Shattered Prince

A man sat tied to a chair. Mal loomed over him like a monster. He must’ve rushed over from Oscar’s motel room before Iago found me. Jules stayed near the door as I walked over and looked down at the battered, angry-looking man.

It was Cezary. I couldn’t believe it. The big beast was tied to a steel chair. His nose looked like it’d been broken and his eye was bruised shut. He glared at me with pure hate but said nothing.

“How’s our guest doing?” I asked Mal.

He shrugged. “Alive. For now.”

“And Nervosa?”

“Sends his best.” Mal nodded at a cluster of soldiers standing near the loading door. “His men.”

“What are they waiting around for?”

“Don’t know.”

I nodded. If they were waiting, that meant they wanted to see how this played out so they could report back to their boss. That was fine—I didn’t plan on keeping anything from the Oligarch. I wasn’t that stupid.

I leaned toward Cezary and caught his eye.

“Seems like you’re fucked,” I said.

He smiled, showing red gums. Someone had hit him in the face nice and hard. “Seems like you can eat shit and die.”

I smiled sadly and shook my head. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

He said nothing.

I paced around him. Cezary was a big, dangerous man. It was easy to feel superior with him tied to a chair like this, but I shouldn’t underestimate his strength. So far, he’d proven himself cunning and dangerous, and his men were extremely loyal. Those were impressive and important qualities in a crime lord. The only reason I’d gotten him so easily was because an Oligarch got involved, which he couldn’t have guessed would happen. An Oligarch was like an act of nature or God—unpredictable and overwhelming.

Mal tapped his baton against his elbow, glaring death.

“From my perspective, you have two choices,” I said, stopping in front of Cezary again. “You’d better listen, because I don’t know how long Mal’s going to stand there without hurting you.”

Cezary stared at me with darkness in his eyes. He said nothing.

“First option is simple. You keep playing the hard-ass. You don’t say a word. In that case, Mal beats the shit out of you and we start cutting off fingers until you can’t stop saying whatever the hell we want to hear. That’s not ideal for everyone, but it wouldn’t be the worst result.”

To his credit, Cezary only nodded like he’d expected that. “And the other option?”

“The other option is, we make a deal.”

He seemed surprised. His head tilted to the side. “You want to cut a deal?”

“I’m not opposed to working things out in a mutually beneficial way. See, you’re not the real problem here. You’re just a symptom of the greater disease.”

Cezary tilted his chin back, staring at me from hooded eyes. “And that would be Balestra.”

“Exactly. You’re a problem. You’ve done some things that we’re not happy about. But you’re not the root issue, if you understand me. So far, there’s nothing we can’t come back from.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mal grunted, frowning. “He fucked up my wedding.”

“Ah, that shit was all for show, anyway,” I said, waving him off. “But Mal’s got a point. I killed your cousin and you attacked Mal’s wedding. Those things feel equivalent to me.”

Cezary glared, breathing deep and slow. “Murdering my cousin and interrupting a wedding are not the same thing.”

“Agree to disagree then. My point is, we can work together. I’m not unreasonable.”

I let that hang in the air for a few moments. Cezary watched me like he was trying to figure out if he could trust me or not. But the truth was, he had no other choice. He could hold out as long as he wanted, but eventually Mal would make him talk. We’d get him singing, extract all his information, then put a bullet in his head.

Cutting a deal was the only way he walked out of this place alive.

“If I were to make a deal, what would that entail?”

I smiled pleasantly. Cezary was violent and ruthless, but apparently he wasn’t a moron.

“Here’s what I’m thinking. Balestra controls a good chunk of northern San Antonio. I can’t let you have all of that, but we’ll carve out a nice little kingdom. Give you something to work with, at any rate. You’ll control your territory and run it as you see fit, and we’ll consider ourselves allies. If I need your help, you’ll come help. If you need something, you can come and ask. We’ll work together.”

Mal shifted from side to side and I could tell he didn’t like it. That was Mal’s problem—things were too black and white. He was rigid in his thinking and couldn’t forgive when mercy was the better option. Sometimes, cutting a deal made more sense than fighting to the death. Everyone profited that way.

“You want to set me up as a client,” Cezary said slowly, his face twitching between anger and calm. “You want to flip me against Balestra and get me to work for you. Is that about right?”