The Reaper's Savior

"He's ready for you, Mr Cattaneo."

Elio Cattaneo's expression was indifferent as it settled upon the weeping lump on the dirt-covered floor. The exhaustion lingering within his bones barely phased him in the face of the significance of this duty, and he raised his chin, nodding curtly.

Elio's guards stepped away from the man whose blood stained their fists – Samuel Ford – who was huddled over the ground, looking like he wanted to disappear into himself, shaking and moaning in pain, covered in cuts and bruises.

"Mr Ford? I'd rather be elsewhere right now, so let's make this meeting as swift as possible."

When he received a groan of pain in response, Elio sighed and glanced at a guard who stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of Samuel's hair, and lifted his head.

"I don't want to waste more time on this than I already have. So, I ask that you kindly put on your big boy pants and join me for a quick chat. Understood?

Samuel stammered, rubbing his hands together. "Whatever you want. Just please—"

"Do you know why you're here, Samuel?"

Elio could see the question caught him off-guard, and he already knew the answer.

"I-I owe you—"

"Yes, you do. But not money, something even more valuable. Last week, you overheard a conversation you shouldn't have, and like the bumbling idiot that you are, you blabbed to the wrong people and endangered a lucrative partnership – worth more than your very existence. Not only that, but your vile manners caused an innocent person to die."

Elio still couldn't forget hearing the news. A mundane day became a fiasco when he received the call about Delilah's passing. Her father had been in the process of becoming a major branch of Elio's family affiliates to secure his daughter's future.

Word had got out, and someone else who wanted the spot made a play to scare him off. Needless to say, they had succeeded.

Samuel finally realized the severity of his situation and made a futile move to scramble backward.

"Mr Cattaneo! Please! I didn't mean to!"

"But you did, and the damage is irreversible. All I can do now is prevent those mistakes from happening again. Mr Ford, when a gas pipe bursts, the leak needs to be handled swiftly — and with discretion to prevent panic from spreading. And that's what this meeting is for, to handle the leak."

Samuel moved to his knees, begging with tears, creating tracks along the dirt and blood on his face.

"Mr Cattaneo, I didn't mean to! I swear, it'll never happen again. I'll do whatever you—"

"My family has no use for snakes like you. All you do is consume everything in your path and wreak havoc on the rest of the world. You're useless."

"I have a wife and a daughter. Please, for them—"

"What? Do you want us to let you live just because you've entrapped innocents in your filthy lifestyle? Or should we use them as collateral?" Elio mused, tilting his head inquisitively.

Samuel fell silent, then looked up nervously.

"Which one's gonna let me live?"

Elio's face went blank, and he straightened, snapping his fingers. A tablet was handed to him, and his voice echoed through the room as he tapped the screen.

"You're a tenacious little shit, aren't you, Samuel Ford? Do you ever wonder if maybe the world wasn't the problem, but you were? I'm surprised you survived this long, rolling around in gutters, making a nuisance of yourself whenever you could, stealing, cheating, lying…"

He stopped and faced the screen of the device to the man at his feet, clenching his jaw as the video began to play.

He'd seen it too many times, unable to stop thinking about the fear in the woman's eyes, the quake in her voice, and her strong grip on the teenage girl in her arms.

"P-please… we don't have anything, but if I can—"

"We're here on behalf of your husband, ma'am."

Her laugh was hollow and disgusted.

"My husband? Of course. Why does it even surprise me anymore? We have nothing because of him. I gave him my life, and he gave me nothing more than pain in return. Everything he touches, he destroys. We – I have nothing left to give up for that conceited, selfish bastard. He's tried to sell off our child — the only good thing I have left. She's not his property or a get-out-of-jail-free card. She's our child! How can—"

Elio made sure his gaze was on the scum at his feet as the final words escaped into the air.

"I just want her to have a better future. And it looks like the only way she can do so is if that son of a bitch bites the bullet, but that's never gonna happen, is it? He'll always pop up, demanding more. That's how it will be until he gets us all killed."

In the moments the video had played, Samuel had traded his fear for rage, and Elio felt satisfied at his expression, knowing his decision had been made easier.

"That bitch—"

"You're not a provider for your family, making you useless to them. I am not in the business of human trafficking, and so they're useless to me. You have nothing to offer, making your value obsolete."

"No, please—"

"I need you to understand something before you die," Elio beckoned his men closer. "If you'd lived as a smart rat, you wouldn't be in this situation. But you chose countless times to move senselessly, to speak thoughtlessly, and I can't have a dangerous variable like you moving around in my territory."

"Please! I-I'll go! I'll leave – o-or –"

"No, Samuel. You'll give your life because that's what your ignorance cost me. A life more valuable than yours has ended, and while yours hardly seems like a worthy trade-off, it's a start. At least your daughter might get a fair chance to live without you cutting her down at the knees whenever you get hungry."

Elio turned away with one last instruction.

"Make sure it hurts."

Samuel's screams escorted him back to his car, and once he was settled in, he dialed a number on his phone.

The receiver stalled but eventually picked up before the last ring, and Elio felt incredibly apologetic.

"Mr Agosti, I'm sorry to bother you. The rat has been dealt with. He won't be causing any more problems."

"… What about the ones who took my daughter from me?"

Elio bit his lip, regretful of what he had to say next.

"They're a subsidiary branch, so a direct attack would only create a bigger mess. We've asked our contacts to pull out of whatever deals they had with them, and hopefully, their desperation will lead to their destruction."

Mr Agosti chuckled without humor. "Hopefully. You sound like your father – when he took over for his father. Ruthless but thoughtful. You're a good one, Elio. Don't worry about me. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. Maybe this is safer for Delilah."

Elio closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping his plan wouldn't lead to his demise.

"Mr Ford has a daughter—a teenager whose mother can barely feed them both daily. And now," he paused, noticing the silence in the air. "She just lost her father — though he won't be missed – and they might have acquired whatever trouble he attracted now that he is no longer in the picture."

Mr Agosti didn't speak for a moment and then he said, "That is worrisome. That child and her mother might not survive what comes next."

"Perhaps… you might consider helping them. I'm not asking you to replace Delilah, never. But… my mother says people grieving sometimes need to be given opportunities to care for something other than their loss in order to heal. The mother won't let you have her child, but she can be persuaded if she can still remain in the picture. Adoption is very flexible these days. Or you could sponsor her upbringing, much like—"

"A godfather. You're out of your mind."

Elio beamed because Mr Agosti didn't sound outraged or insulted. If anything, he sounded thoughtful and intrigued.

Seconds later, he heard a sigh.

"What's her name? The child?"

"Faye."

"Set it up."