Ruthless Spring

And he’d become the crocodile, always ready to bite me with his sharp teeth.

A foe of sorts.

"I'm sure Winter would miss me too," I say, watching him closely. The change is small, almost unnoticeable, but it's there. His jaw clenches, his leg jumps the slightest fraction, and his hands are turning white from his hold on the wheel.

"You're still supposed to be staying away from her," he says, trying to keep his tone even, but there's a slight waver.

"Key words being supposed to, Bianchi. I don't do a lot of things I'm supposed to do; flossing, taking my shoes off at the door, fucking only one gender-"

"Maximo."

My smile is automatic at his tone. It feeds some part of me, making people angry, making them want to hit me, hurt me, even kill me. Because the chances of them succeeding is even slimmer than a snowball lasting in hell.

"If you go near Winter again, I'll make sure that your next trip to the basement is a special one."

My body tenses and my heart skips ever so slightly, the sliver of fear unwelcome. I stare at the side of Vito's face, and this time I'm the one clenching my hands, allowing my nails to dig into my palms.

"Is that a threat, Bianchi?"

He pulls the car to a stop and from our surroundings, I know we're at the meet, but I don't care. I keep my gaze aimed squarely at Vito, waiting for him to respond. He cuts the engine, turning to look at me, his eyes hard. His lips are pressed into a firm line. "It's not a threat, Maximo, it's a fucking promise." He climbs out of the car before I can respond.

My body is hot and my hands are itching for a fight. But instead of allowing myself to succumb to my urges, I climb out of the car and stuff my hands into my pockets.

Vito's time will come.

It feels like I've had the mantra going on in my head for over a decade now, but I can feel the time winding down, especially with Winter in the picture. Sooner, rather than later, Vito Bianchi is going to find himself on the other end of my barrel.

I watch him as he glides up to the door of the warehouse. His steps are confident, his stride long, and he knows, just as well as I do, how insulting it is to turn his back to me after his remarks.

Just like he knows I let him breathe because of Giovanni.

I move by him, allowing my shoulder to slam into his as I glide up to the door. I ram my hand against the steel door before looking up into the camera tucked into the corner above the door. There's a momentary pause before the lock audibly clicks. I pull the door open, not bothering to hold it open for Vito, who remains silent.

The heat of the warehouse is the first thing that invades my senses, followed closely by harsh chemical smells. The echo of something slamming bounces off the walls of the narrow hallway before a short man appears.

His bald head is tattooed just as heavily as his muscular arms, but I know the appearance hides the scared little man inside. He moves toward us, trying to look confident, but I don't miss the way his eyes flick to the visible gun at my waist before moving behind me to Vito.

"Vito, Maximo," he says, offering us a smile. I don't return it. His face falls and he rubs at the back of his neck. "You're ahead of time," he says after a moment.

"Yes, but that's not important, is it?" I ask, raising a brow. "It doesn't matter if we come at 5 am or pm, you should always have our numbers ready."

"Of course," he says quickly, bowing his head slightly and gesturing for us to follow him. "Right this way."

Vito and I follow, our dispute in the car and ever-present hostility fading to the background for now. We'll be all business until we step out of here.

We make it to a door and Adam turns as he pulls on a gas mask before pointing to the spares by the door. Vito takes one, pulling it over his head but I don't bother. They're merely precautions in case the wrong chemicals get combined in the lab and a biohazard mix up occurs.

But this is one lab that won’t be fucking anything up for fear of having to deal with the family.

Adam pauses for a moment, and I see a flicker of irritation on Vito's face from under his mask, but I ignore it. Adam opens the door, and we step inside. There's smoke in the air and the smell of chemicals is even harsher here. There's over two dozen people working in hazmat suits. A few peer at us before quickly looking away.

Adam strides through the aisle of people, walking to the back where there's a desk. I know it's where he oversees the work going on. It isn't uncommon for people to try and steal off the floor, thinking if they pinch a little coke or meth here and there, no one will notice.

We always notice.

A couple of bricks of Coke lie on the desk but this isn't the entire supply. They're kept elsewhere, waiting for pickup. These are purely for our meet today. Adam picks up a brick, handing it to Vito, who turns it over and peers at it.

"As you can see, production is going smoothly," Adam says with a wide smile that quickly disappears when I glare at him. I take the brick from Vito, weighing it in my hands. It feels dense enough, but the color is slightly off. It's not something that most would notice, but my brother wouldn't risk me coming to this meet if I didn't have the best eye for this shit.