4. Drake

Drake:I need your help.

Anders:I’m busy. Are you bleeding out?

Drake:Would I be fucking texting you?

Anders: I’ll be there in fifteen.

Thirty minutes after Dr. Anders arrives, I lay CiCi down on my bed, pulling the soft white bamboo sheets over her body. She looks so peaceful, but I know it wasn’t safe to bring her here, or Shado for that matter. The basement level of Vanguard Enterprises has been the location of my bunker for the last thirteen years. In a matter of two hours, I’ve compromised my identity and safe place.

“Based on the quick exam you let me perform, she has a very mild concussion. Nothing life threatening. I gave her some pain medicine and a mild sedative in the form of an injection. She will be asleep for a while.”

Doctor Anders has been my private physician since I started out on my crusade. My first serious injury, I crawled into the alleyway behind the hospital just as he was walking out. He’s been saving my life ever since and keeping my secret safe.

All I can do is nod as I run my thumb across the top of her hand. I can’t take my eyes off her. Never knowing if I’d see her again, only to save her life. The universe is playing some sick joke.

“Watch for dilated pupils when she wakes up, vomiting, fainting. The usual signs of concussions. I know you’re familiar.” He chuckles softly.

I nod again.

His voice takes on a serious tone. “Drake? I don’t know this girl or what she means to you, but if you care for her, and you do, I can see it in your eyes…” He pauses. “Keep her far away from your lifestyle.”

***

As I round the corner in the hallways of my father’s estate, I hear the sounds of hushed, frustrated voices.

Stealthily inching closer to the cracked doorway, I recognize the men to whom the voices belong.

The Fourth Circle.

The name given to these four men by the citizens of Edinburgh. In their own countries, their organizations are at war; killing anyone who stands in the way of their plans without regard for societal status. Here in the states, they operate differently. The heads of each of the crime families put their own hatred aside and form a business truce so as not to bring unwanted negative attention from law enforcement.

Fueled by deadly avarice, they have made it their mission to take over the city; to rid it of the cancerous leeches known as the lower class that inhabit Raventown, a smaller suburb in the city”s epicenter. In their eyes, these innocent people have done nothing but suck the upper class dry.

“Mass murder is not how my Bratva brigade operates, Dante. We like to avoid unnecessary run-ins with the law.”

I would know that seething voice anywhere, as I have been around him most of my life: Dimitri Parshikov. He is one of the four kings of the Russian Mob, directly underneath his leader, or Pakhan, Mikhail Petrov. It’s not mass killing he truly cares about, it’s control. It’s ensuring that his brigade has the upper-hand and chooses when and how these people will pay for merely existing among the elite.

“We said we would help you clean up Edinburgh in exchange for our rights to the docks and railways. No one mentioned anything about going on a killing spree.”

Dimitri’s voice is angrily followed up by Enzo Silvestri, a strong Italian influence in Cosa Nostra that lives on the outskirts of Boston.

“So drugs, murder when it benefits you, human trafficking, and money laundering are fine, but this is where you two mafia lords draw the line in the sand?” The hairs on my neck stand as I recognize the snarling voice.

My father, Dante Reign. Successful businessman of Vanguard Enterprises by day, and crime lord by night. He has been running the drug rings and overseeing the weapons trade in Edinburgh for as long as I can remember.

“What happens to the cargo after it is distributed is out of our hands.” Enzo snaps.

It’s fucking sick. Enzo has a daughter, yet the man aids in human trafficking, letting Dimitri use his docks for their sick desires.

“We kill when someone threatens our families or livelihoods. There are other ways to gain control of Edinburgh without breaking our codes of honor.” Dimitri pauses. “Knocking off certain politicians, perhaps.”

“Oh, so murdering them is okay?” I can hear the angry grumble in my father’s voice as he speaks.

“They’re corrupt fucks anyhow. The world could use less of them.” Enzo says flatly.

That’s when I hear Craig Demassi pipe up.

“Fellas, we did not become successful businessmen without hurting a few people in the process.”

“A few people?!” Enzo shouts, “Poisoning the water system that runs through Raventown would kill more than a few people. It would kill thousands.”

“I am so very impressed that you can do math, Enzo.” My father sneers. “Once it is done, then we go in, buy up the properties, and begin the cleanup. The criminals become the heroes, and we own Raventown. That’s the first step of our plan, gentlemen.”

I hear footsteps approaching, and Dimitri’s voice grows closer. “My men will not be a part of this.”

Before the door can swing open, I hear the click of a gun. “Remember, we made a deal. Anyone who backs out on that deal can easily be replaced, Dimitri.”

A deafening silence falls on the room before another voice speaks.

“When and where?” Enzo asks in a hushed voice.

“Raventown has four water line access points. Tomorrow night at nine o’clock. We each dump the vat of chemicals through the water tunnels at the access points, and we watch as the cancerous epicenter of our city crumbles.”

***

After tucking CiCi in when Dr. Anders leaves, I hurry down the hall to the room where I house my weapons and do most of my intel gathering. Striding past Shado, I begin typing on my computer into a database on the dark web.

“So you’re him. Draco. The Dragon.”

I try not to respond to the name given to me by my father and his associates. My mother named me Drake, but Dante Reign did not deem it strong enough for a man that he hoped one day would uphold his legacy.

‘Draco’ comes from the old English term, meaning dragon. As much as I don’t want to be a monster like my father, part of me knows I will never escape the reputation he left behind. The citizens of Edinburgh feared him. So on some level, I kept true to the name and took on the mantle of being “The Dragon”. Someone the citizens and criminals of the city would either fear or respect.

Shado nervously paces behind me as I peruse through the information flashing across the screen of my computer.

Adrien. There is no last name in any of the files, as if someone wiped it clean from the database. Age thirty-one. His callsign in the Special Forces was Shado. Looking at him now, I can’t picture him being a part of quiet, guerilla warlike missions. He spent twelve years in the military before getting dishonorably discharged due to espionage.

What information was he seeking?

Scrolling further down the screen, I notice something that sticks out. One of his frequent points of contacts prior to his enlistment is on my list of targets.

Turning toward him, I arch my eyebrow, questioning him, “Espionage, huh?”

“Yeah, not one of my finer moments.” He shrugs. “At least, getting caught.”

He leans against the computer desk with his arms folded across his chest.

I stay quiet for a moment, staring at him, lost in thought, trying to decide what to do with him. He knows my real identity, my secret. In thirteen years, no one has ever found out who I am and lived to talk about it.

“So, why do you do it?” His voice breaks my thoughts. “The vigilante shit? Do you get off on killing people when you could just let the cops do their job?”

His question makes me laugh. “The cops? Of Edinburgh? The ones that are just as corrupt as some of the biggest crime lords in the city?”

“You mean you?” He pauses, “So, you’re disguised as a crime lord by day, yet you kill them by night. Again, why?”

“Do you always talk this fuckin’ much?” I grit my teeth, the muscles in my jaw clenching.

Running my hands through my hair, I inhale and exhale, attempting to keep my composure. If his file is correct, and he’s as good as it says he is - aside from getting caught - I could use him for my nightly excursions.

“The dragon tattoo is a dead giveaway, man. Not very inconspicuous.”

I raise my gaze to meet his. “How many crime lords have you seen with scary animals tattooed on their skin? It’s kind of the norm around here.”

“I guess.” He grunts as he pops off the table, heading toward the steps to the first floor.

“Where are you going?” I call after him.

He turns around, staring at me. “Umm, I kind of need stitches. I don’t really feel like bleeding out tonight.” He gestures to his shoulder that is still leaking miniscule amounts of blood.

I roll my eyes.

Dramatic fucker.

“Sit.” I motion to the chair next to the desk as I grab the first aid kit out of the drawer.

He scoffs, “What, are you a doctor too?”

I snap my head in his direction.

“Do you want to go to the hospital where you’ll have to give a statement about being shot? Or would you rather it be taken care of here and not be brought into an investigation involving a quadruple homicide of four gang members?”

He slips his hoodie off before sinking down into the chair, almost sulking.

Opening the first aid kit, I prep his skin with alcohol and begin threading the string through the suture needle.

He looks at me with his eyes wide. “You’re not going to numb me first?”

Grabbing the whiskey bottle off the desk, I hold it out to him, taunting him. “Take a swig of this, pussy. You’ll be fine.”

Before he has a chance to swallow, I shove the needle through his skin, probably more forcefully than I should, but the kid is annoying as fuck.

“Fuck, man! Damn!” He sputters, whiskey falling from his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t count to three.” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, be a good boy and I’ll get you a lollipop.”

“That’s not funny.” He looks at me as though he can’t tell if I’m being serious or not.

Leaning over, I whisper in his ear, “Trust me, you don’t have the equipment I’m interested in.”

As soon as the words escape my lips, I can see him visibly relax.

This kid is going to be fun to fuck with.

I finish stitching his arm, cut the string, and before I walk off, I smack his shoulder where the freshly sewn stitches lie.

“There. All done.”

“God dammit! Fuck!” He shouts, grabbing his shoulder, “Is this how you make friends?”

My head pops up at the unfamiliar word.

Friends.

I haven’t had anyone this close in proximity to me in years aside from my employees, and I don’t consider them friends. They don’t know my secrets; they only know me as the face of Vanguard.

It’s hard to live a normal life doing what I do. For thirteen years, it’s been me.

Alone.

Allowing no one close enough for fear they were the enemy or they would get hurt just by association.

Turning around to face him, I see Shado carefully putting his hoodie back on.

“I have an offer for you.”

His curiosity piqued, he arches his eyebrow at me. “Look, I know you’re lonely and all…”

Shaking my head, I can feel the agitation boiling in my chest.

Oh, now he’s going to annoy the fuck out of me.

We’re going to kill each other.

“Be my eyes on the streets.”

Shocked, he steps back. “The Dragon needs help?”

“There is word on the street that a friend of someone I killed a long time ago is back in town. If this is true and he meets up with old colleagues, I am going to need help this time.”

The words come out of my mouth like acid. I hate even admitting I may need help, but he’s younger than me, not as haunted as I am, and I could use him to gather intel. He will just have to prove to me that I can trust him.

What’s that saying?

Two sets of eyes are better than one?

The smug look on his face tells me he is relishing the idea of me needing him.

Facing the computer and leaning on the desk with my hands, I grow impatient with his hesitation.

Regretting ever mentioning it, I rescind the offer. “Ya know, forget I fucking asked. You know where the door is.”

“You’re just going to let me walk out the door? After I know every incriminating thing about you? You sure ride fast and loose, bud.”

I drop my head, letting out an exasperated sigh before turning around to face him.

“It’s called taking calculated risks,” I say, as I turn around clenching my fists. “Do you enjoy living? Because that would end if my secret gets out.”

“Loosen up, pal.” He walks over beside me and slaps my shoulder. The light from the computer illuminates his face as his eyes search the screen before him.

I glare at where his hand lands on me. With a soft chuckle, he slowly removes his hand.

“Alright, I’m game. What do you need from me?”

Standing up straight in front of him, I fold my arms over my chest, “First, tell me all you know about Craig Demassi.”

I’ve never seen someone’s face turn ghostly white so fast who wasn’t bleeding out in front of me.

Until now.