“Another Vitali?”

“Another Vitali,” Angelo confirmed.

Mark had taken Damien to bed. The man was exhausted, and they were only getting started with him. He would need his rest to endure what Angelo had planned, days and days of erotic training, designed to break him down until he was horrified at the very idea of ever having tried to cross Angelo.

“Four of us,” Bobby complained. “It’s starting to get crowded. And everyone keeps ranking above me. It’s not fair. I was here first, I should have seniority.”

Angelo took Bobby’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and gazed deep into his eyes. “I need you to hear me, Bobby, and understand what I’m about to say.”

Bobby curled up against Angelo’s chest and gazed into his eyes.

“You saved me, boy. When I needed you, you were there. Don’t ever think you’re less than these others. You’re my heart. And I know, one of these days, you’re going to take me out.”

Angelo kissed Bobby deeply. “We’ve come a long way, boy, and there’s a lot further to go, but no matter how many men we recruit, you’re the first among them. You’re my boy. Understand?”

Bobby smiled and nuzzled under Angelo’s chin. Angelo smiled.

“You are the first among all my men. I may put Mark in charge now. I may even find a use for Damien at some point. But that is for good reason, boy. I want you raised right. I want you having the influence of these men around you, so when it comes time for you to take my place - however that happens, you’ll be ready. Understand?”

Bobby nodded a little. “I just don’t know if I should believe you or not.”

“That’s always the difficulty,” Angelo smiled. “But believe me, boy. You have a long future ahead of you. You…”

BLAM!

A gun shot echoed through the room. Angelo dived, taking Bobby with him, protecting him in his arms. Fortunately, the heavy oak desk was between them and their assailant. As Angelo dropped he saw Damien standing in the doorway, his arms raised in a shooter’s stance.

Bobby tried to wriggle out of Angelo’s grip, go for his gun, but Angelo pinned him on the carpet. “Stay down,” he insisted. He knew Mark wouldn’t be far behind Damien, and he was right.

A second later, Mark tackled Damien from behind and a struggle ensued, their muscular bodies rolling in desperate attempts to wrestle the gun from one another.

“Let it go!” Mark shouted. “Don’t be fucking stupid!”

“Stop it!” Damien screamed back. “I have to do this!”

“No you don’t! Let it go!”

It was going to end badly. Someone was going to get hurt. Angelo dragged Bobby away behind the desk as far as possible to reduce the chances it was one of them who caught the nearly inevitable bullet.

BLAM!

The gun went off again. Angelo didn’t see who it hit, but he saw blood spraying instantly across the room as if a paint bomb had been detonated. Except this was bright arterial blood, and when he put his head up, he saw that it was gushing from Damien’s mid-section.

Angelo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Mark tried to staunch the flow of blood, but there was too much. How had this all gone so wrong so quickly? One moment he was in the bathroom trying to take a shit, the next Damien was gone.

“Again,” Damien coughed blood. “That’s the second time…I’ve been hurt after a blowjob.” He tried to force a smile. “I think they’re bad… luck.”

“Why did you do that?” Mark’s eyes filled with tears. He knew he was losing the most beautiful thing in the world, for a stupid, pointless reason. The rag he had pushed to Damien’s stomach was soaking through and the color was draining from Damien’s face. It all happened so quickly. In seconds, Damien went from someone just as strong and powerful as Mark to a limp, nearly lifeless mass of meat on the floor.

“He has to die, Mark,” Damien whispered, his final breath hoarse and pained.

Mark collapsed on Damien’s body, his flesh wracked with a kind of misery he couldn’t begin to express except in a low keening cry which echoed off the walls. This couldn’t be how this ended. Damien had been making fucking pasta a few hours ago. If he’d just let Bobby go, Damien would still be there, in the kitchen, making that goddamn shitty pasta he insisted on putting tomato sauce on.

“Mark…” Angelo stood up across the room.

His voice sent Mark into an almost immediate rage. He wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking at all. He was just so damn angry.

“You did this,” Mark snarled, his face coated in Damien’s blood. “You killed him.”

The gun was still on the ground. It still had bullets in it. Damien was right. Angelo did deserve to die. It was only right. It….

“Not so fast, boy.” Angelo strode across the room and stood on the back of Mark’s arm, crushing it before he could pick up the gun. It fucking hurt like hell, but Mark didn’t care.

“I’m sorry he died,” Angelo said, his voice cool and calm. “He was a brave man and that was a waste, but it was what he came here to do.”

“Let’s get the rug rolled up before his blood soaks into the floorboards,” Bobby said, immediately practical. “Disposal is already on their way.” Bobby pushed past Mark, ignoring him and his pained arm. There was work to be done, and it was clear that Bobby had never given a single shit about Damien in the first place.

Just like that, a man’s life had ended. A man Mark had loved, or at least, really wanted to love. Angelo retrieved the gun and moved off Mark’s arm.

Mark was left sitting on the floor, coated in blood and cradling his arm as Bobby started rolling Damien’s still warm body over and over into a corpse burrito.