29. Ares

29

ARES

S ilently, Ares crept behind the row of oil drums, being sure to keep as low to the ground as possible. This beat trudging around in the sewers any day.

Speaking of sewers, he could still see the decomposing rat, missing an eye, as it floated past Diesel's leg. They had been tasked with rescuing the twinky skater boy from his captors a few months ago and decided to use the sewers to gain access to where he was being held.

Even he had been tempted to turn around and head back to the jet. He was too old to be playing around in dark sewers anyway.

A searchlight from the harbor swung by his head. Ares froze, pressing his body close to the rusty metal drum, hoping that no one had spotted him. A second later, the light continued on its way.

Once he reached the back of the building, he pulled out a switchblade from his jacket pocket and proceeded to cut the plaster away from one of the windows. Once that was removed, he used the blade to jimmy open the window. Thank God for the old building's shitty craftsmanship. It must have been at least sixty years old.

This facility was lax when it came to building maintenance and security. Mind you, if the facility was being used by a bunch of gangsters, there probably weren't a lot of people crazy enough to try and break into the building anyway.

But Ares was crazy.

And they had taken the man who he loved. So that made Ares dangerous as well.

Popping open the window, he hoisted himself up and slid inside, wishing that he was twenty-two again instead of forty-seven. Fuck, when did his body become so inflexible? Well, at least he had a big dick.

That made him smile.

Whenever in doubt, always remember you got a shlong that can split a guy in two, make him see stars, and beg for mercy when you're balls deep. God, he loved being balls deep in Matteo. That man knew how to take dick.

He used to love the way Matteo gasped, grinding his teeth and quivering whenever Ares entered his sinfully delicious hole. The sounds that man would make.

Damn, now he was horny and giving himself a chub.

Well, that might add to the whole intimidation factor. "Drop your gun, or I'll split your ass in two!"

Haha. Yeah, that would make any hetero quiver in his workman's boots.

Dropping down to the floor with a groan—because, once again, he was no spring chicken—he began making his way through the darkness.

He pulled a hunting knife out of the holster he had strapped to his body and held it firm as he approached his first victim.

Without a sound, the steel from the knife cut through the man's throat without any resistance. A soft gurgle escaped the man as he clutched at his wound, not knowing what was happening.

Ares stood next to him as his body slid to the floor, eyes wide and a look of shock plastered to his face.

He kind of felt bad for the man. He hoped the guy didn't have a family waiting for him at home. But hey, this was the risk that they all took living this lifestyle. Any day could end in injury or murder. You never knew.

Once the man stopped moving, Ares continued along, searching for his next target. The crew didn't have time to do proper recon to determine how many people were in the facility, but judging by the activity taking place outside, he assumed a lot.

A noise caught his attention.

Pressing his back against the wall, Ares stood silent as footsteps approached. He had the element of surprise and wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Especially considering all of the guys he brought as backup were currently busy outside trying to save people from being abducted and sold into modern slavery. Matteo would kill him if he had told the guys to forget the victims outside and help him rescue Matteo instead. That most likely would have resulted in Ares ending up on a missing persons flyer, no doubt caused by one of Matteo's henchmen.

Mind you, if something happened to Matteo because all his backups were preoccupied with saving others, he might have to go on his own killing spree, taking out every last trafficker in this joint.

A man wearing a plastic headband to hold back his greasy black hair turned the corner and jumped when he spotted Ares standing in the shadows.

Ares didn't give the man a chance to shout. He lunged at the guy, plunging his knife into the man's heart, killing him instantly.

He watched as the life drained from the man's eyes. Another Italian who wouldn't be coming home tonight. But he didn't feel guilty. These men were monsters. They were working together to deceive and entrap men, women, and children, enslaving them into a life of servitude, sexual exploitation, and lord knows what else.

All these men deserved a knife in the heart, and once he rescued Matteo, he might entertain that idea.

He continued. Slipping through the shadows like a snake hiding in the grass.

Voices were heard up ahead. Two, possibly three.

Crouching behind some crates, Ares slid his knife back into its holster and pulled out his gun instead. A knife was great for close encounters but was pointless with long ranges.

Taking a peek over the top, Ares spotted Matteo tied to a chair, with some lanky-ass bitch standing over the top of him. The man placed a laptop on the table in front of Matteo and took a step back.

"Tell you what. While we wait, I think it's time that you properly compensated me for all those years of service working at La Maison ." The man looked down at Matteo, giving him a twisted grin.

"Compensation? How much were you thinking?" Matteo asked in that condescending tone of his.

Ares smirked.

"I'm thinking ten mill should be adequate compensation."

Matteo let out a snort. "Please. You're nowhere near that cute or talented. If memory serves me right, yours tended to curve to the left on those rare occasions that you were able to get it up onstage. I know. It's difficult. Having to perform in front of all those men. Yet, somehow Isaac and Jared and the rest of the guys never seem to have an issue… performing."

The man standing next to Matteo, who Ares assumed was Edwin, slammed his hand down on the table. Clearly, Matteo was starting to get under his skin.

Raising the gun he held, he pointed it at Matteo's head. "Banque Gérard? That was one of the banks that you used to make Maison deposits, wasn't it?"

The man was beginning to look unhinged. He cocked the hammer of the gun. "Transfer. Now."

Matteo glanced up at the man like he was bored and uninterested in the conversation they were having.

"You orchestrated all this for a few thousand bucks?" Matteo asked.

"What? No. You've got more than that in your bank accounts. I'm going to drain it all," Edwin shouted, pressing the gun to Matteo's temple.

"I don't remember you being this stupid. Did you suffer some sort of brain injury since we last saw each other?" Matteo asked, shaking his head sympathetically.

Ares found it hard not to laugh at the way the cocky Italian was talking down to his captor. Leave it to Matteo to try and piss off a man holding a gun to his head. God, he loved this guy!

"Stop stalling!" the man shouted, spit flying from his mouth.

"First off, how am I supposed to log into my account while I'm tied to my chair? Secondly, there are restrictions on how much money you can transfer online daily. Hence, you'll be lucky if you get a few thousand today, moron."

Ares held in his chuckle. That was the Matteo he loved. Strong, sassy, and smart. Oh, and sexy as fuck.

"If you want any real money, you'll have to wait until the bank opens tomorrow so that I can wire you the funds."

"That's bullshit. Rich folks like you always have exception rules built into your banking services. You're not like us regular folk. You're not going to wait until morning to access your money. No. A bitch like you always gets special treatment. So. Transfer. Money. Now."

Judging by the pissed-off look on Matteo's face, Edwin didn't fall for his bluff.

"You do realize what he'll do to you once this is all over, right?" Matteo asked, eyes locked on the screen in front of him.

"Yeah, they'll cut me a big fat check, and I'll be on my merry way."

Ares stopped moving. He? Was someone else giving this little punk orders?

Before he had a chance to process that information, he felt the cold hardness of metal press against his head.

"Stand up slowly and raise your hands," a deep voice instructed in Italian behind him.

So much for having the upper hand. Damn it.

Ares did as he was told.

The man behind him took Ares's gun while a second man patted him down.

Damn it! Ares huffed as the man pulled the knife Ares had hidden out from his holster. The man nodded to his boss and took a step back.

"Move," the man with his gun ordered, directing him toward the group arguing in the center of the room.

Matteo's eyes locked on his. Ares gave him a guilty half smile. Okay, he had fucked up and now needed to figure out how to save both of their asses.

"Ha!" the man shouted, still holding the gun at Matteo's head. "You came! You actually fell for it."

Matteo shook his head in disappointment.

"Yeah, I came. I wouldn't exactly say that I fell for it . You pretty much sent out a beacon telling me where to find you. Any common criminal would have realized that it was a trap," Ares explained, annoyed that the bumbling idiot thought that he had pulled a fast one over on him.

He was Ares! The fucking god of war . He had evaded capture in over twenty countries—remaining off most countries' radars. He had escaped three detention centers and even avoided capture on an outbound flight from Paris to Geneva. That was actually an interesting story.

And here this little dipshit was thinking that he had fooled Ares? Talk about a moron.

"Well, we did get you to reveal yourself," a coarse voice murmured behind Ares.

Ares's stomach sank.

Fuck .

While he'd been so busy and focused on Matteo, he'd lost sight of the one man who had been hunting him for years. The one man who'd tried to kill him once but failed.

Massimo Alessio Zitti.

The guy was a legend back in the day. He controlled the gun and coke trades all across Italy, Spain, Belgium, and Portugal. He used local gangs and mafia heads to run his operations in those regions in his name. Anyone who tried to betray him, he had brutally murdered. His punishments were severe, striking fear in all those around him.

Except for Ares, of course.

When Ares was young, he had been ambitious. He had the intelligence, the balls, and the drive to go after what he wanted and expand his control over many different smuggling routes. But all that would only take him so far.

Knowing that he was at a disadvantage because of his age, Ares needed help getting introduced to those who could make a difference. He needed access to the big players in the game.

So, against his better judgment, he decided to enlist the help of Matteo's father, who he knew had many powerful friends across Europe.

Ares knew that if he could score some of those major regions, especially Italy and Spain, he could double his profits and increase his dominion over the gun smuggling trade.

Sadly, at the time, Ares had underestimated the loyalty of the one person he trusted—his brother.

Massimo Zitti used Ares's blind spot against him, nearly having Ares killed in the process.

It appeared that Massimo had exploited Ares's weakness once again. This time, using the man who he loved—Matteo—to distract him.

Ares had dropped his guard, leaving himself exposed and vulnerable.

Angry at his failed attempt at eliminating his competition, Massimo spent the next several years trying to locate and kill Ares. But by then, Ares had amassed enough wealth and power to make it virtually impossible for Massimo to get anywhere near him.

Smart man having Ares come to him instead.

Slowly, Ares turned to face his nemesis.

"So, I take it this location was also your idea?" Ares asked.

Massimo nodded. "I knew that you would bring an army with you. So I figured I would keep them all distracted with that little trafficking scheme we got going on outside. I knew that you would order your men to rescue those people while you came in here… alone… searching for your… puttana ."

Hearing Massimo refer to Matteo as a "whore" in Italian made Ares's blood boil. How dare this geriatric fuckhead talk so disrespectfully about his man.

"You're a hard man to get to. And it took me a very long time to find the one thing that could take you down."

Ares glanced back at Matteo.

The walls were coming down all around him. Everything he had spent his life hiding and protecting was now being brought forward and about to be revealed.

Attachments were a weakness. Love could be exploited. Family was a liability.

Ares has spent so many years carefully crafting the perfect image. The perfect persona. One that inspired fear and loyalty. Now, with all his secrets being exposed, Ares could feel his power, his control… slipping away.

He needed to act now while he still had a chance.

"Don't worry, Matté. We'll get out of here in no time. There's a reason that this man is no longer relevant," Ares goaded, smirking as he made eye contact with the man in his seventies. "Last I checked, all your former territory now belongs to… me ." Ares shrugged his shoulders as if the information didn't matter to him.

The man was no longer relevant and even he knew that. This was a last-ditch effort to fuck over the man who had taken so much from him over the years. Italians and their pride. They will spend a lifetime seeking revenge, even if it's the last act they ever commit.

"Isn't that right… Massimo ?"

Snarling, Massimo ground his teeth and glared at Ares.

"Oh, wait. Sorry, I was wrong. You still hold Sicily. That was my gift to you. I didn't want to take your home… your livelihood, from you. I figured that wasn't nice to do to an old man, especially in his sunset years. I figured I'd let you ride out the last of your days here, keep some of your dignity, then once you finally kick the bucket, I'd swoop in here and take the last of your territory as well."

Ares gave the man the cockiest smirk he could muster. Even if the guy were to shoot him in the face right now, he would still die a happy man.

Massimo was seething.

After the attempt on his life, Ares spent the following years ripping each and every territory that the Zitti family owned away from them. The war was bloody and raged on for years. Ares hijacked smuggling routes, using pirates to steal Massino's cargo, making Massimo look unreliable and incompetent. Ares arranged attacks on Massimo's men, giving rise to rumors that the Zitti family could no longer protect its crew. Those dumb enough to attempt to stand up to Ares were made examples of in the most horrific acts of violence. Those were the years that earned Ares the reputation that he currently held.

Now, Ares controlled a third of the world's gun smuggling trade. Given his extensive connections, he also dabbled in a bit of the drug trade, helping the O'Brien crew in New Jersey and a few other gangs he supplied guns to move product or open channels that they might not have been able to access had they not known Ares. But in the end, Ares's main bread and butter were guns.

Pain exploded in Ares's jaw. He stumbled backward, dropping to one knee before realizing that the fucker had whacked him in the face with the butt of his gun.

What fucking pussy does that?!

Ares was pissed.

He spit blood out of his mouth and watched as his DNA stained the concrete. He would have to burn this place down before he left. There couldn't be any traces of his DNA left behind at this massacre scene.

Oh yes, there was going to be a glorious murdering rampage!

Laughing, Ares wiped his lip, then stood. He brushed his hair back away from his eyes, being sure to take his time to breathe. He needed to stay in control of his emotions.

Emotions led to anger, and anger led to mistakes. And Ares didn't make mistakes. This was why he had stayed off the authorities' radars for so long. He was calm and calculating. Never acting on impulse or out of anger or frustration.

"I'll give you one cheap shot because you're old, and I stole your livelihood." Ares wiped his lip and stared down at the blood on his finger.

Were people really living if they didn't bleed from time to time?

"Ares, stop mouthing off," Matteo mumbled.

Next to Matteo, the pipsqueak with the gun stood watching the entertainment unfold. Apparently, Edwin had forgotten about the fortune he was supposed to be stealing from Matteo.

Two of Massimo's henchmen grabbed hold of Ares and dragged him to where Matteo was sitting. One pulled out a chair while the other pushed Ares down by the head.

"Hey there, Matté. Fancy meeting you here," Ares greeted, giving his love the cockiest smile.

Matteo shook his head in disbelief.

"You shouldn't have come."

"Bah," Ares huffed. "And let you have all the fun with these no-name, has-beens? How does that sound fair?"

Ares couldn't help but notice the tiny smile Matteo was struggling to keep from surfacing.

Try all you like. You know you love it that I came to rescue you.

"Any last words?" Massimo asked, interrupting the tender moment Ares was having with Matteo.

Oh, yeah. These fucknuts are still here.

Ares stared up at the man who had spent so much of his fortune trying to exact his revenge on the man who had continually fucked him at every turn.

Years of unsuccessful murder attempts finally coming to a close. The man must feel good about himself. Now Massimo could die… or retire… a happy man.