Without Felony the club feels empty. It’s only been two days, but they’ve been two really fucking shitty days.

My body’s all itchy and my gut is in a permanently twisted knot that tightens by the minute. I can’t focus on anything. I forget to eat. I’m even sweating for no reason at the most inappropriate times. I feel like I’m going through Sophia withdrawals.

I’m probably just getting sick.

Or—fuck my stupid life—falling in—nope, I’m not saying it. She’s gone and that’s it. This isn’t the life she deserves.

Maybe I just miss her. Want to be inside her again. It’s not just being inside her, though. It’s more than that. A lot more.

“I’m gonna get right to the point,” Tony says, holding up a small pair of gardening shears. I’m not really paying much attention to what he’s saying. Focus. I have to fucking focus. When Tony Fretolli holds up gardening shears, you should be paying close attention to what he’s rambling on about. “I’m going to snip the tip of your dick off every time you lie to me, okay?”

“No! No! Why are you doing this?” a deep voice pleads.

“Corey, take his dick out,” Tony says to me, pointing the sharp tool in my direction.

Wait. What? Why is it always me?

“Me? Why me? I don’t want to touch his dick.” What if this asshole has some sort of wart-infested one-eyed pus-filled rumpleforeskin thing happening down there. I ain’t touching that shit.

Niko Jakov struggles against his wire ties, sweat leaking from every pore on his face. His eyes shoot to mine in frantic terror. “No, no. Corrado, don’t. Don’t listen to him.”

“Niko. Niko. NeeeeeeKooooo,” Tony attempts to talk in a heavy Russian accent. I laugh because it’s funny and he sounds a lot like the Terminator. “Niko. Jakov. Jaaaaa. Koooooooov.” Tony’s glance darts up to me then back down to Niko. “Anybody ever tell you your last name sounds like Jack-off? Niko Jackoff.” He snips the shears in the air as he speaks. “Niko Jackoff-too-much.”

Tony is jerking off the shears now like it’s his own dick. I’m finding it awkwardly funny and I wish I could take out my cell and record it. But then Tony would probably be threatening to snip off the tip of my dick next.

“Why are you doing this to me, Tony?” Niko’s face is stark white, pleading.

“Come on, Corrado, just take his dick out. Unzip him at least,” Tony says, gesturing to Niko’s pants.

I shrug and chuckle. “Shouldn’t he buy me dinner before we get to third base?” I’ll unzip him but I ain’t touching no skin.

Tony doesn’t seem to find me as hilarious as I find myself. I shake my head and yank down the front of the man’s pants at Tony’s knees. He’s not wearing any underwear and I vomit a bit in my mouth. “Niko, man. You don’t have much to work with here. You better tell him what he wants to know.”

“Wha…What…What does he want to know?” Jackoff stammers.

Tony starts pacing in front of him, opening the shears and snapping them closed, again and again. Metal scraping against metal, long and sharp, then SNAP! Making Jackoff cringe in his chair each time.

I lean back against the wall, watching. Waiting for the answers Tony needs.

He stops dead center in front of Jackoff and points the shears down, the sharp tips of the blades nicking into the wood of the chair between Jackoff’s knees.

“I’ll tell you anything. Anything,” Niko cries.

I’m not sure Tony is even listening anymore, he’s just torturing the guy, snipping the sheers and opening them, getting closer and closer to his dick each time.

Jackoff’s eyes get wider and wider and he’s trying to press his body frantically back into the chair to get away from the sharp silver of the garden blades.

“Why’d you kill my guys?” Tony asks, pausing for a moment.

“Kill what guys?” Niko actually looks confused. I pull away from the wall and step forward, getting a closer look at his expression.

Well now.

He doesn’t look like he has any idea what Tony’s talking about.

“My guys,” Tony explains, slicing the shears closed and ripping Niko’s pants. “Franco. Carmine. Paulie. John. Junior.”

“I didn’t kill any of your guys, Tony.” His voice doesn’t even shake.

“I’m not really believing in your words right now, Jackoff.” Tony shrugs pushing the shears right up to the guy’s shriveled-up junk.

“I didn’t kill anyone, Tony,” he grunts through clenched teeth.

“Five of my guys are dead, Niko. And I know you and your little Russian gang are the ones who did it.” Tony’s eyes are wild now. He really believes Jackoff and his men pulled the hit. He must not be telling me everything—he must have real proof that he ain’t showing us—but what the fuck could it be? “You and your guys ain’t ever taking over our territory. I’m not even sure you’re ever even walking out of my club alive.”

“Tony, no, no. Why you pinning that shit on—”

The rest coming from his mouth are incomprehensible screams. I guess Tony didn’t want to hear any more because he just snaps the shears closed on the tip of Niko’s dick. Niko’s eyes screw shut and he just howls in absolute agony.

I never heard anything like it before.

And like the sick fuck he is, Tony lifts the tool up to Niko’s face and shows him his own flesh, still stuck wetly to the metal. Vomit splatters out of his mouth, dripping in long dark streaks down the front of his shirt. Instantly, a dark red stain spreads across the legs of his pants and his head just lolls to the side limply as he passes out.

Tony takes a deep annoyed breath. “It’s never like it is in the movies, you know? Real life’s full of pussies who pass out with the slightest sliver of pain.”

Slightest sliver of pain? He just sliced the tip of some guy’s knob off and he wanted more of a dramatic display of suffering. Jesus.

He covers his mouth with the crook of his elbow. “And he smells like shit.”

His eyes dart around the room quickly. I can tell he’s trying to plan something in his head. “What the fuck are you looking for,” I ask.

He’s pulling open drawers and rummaging through shelves. “I need something to wake the son-of-a-bitch up. I need him talking.”

I start looking along with him, but neither of us finds anything.

Tony slaps him until his cheeks are streaked red with handprints but he still doesn’t wake up.

I don’t blame Niko. I wouldn’t wake up either. What guy would want to with the tip of their dick gone?

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door followed by a small click and Enzo walks in, nodding toward me. “Got something for you,” he grunts, taking in the scene in front of him. He doesn’t even bat an eye, it’s not the first time he’s seen something like this, not by a long shot. He actually smiles wickedly.

“Looks like Tony’s having some fun for himself.” There’s a big manila envelope clutched in his hand and the moment I lay eyes on it I want to yank it out of his hands and rip it open.

“Hey, Tone? Give a few minutes?” I say, glancing at Tony with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yeah. Enzo, you stay down here with me. I need to wake this pussy up. You know how to wake up a sleeping pussy?” Tony says, laughing.

I close the door behind me and lock it, not even waiting to see how the hell Tony’s going to get the guy conscious again. I don’t care. All I care about it what’s inside the folder.

Sofia Monroe.

That’s who’s inside the folder.

Well, not her chopped up or anything, but whatever Enzo could find on her name, her background. Enzo’s the best at that stuff. Following people and getting a background check on them without using anything traceable. The envelope is too thin to be happy about but my hands are itching to open it.

I climb the stairs two at a time. I don’t want to be interrupted by Niko screaming when Tony wakes him up. And believe me, if Tony wants it, Niko is getting up.

I burst through the basement door and Carlo’s gun is on me instantly. “Fucking hell. You douchebag,” he says shaking his head and lowering his weapon back into his waistband. “I almost killed you. What the hell are you blasting through the door like that for?”

I hold up the envelope. “Just need to get this open. Hey? Tony needs something to wake up Jackoff. You got anything that smells or something?”

“Who the fuck is Jackoff?”

“Jakov. Niko Jakov?” I laugh. “That’s what Tony’s calling him down there. Well he was until he passed out from pain. Tony just snipped the top of his dick off with a pair of gardening shears.”

“Oh shit!” he laughs. “Seriously?” He rubs at the back of his neck and chuckles more. “Yeah, yeah. I think I got something,” he mumbles as he jogs toward the bar and I head in the opposite direction for some privacy.

The first room I hit is the lounge and I sit on one of the couches, the same one Felony—Sophia—and I fooled around on, and tear open the package. I feel sick, my stomach rolling in waves of nerves—what if he found nothing—or worse, what if he found out something that goes against Tony and the family?

Enzo warned me. He warned me the Russians could have planted her here. She could be Jakov’s girl for all I know. He was always in here, especially when Felony danced, watching her spread her legs on stage, thinking it was just for him.

I pull the papers out. My knee is bouncing.

There are only two things inside.

One is a high school transcript for Sophia Louise Monroe from an all-girls boarding school in Concord, Massachusetts. The lowest grade of all four years of her high school was a 98, and that was in a history class her freshman year. The tuition for the school was $56 K a year. So she came from money, got rid of a Massachusetts accent, and what? Just decided to become a stripper for Tony Fretolli?

That just doesn’t make any sense.

Especially when the information about the school says 97% of their graduating class goes on to an Ivy League college. How did she become the 3% that ends up being a stripper, hundreds of miles away from her home?

I peek back in the envelope to take out the last piece of paper. It’s small and wedged in the bottom corner. I can tell it’s a picture printed out on a regular piece of computer paper.

Fuck my life.

The picture is grainy, whoever printed it out needs a new ink cartridge, but it’s clear as day Sophia is in the picture. She’s in someone’s house. There’s an enormous chandelier in the background, the dangling crystals hang like a pure white shimmering halo above her. There’s a blurry winding staircase behind the couch she’s posing on, smiling at whoever took the picture.

On one side of her is Lev Jakov, Niko’s youngest son, and on the other side of her is Viktor, his oldest. The three of them are smiling like they’re old friends, each of them holding a drink in their hands. Niko’s in the background looking at someone off to the side I can’t see.

It doesn’t hit me at first, the anger. At first I’m numb, like pins and needles in my chest, my brain.

She’s part of Jakov’s family?

Was she fucking one of them too?

My pulse speeds up and pounds through my ears. My hands crush the picture and heat flushes through my entire body.

I run through the hallway and bolt back down the stairs, tripping and stumbling over my own feet. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill all of them. Every one of them that touched her. Any of them that got to know her the way I did.

Fuck what Tony’s playing out now, when I’m through with this piece of shit, his dick will be shredded into tiny ribbons.

The key to the back basement room fumbles out of my fingers. They’re shaking. Every part of my body is shaking, quivering with deadly rage. All I see is red. How the fuck could she think she could get away with any of this?

Tony’s going to kill her.

And I don’t want him to.

I can’t let him.

How the hell could she do this to me?

I have to get inside this damn room. Jakov better not be dead yet. I need answers. I need answers right now.

The stupid key isn’t working. My fingers feel too thick and clammy. So I pound and kick at the motherfucking door until Enzo opens it with his motherfucking gun pointing right at my motherfucking head.