched hand in a firm shake. Despite the grave look on his face, Mikheil managed a small smile which I returned with a nod. Pleasantries weren’t my strong suit.

Mikheil had grown fatter and shorter since the last time I saw him. His round face and graying hair were only a proof to his old age. It’s been twenty years after all.

“Let me introduce you to my son, Enriko.” Mikheil moved to the side, revealing a young blond man.

My brow raised as I assessed him over and caught him doing the same to me. He was lean, beautiful in that pale way that didn’t quite belong to the Georgians. Then I looked at Mikheil and swiftly remembered his late wife, she was Russian which explained Enriko’s genetics.

“Please take a seat, make yourself at home, Mr. Eliava.” I extended a hand to the couches, waving a waitress over at the same time.

Despite the darkened look in his eyes, Mikheil ordered a drink after eyeing my glass. Enriko held back, his eyes glued to the crucifix around my neck. The few undone buttons of my black shirt allowed for a perfect view to it.

Mikheil’s drink arrived swiftly, and he took a generous sip. I waited patiently, holding the cigar between my fingers. I offered one to my guests, but they refused. Mikheil used the excuse he was looking out for his health, then made a joke about old people and problems. I chuckled at it more from respect towards the man and not the humor.

“A long way from Georgia, isn’t it?” I finally asked, done with the socially acceptable small talk. Mikheil sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet on such short notice, I’m sure you must be busy.” Mikheil didn’t look apologetic at all, he knew as well as I did that, I wouldn’t turn him away.

“Always for an old friend.” My response was as automatic as Mikheil’s empty apology.

“Back to business,” Mikheil locked his fingers over his lap and leaned forward. “I want to call in that favor you owe.”

My blood ran cold. Mikheil never worked on favors. I used to a long time ago hence the debt I owe the man. Mikheil helped me kick start my business twenty years ago and since then he has been quietly observing whether I would show potential, I did. So, Mikheil withheld the favor calling. I almost thought he had forgotten, I should have known better.

Favors were a dangerous think in our world. You could end in a gutter depending on who you owed. I doubted Mikheil would demand I shoot myself, but a person could never know.

I exhaled a long breath, mixed with the smoke from my cigar and leaned back.

“I’m well aware you have a debt to collect, Mr. Eliava,” My eyes flicked to the bodyguards standing firmly behind Mikheil and his son. “And while the pleasure would be all mine for old times’ sake, I must warn you to be careful of what you demand from me.”

“Don Maledetti, no, Achille,” the temperature dropped around us. “I respect you as a man would respect another. But a favor is a favor and when it comes to the thing I want, it’s not a laughing matter.”

Now that picked my attention. I let a grin grow on my face as I extinguished my cigar and stood. I waved for Mikheil to follow and began to the second floor of the Viper’s Den.

We passed a few doors, walked to the end of the hall and I unlocked a room that acted as my office whenever I needed a quick business meeting at the club.

I sat behind the mahogany desk as Mikheil, and his son sat in the seats in front of it. The bodyguards received strict orders to wait outside. Here, the loud music from the first floor barely reached and the soundproofing of the office allowed for the drumming of my ears to subside.

“Feel free to talk, Mr. Eliava.” I leaned forward, resting my arms against my desk.

“There’s trouble with the Georgian’s underground syndicates. Groups of rogue criminals are forming, their only goal – chaos. But I believe there’s someone else pulling the strings, someone I have no influence or reach over.”

“Are you afraid you’re being overtaken?”

“No,” Mikheil chuckled. “They couldn’t overtake me if they tried. But the numbers of murders are growing, it unsettles me. My men are working on locating and stopping this organized chaos, but they are playing the border of my territory.”

I waited patiently for Mikheil to get his point across. He’s been awfully dodgy about what he wanted from me. Trouble in Georgia didn’t account for Mikheil and his only son flying to Italy, finding me and calling in a favor.

“The favor I came to call is as follows, for you to guard my son while I take care of business back home.”

There it was. The bomb dropping. I steepled my fingers over the table, doing everything in my power to hold the anger from boiling over. I had a short temper, people had told me that enough for me to be aware of it.

I respected Mikheil for trying to protect his son, his only child and the future leader of their family, but I wasn’t a babysitter. I didn’t feel like a man myself most days. And on top of everything I was too busy to pay extra attention to some spoiled brat on vacation.

“My answer is no.” I respond when I’m sure no foul words would escape under the dwindling control I had over my anger.

Mikheil’s face fell, darkening even more than it already was, if that was even possible.

“I don’t think you heard me correctly, Achille,” Mikheil tapped with one finger against one of his rings as if measuring his own patience. “I’m not asking.”

I grit my teeth and move my gaze on the boy. I let my eyes travel the expanse of his body, noting the stiffness of his muscles and the deep frown on his gorgeous face. He bristles under my scrutiny and opens his mouth.

The slamming of the door interrupts us all. I’m standing with a gun aimed at the person at the door in the matter of seconds. Mikheil had slipped his own hand in the inside of his suit jacket, no doubt gripping a weapon of his own. The boy’s head whipped back so fast I almost thought it would snap off his shoulders.

"Cazzo.” I drop back on my chair, watching as my brother saunters into the room. He deserved a beating for this little stunt.

“Mikheil! What a pleasant surprise!” My younger brother Enzo grinned wide, arms spread for a hug as if Mikheil was a visiting uncle and not trouble in disguise.

Mikheil returned the smile, awkwardly patting my brother’s back as Enzo encases him in a solid hug. Enzo was built like a bear, standing as tall as me and twice as mean when he wished to be. Now, he was simply a teddy bear, demanding attention and love.

“You are interrupting, stronzo.” I sigh wistfully, imagining shooting my own brother between the eyes. Instead, I pull the safety of my gun and pocket it back on myself.

“What is going on anyways? Are you working on our celebration night?”

Enzo wouldn’t recognize social norm if it was to hit him in the face. From our family he was probably the most messed up one in that regard. His temper burned faster than mine which often led to at least one body wherever he went alone.

Mikheil, seeing Enzo as a useful asset to the outcome of our deal immediately jumps to the opportunity to push.

“I was wishing for my son to spend a few weeks in Italy, get to know the business, learn how this side of the underworld works.”

That was a load of bullshit if I’ve heard one. I looked briefly at Enriko, and we locked eyes. He looked just as exhausted as I felt. A snort stood on the tip of my tongue. I see how it was. The boy wasn’t willing to leave his father deal with that side of their life alone. I doubted he would be able to do anything even if he was allowed to help.

I hold back a tortured exhale, preparing mentally for what was to follow. Enzo was a sucker for our way of life, sometimes I feared he liked it a bit too much. If it meant having the chance to brag and act as a tour guide, he would chop a finger at the opportunity to do it.

“Of course, uncle Mikheil!” Enzo grinned so wide I wondered if his lips hurt.

“I knew I could depend on you, Enzo.”

“Enzo, get out.” I finally get a hold of my bearing to issue the command, clear and loud as thunder.

My brother glanced at me with the darkest corner of his mind. He did that often enough for me to be used to it and to know he doesn’t mean it... most of the time. Sometimes I wondered what was stopping Enzo from killing our whole family. Then I remembered he loved us too much and maybe God was to thank for that.

“Hold on to that crucifix, Achille.” Enzo’s lips pulled in an unsettling smile. He always said that when he was pissed, trying to intimidate me. Never had he succeeded. After all I was the only thing standing between Enzo and the mental hospital.

Enzo bit his goodbyes to Mikheil and Enrike, then turned and strutted out of my office, hands in his pockets. He didn’t slam the door back closed. No, he decided to be a little bitch brother and leave it open. My right-hand man had to step in and pull it closed.

“I’m glad that’s dealt with,” Mikheil smiled at me, a wight lifting off his shoulders. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Achille.”

I stand up and shake his hand despite the anger rolling around in my stomach.

“The pleasure is all mine.”