COLD TRAP

MATTEO 

I have come to a conclusion that spending months away from doing the job I was trained to do 

o has somehow contributed to the drift of my mind. 

I was born with a purpose. To head my family, to be a dangerous man, to keep feelings aside and deal without mercy. All through the course of my life, I have tried to stay focused on my duty and follow the path which was curated for me by the people who were before me. 

It was easy to spill blood and ruin people until Mirabella, my wife came along. From the moment she warmed her way into my heart, It has become as though this world of blood and chaos holds no water in my life anymore. As though I continuously seck out the peace and quiet. 

And ever since discovering about my kids and surviving multiple gunshot wounds, I have become more desperate for that peace and quiet. 

Which is why now, twenty four hours after leaving Italy for Mexico in search of another blood to spill, my mind has gone far far away from here. Instead of preparing to hunt a criminal, all I desire is to spend the day with my family. My wife, my beautiful kids, my mother, and my sister 

There’s just this desire to focus on the most important things and people in my life for I know not when the chaos will be stirred up to swallow 

them whole. 

Those are just desires for I am now faced with reality. In order to be able to live a peaceful life with the people I cherish, I have to eradicate the only worthy threat. My wife’s father. 

So, my desires shouldn’t come in the way of reality, especially not in moments like this when I should be the most deadly man alive. 

“Matteo,” A deep voice stirs me out of the void, eyes piercing through my skin suspiciously. 

“Hmm” I hum, heaving out a sigh. 

Dean shifts closer to my side and asks, “you haven’t heard a single word of what I’ve been saying all this time, are you good?” “Mmhmm.” I nod while I fiddle with my fingers, 

A hum of disagreement rumbles in his throat. “You’re not. And do you know why I know you’re not?” 

“Humor me. Dean.” 

“Because you’ve been fiddling with your ring and staring at the picture of your wife in your wallet. Did you have a fight with her?” “No,” I answer, my tone clipped and dismissive. 

“But?” 

“What?” 

“There has to be something going on for your mood to go from extremely happy to extremely sour within hours.” He pushes, 

1 groan, throwing my head back. “My wife and I didn’t get into a fight, but I fear that something has happened back home. Something that has driven her to distance herself from me. My voice falls into a worrisome whisper, my brain wild with imaginations of the worst case scenario. “She’s just distant, man. I hear it in her voice. 1 can feel it. And it scares me to think that my marriage might be in jeopardy once again, and it scares me to think that I might be the problem yet again.” 

your 

Dean heaves out a shuddered breath as he moves his hand to my shoulder, squeezing tightly, as though assuring me. “I cannot say that I share sentiments, but this is all the more reason we should get this over with and get you home as soon as possible. It’s going to be okay, whatever this problem might be.” 

“You’re sure!” 

“You both have been through worse, yet, here you are. 

“I suppose you’re right.” 

te go to person for that. The perfect 

When a matter has stretched to the point where torturing truths out of people has to be involved, I am always the go to enforcer. Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

You think I’ll ask you questions and throw words back and forth. I don’t 

You think I wouldn’t speak to you, that’s when I yap about things that do and don’t concern you. 

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2/2 

You think I’m about to pull the trigger. I don’t 

I play mind games. I keep my victims guessing–I keep them guessing until they’re pissing their pants and begging for something, anything 

That’s the mind game I play with one of Marcelo’s men who was taken from their hideout. I need answers as quickly as it can come, so, I am playing an extremely dirty game–shamelessly solling my hands in blood. 

It’s a good thing that I am in my element. 

The young, petrified boy pisses himself out of fear, his scream ricocheting louder in the back of the van where the torture is happening. And when I trail 

my already bloodied knife down to his groin, my eyes holding a promise of taking away his manhood, he begins singing like a bird. 

That’s more like it. 

So foolish of him to believe there’s a chance of getting out of this alive. But thanks to my games of the mind, the boy has now detailed out the blueprint of this hideout, even adding certain details which I didn’t expect to find. 

He’s sure going out of his way to keep his cock attached to him. 

We wait. Not just me–Ares, Dean, Maxwell, and Amir included. We wait patiently until Marcelo’s car pulls up in the driveway. 

When the wicked entity steps out of his car and into my line of vision, my blood boils with anger and impatience. With a gesture of my fingers, the group disperses, each of us wandering into different wings of the bushy landscape, blending through the woods like ghosts 

Evening out my breathing, my fingers surround the handle of my gun, my index finger against the trigger. I tiptoe into the small hut looking house, a devious smile coating my face when Marcelo’s eyes shoot open and land on me. 

He’s quick with his reaction. He takes to his heels and I chase him. We soon crash into the woods, but instead of chasing behind him, I run around him in circles, causing a swirl of confusion in his mind. 

It’s my way of luring him into the den of hungry lions and mad dogs. My people, people who have been on the receiving end of his wickedness. When I tire out, I double cross the confused looking man, startling a gasp out of him. 

“Oh,” Itsk, my breathing erratic. “Is that fear I see in your eyes, Marcelo?” 

He gulps, shifting backwards when I begin striding toward him What do you think you’re doing. Matteo,” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Having fun with my father in–law?” His brows pull into a frown. I chuckle amusingly. “But it’s so heartbreaking that my father in–law fears me. What is it you fear. Marcelo! My unusual way of taking care of defaulters or my spitefulness.” 

“Your wife wouldn’t like this,” he says assertively, his eyes narrowed viciously at me. 

“Funny” I scoff. “It was my wife, your daughter who made this special request. Night night, Marcelo.” 

A black cloth goes over his head, the handle of Dean’s gun knocking the back of his head with so much force it lulls him into unconsciousness. 

SIND OFT 

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