Chapter 7

Salvatore

That single encounter with the boy raised every red flag in my book. Why had I said the things I did? I wasn't a conversationalist and had no time or desire to share my feelings with anyone, especially not my "prisoner." Michael wasn't the offender, but he was still a victim, not my confidant or friend. Yet, I felt vulnerable around him… free. Free to express myself. The boy seemed to like that. Maybe that's why I did it. Either way, I began to look forward to our daily interactions.

As for my interactions with Ryan, those were different. Over the next few days, I gave him increasingly dangerous tasks—a high-stakes exchange one night, a surveillance operation on a rival gang the next. Each task pushed him further, testing his limits and loyalty.

I watched him closely, noting the fatigue in his eyes and the way his hands sometimes shook. He was being worn down, and I took satisfaction in that. He was paying for making me capture and hurt his brother, making me look like the bad guy to Michael.

I am the bad guy.

Today was different, though. I needed someone who wouldn't raise suspicion. I could've hired a professional, but I needed someone with Ryan's desperation and determination.

As I stood by my decision, I couldn't shake off a nagging doubt. Why was I really doing this? The truth was, Michael had started to affect me. His presence stirred feelings I hadn't felt in years—feelings I couldn't afford in my line of work.

Using Ryan wasn't just about an untraceable face. If Ryan succeeded, it would prove his worth and end this dangerous game. But if he failed… Michael would be left vulnerable, dependent on me. Maybe, subconsciously, that's what I wanted.

I called Ryan into my study, watching as he walked in with a hardened look. "This next job," I began, "Is the most critical one yet. If you pull it off, you're done. You'll be free."

He looked at me, doubt flickering in his eyes. "What's the catch?"

Good question. He's not that stupid.

"No catch. Just do as you're told." I said, sliding the file toward him. "Infiltrate the port, bypass security, and extract the shipment. You'll have everything you need for it."

Ryan's eyes widened as he skimmed the contents. "Canada? This is suicide," he muttered, looking up at me. "Why me? You have other men who can do this."

I leaned back in my chair, watching him with a calculated gaze. "No one will recognize you, Ryan, and I trust you won't escape the country with my money."

He looked away, clearly wrestling with his emotions. "And if I get caught? If I die?"

"You won't," I replied coolly. "You're too smart for that. But if you do, at least you'll die knowing your brother is safe... with me."

He nodded, understanding the weight of his mission. "Can I have that in writing? In case things go wrong."

How would you claim that then? I almost chuckled. "Yes. You can."

"Fine," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "I'll do it. Can I say goodbye to him?"

"You may do so tomorrow morning." I watched him leave with a certain peace. The same peace I was struggling to feel.

—-------

Later that evening, I found myself drawn to Michael's room again. It wasn't just routine anymore; it was something I looked forward to, despite my better judgment. I opened the door and found him sitting on the bed, looking lost in thought.

"Vincent," he greeted me, his voice soft, almost relieved.

"I brought you something to eat," I said, setting a tray down.

He took the tray, his hands trembling slightly. "Thank you." As he looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, I couldn't help but brush his face with the back of my hand. Unlike what I anticipated, he leaned into my touch for a second, gently caressing my fingers with his, before awkwardly looking away.

W hy the hell does he do this? These were the little things that took me aback.

He ate some of his dinner and hesitated. "How is my brother?"

"He's doing a good job, Michael."

"But is he… safe?"

His eyes showed so much worry and love that I lied. "Ryan is safe. You have nothing to worry about."

We sat in silence as he ate, the tension between us almost tangible. I watched him closely, trying to decipher the feelings that stirred within me.

"You know," I began, breaking the silence. "You make me break my own rules."

He looked up, curiosity in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "In this line of work, I can't afford to open up to anyone. It's a liability. But you... you're different."

He seemed to ponder my words. "Why? What makes me different?"

"I wish I knew," I replied honestly. "There's something about you I can't quite understand. You make me feel... things. Things I'd rather not feel."

He finished his meal and set the tray aside, his gaze never leaving mine. "Is that why you're nice to me sometimes? Because of these feelings?"

I nodded. "Partly. But it's also because of the way you give yourself to me."

We lapsed into silence again, but this time it was less tense, more contemplative. I moved closer, unable to resist the beauty I saw in him.

"Why did you let this happen?" he asked suddenly. "Why did you let Ryan get in debt to you?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I'm a businessman. Most desperate men who come to me will hang themselves given enough rope. Ryan was no different."

Michael bit his lip, his eyes searching mine for answers. "You confuse me, Vincent. One moment you're... almost kind, the next you're cold and calculating."

I couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Welcome to my world, Michael. It's a constant battle between good and evil."

He looked down, his fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. "I don't want to be afraid of you."

"I don't want that either," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "But fear is sometimes necessary. It keeps us alive."

He looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "What do you want from me, then?"

I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. "I want you to trust me. To believe that maybe there's a part of me that wants to protect you."

Michael reached out, his hand trembling as it touched mine. "Can you? Protect me, I mean."

I covered his hand with mine, the warmth of his touch grounding me. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."

Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss. It was soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepened as our emotions took over. When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the space between us.

"This is dangerous," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

"I know," he replied, his fingers gently running through my hair. "Guess Ryan isn't the only one making bad decisions."

And at this moment, I knew he wasn't.