emotionally constipated loyalty disguised as mundane routine
The Russian air was bitter, the kind that burned the back of the throat when inhaled too fast. Nox exhaled smoke slowly, letting it coil around his gloved fingers as he surveyed the icy warehouse through his scope. Two down, one to go. The mafia boss would be the trickiest—protected, paranoid, and cruel. But Nox wasn't here to judge sins. He was here to eliminate obstacles and fund the cleanest front Leo could ever build.
He touched his side briefly. The matching gun Leo gifted him felt warmer in his hands than any weapon should. Not sentiment. Just good craftsmanship. Nothing more.
Meanwhile — Back at the Villa
Leo stepped into the sunlit corridor, barefoot and expressionless. Nox's bed was still cold. Guns: gone. Money: gone. His side of the closet: empty. The sticky note: taped to the nightstand with surgical precision.
"I'll be back."
The Hello Kitty piercing lay next to it.
Leo didn't comment. He didn't have to.
He stood for a long moment, the note pressed in one hand, the piercing between his fingers. Then he folded the paper once, tucked it into his pocket, and left the room.
By 6:00 a.m., he was outside training. Push-ups. Sprints. Marksmanship drills with the same cold sharpness that Nox used to apply. When he paused for water, he simply said, "Again," to the soldier beside him. Routine didn't forgive absence. It filled it.
Dominik, watching from the shaded porch with a half-eaten croissant and one crutch propped next to him, let out a dramatic sigh. "It's like watching a war widow in denial."
The former mafia boss, still recovering in a wheelchair with a blanket on his lap, didn't even look up from his tea. "He's training harder now."
"Because the love of his life vanished in the night like a sexy thief!" Dominik hissed.
"He left a note."
"With a Hello Kitty piercing."
The old man sipped his tea. "Practical. Sentimental. Perfect balance."
Midday – Leo's Study
Stacks of documents. Territory status reports. Pending deals. Leo handled them with efficient silence, only pausing to adjust his shirt sleeves. Nox's shirt, actually. Still smelled faintly of gunpowder and smoked cinnamon.
A knock. Then Dominik barged in without waiting.
"You haven't spoken in six hours."
"I'm busy."
Dominik flopped into a chair, pointing at Leo's outfit. "Are you wearing his boxers too, or just the shirt?"
Leo didn't blink. "If I say yes, will you leave?"
Dominik grinned. "You two are the most emotionally illiterate pair of dumbasses I've ever seen."
Leo marked a document with a red pen. "We're partners. That's all."
"Matching rifles. Matching piercings. Breakfasts cooked in silence. Partners," Dominik muttered dramatically. "Sure. Let's pretend we're in a mafia-themed Hallmark movie."
Late Afternoon – Garden
Leo walked through the rows of basil and tomatoes, His father's voice came through, raspy but firm.
"You have two weeks."
"For what?"
"To go back to college. Final year. You're finishing it."
Leo stopped walking. "You want me in a classroom while we're launching a front company and absorbing three territories?"
"Yes," came the reply. "Because it gives you cover. You'll live off-campus. Classes in the morning. Strategy in the evening. It's a mask."
Leo exhaled through his nose. "What about Nox?"
"You'll build the foundation while he finishes what he started. When he returns, he'll secure the funding and silence the loose ends. You'll make it official."
Leo nodded slowly. "And when everything's stable?"
"Then you step into the spotlight. But until then, no more public presence. College gives you a perfect excuse to disappear while still being seen."
"Got it."
"Leo."
"Yeah?"
"You have him. Like I had Dominik. That's more than most people get."
Leo walked awaywithout replying.
Evening – Kitchen
Leo cooked. It wasn't great. Definitely not Nox-level. But it was edible. As the rice simmered, Dominik limped in, paused, and leaned dramatically on the fridge.
"You cooked."
"No one else did."
Dominik opened the fridge, took out a cold beer, and closed the door with his hip. "Did you at least burn something in his memory?"
"I didn't burn anything."
"Hmm. Then maybe light a candle? Or wear one of his tattoos temporarily?"
Leo turned to him with a deadpan expression. "Dominik."
"What?"
"Shut up."
Dominik grinned. "You miss him."
Leo looked at the knife block. "Would you like to?"
Night – Nox, Somewhere in Russia
The third target had eyes everywhere, but Nox had patience. He waited atop a shadowed rooftop, camouflaged by frost and fog. His breath ghosted out in steady puffs. As he scanned the alley below, his thoughts refused to obey.
A cracked neon sign blinked in the distance—"Video Club." The kind Leo would've dragged him into, mumbling about B-tier horror movies and practical effects.
He blinked. Damn it.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded napkin—notes on what Leo needed for the company: software licenses, ID forging systems, server encryption, a cover building.
He'd get all of it. This job would fund it and then some.
From the edge of the roof, Nox muttered to himself.
"No more pretty wars. No more loose jobs."
His finger settled on the trigger.
"Time to build something.and maybe finally rest ."
To Be Continued