One of my men pulled out a chain taken from one of our docks. A heavy one, one that helped anchor our haulage boats. The chain fell at my feet, and a bloke was dragged into the pit, a black hessian bag over his head. One of my soldiers kicked away his legs and tossed him to the ground. The prick fell, and then pulled off the bag. He snapped his head back and forth, trying to figure out where he was. Then his eyes latched on to me, and the blood drained from his face.
“Mr Adley.” He scurried backwards on his arse like the fucking rat he was. I lit a cig and exhaled the smoke into the air.
“You told the Yakuza where one of my ships would be coming from.” The twat on the ground started shaking his head, but one look at his trembling bottom lip told me he was guilty. That and the fucking voice recording of his phone call with Hiro, the leader of the Yakuza, that Ronnie had secured. “And they sank the ship, and all of the gear that was being smuggled inside it and took the deal instead.”
I nodded at Ronnie, and she came to the lip of the pit. She pulled out her mobile and played the scumbag’s voice for all my witnesses to hear.
“Arthur,” the twat said, then smacked his own head like a bloody psycho. “I fucked up. I really fucked up. Please …” I circled him, smelling the fucking stench of lies and fear slipping off his sweat-laden skin.
I held out my arms. “You were an Adley. Protected by our name.” I pointed at his ugly fucking mug. “You should have worn our name with pride. Instead you shat on it. You fucking pissed on everything we are when you sold us out to Hiro and his men.” The wanker shook his head, but I didn’t want to hear fuck-all else from his mouth. If I had to hear anymore, I’d sew the fucker shut. The fire in my blood was already boiling, the evil inside me salivating for the kill, whispering to me to begin.
I looked at Seamus, Royal, Vano and their men, then finally at Cheska, who was sitting on the edge of her seat. I put my cig between my fingers, spread my arms wide, and said, “This is the Adley Court!” Charlie nodded in approval; he lived for this shit as much as I did. Vinnie bounced on his fucking seat, laughing, waiting for the blood to spill. Freddie watched with a quiet smirk on his face, and Eric clapped his hands in the air. “Where traitors are tried. And they fight for their lives.”
I turned and addressed the shitstain on the already blood-drenched sand. “Dennis Short,” I said loudly, my voice carrying around the pit and the empty warehouse. “Welcome to the Adley Court. You have been charged with being a traitor.” The fucker flinched. “An Adley’s word is his bond. A bond you have broken. And I am here to collect.”
I stopped right in front of the sniffling wanker and bent down. I pushed the end of my cig against his forehead and watched the fucker cry out. Straightening, I let the anger frothing inside me burst free.
“Mr Adley, please,” Dennis the rat begged from his knees.
“Choose your weapon,” I said, gesturing to the table filled with weapons.
Dennis whipped his head in that direction. “Arthur, please …”
“One more fucking word and I’ll cut off your tongue,” I warned, and at least the fucker was switched on enough to shut his fat trap. “Choose a fucking weapon, then face me.” Dennis shook his head. “You turned against us. Now you’ll fucking dance with the devil.” I pointed at my chest. “Meet the fucking devil.” I picked up the chain at my feet. The metal was heavy in my hand, and my dick got hard at the ache in my muscles, at the fact that blood was about to be spilled at my feet.
Dennis ran to the table and picked up a long metal pole. I sparked up another cig, letting the nicotine keep me from just killing this prick outright. He needed to pay. The men around me needed to see that when it came to London, it was my fucking town. Everyone else was just a tenant. The minute anyone stepped out of line, they’d be evicted.
The cig hung from my bottom lip as I pushed my hair back from my eyes. The low light of the pit reflected off my glasses. I started swinging the end of the chain in small circles. Dennis’s jaw dropped as I began to circle him too.
He held the pole like a fucking lifeline. I lifted my hand and, with my fingers still on the chain, beckoned him to strike. I saw the moment the rat decided to fight. I saw the gritting of his teeth and the tightening of his grip around the pole. He charged at me, pole in the air. When I drew close, he brought it down toward me. I stepped out of the way and, swinging the chain, slammed the heavy metal against his back, smirking when I heard a rib crack.