"M-mom," Nicholas called out, his lips quivering as he felt himself being rooted to one position.
"Nicholas, you should… you should get going. You shouldn't be here. Get out! Get… get out now!" Mr. Sinclair stammered as his words began to trail one after the other, deserting his gaze from the man before him and toward his son.
Tears streamed down the eyes of Nicholas as they kissed his cheeks. For a moment, Nicholas just felt like he was in a trance-like state.
"Young man, get the hell outta here." The man with a gun seethed in rage.
He was no longer covered in blood like the way he was in the train but instead, the young man wore black trousers, a black long sleeve and had a black earring in one ear.
His brown crew-cut hair was neatly combed and he carried a dangerous aura that made a cold chill surround the entire room.
"M-mom? My… my mom is… no my mom can't be dead." Nicholas stammered, blinking his eyelashes as more tears streamed down his eyes.
"I… I didn't mean to kiss you at the train and… and… and…"
Nicholas opened his mouth to justify himself but words failed him.
The young man scoffed. He hadn't recognized that Nicholas was the one on the train until he opened his mouth to justify his actions.
Before he realized it, his legs moved on their own, carrying him to his mother's side.
Nicholas's knees buckled as he dropped beside his mother's body. His breath caught in his throat, sharp and painful, like shattered glass.
He reached out, hesitated while his trembling fingers suspended inches from his mother's blood-slicked cheek.
No. He couldn't touch her. Touching her would make it real.
Ever so slowly, Nicholas placed his hands on his mother's shoulders. "Mom… mom please open your eyes." Nicholas pleaded with quivering lips as tears streamed down his cheeks like a fountain river.
He gave his mother a gentle shake, then harder, as if he could jolt life back into her with sheer desperation.
"Mom… stop playing games with me and open your eyes." Nicholas winced in pain. "Ohh, mom… mom please don't do this to me," he whispered, his lips trembling as sobs built in his chest.
He turned to his father, eyes wide, wet, wild with fear. "Da… Dad… this is a joke, right?" Nicholas questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn't real. Tell me she's just… pretending."
Nicholas needed him to say something… anything. To lie to him if he had to. To make it all go away but silence was the only answer he got.
Silence and the sound of his own heart shattering were the only things that filled the room.
The man who stood before Nicholas and his father let out a long breath, slow and hoarse.
"I should introduce myself," he said, his voice cold and dangerous. His cold eyes shifted from Mr. Sinclair to Nicholas. "I want your son to know exactly who's about to ruin his life."
Nicholas sat frozen, his lips trembling, his heart pounding so loud he thought it might crack his ribs.
"I'm sure you've heard the name Gabriel Steele," he said with a smirk. "The most feared Mafia don in New York City underworld business."
Nicholas flinched.
Before he could even respond, Gabriel Steele continued, his words sharp and laced with cold depth, prompting cold dimples to ignite in Nicholas's entire skin.
"Your father has been handling my travel documents for years. I trusted him. Protected him. Paid him well. But… but this bastard sold me out. He leaked information about my business trips to a rival Mafia don."
Gabriel's grip on the gun tightened, knuckles whitening. "And for what? A pile of blood-soaked money?"
Gabriel began to pace the room with slow deliberate steps. The sound of his shoes scraping against the floor could be heard as he walked.
"You dare play with fire Mr. Sinclair and ohh! I could've sent my men to finish you quietly. Leave your body in an alley. But no. Traitors deserve a front-row seat to their consequences."
Gabriel stopped pacing, as he twirled the gun with his index finger, a sly smirk forming at the side of his lips.
"I came myself to show you what happens when you double cross me."
Nicholas's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't look away from the weapon. His eyes darted to his father sweating, shaking, eyes red and swollen.
Mr. Sinclair pressed his palms together, voice quivering. "Please… please forgive me. I… had no choice. My wife… she was dying. The doctors said she could live a little longer if… if she got the right treatment. I needed the money."
Gabriel sneered. "And you chose to save her by murdering my trust? You gave her a few more days… and led her to her death."
Mr. Sinclair gulped down a mouthful of saliva as the movement became visible in his throat. His hands were still pressed together in a pleading manner as more tears streamed down his eyes.
The reason why he had sold out the route of Gabriel Steele was because other Mafia bosses offered him a large sum of money. He needed the money to treat his wife because doctors still claimed that with proper medication, his wife would live for a year and a half before the illness would destroy her.
Without treatment, Mrs. Sinclair would die within the next six months and Mr. Sinclair wasn't ready for that.
He didn't even think twice when he was offered the money to betray the Mafia he worked for, and unfortunately, his act had caused him to lose his wife and he was about to also lose his life if he didn't end up changing the mind of Gabriel Steele, and the chance of that happening was quite thin.
Nicholas turned to his father, voice barely above a whisper. "You… you knew what kind of man he was. And you still…"
His sentence broke into a sob.
Gabriel's cold gaze fell on him again, and the corners of his mouth curled with amusement.
"Looks like your son finally understands the price of betrayal."
"I… I'll do anything so please… please spare my life. I made… I made a mistake and I deserve to be punished." Mr. Sinclair stammered, his words trailing one after the other.
Gabriel scoffed. "Ohh yes. You deserve to be punished." He seethed with clenched teeth. "And I'll fulfil your wish."
"Nooooooo." Nicholas screamed at the top of his lungs. "Don't… please… I beg of you. Don't kill my Dad. I can't…"
His words trailed off, a snort rolled out of his nose as it collided with the tear stains that had already kissed his chin. "I can't lose two parents… so please. All… all this is my fault. I should… I should have been a hard-working son who could be able to take care of his parents whenever they needed to be taken care of…"
"Enough!" Gabriel exclaimed in a cold voice, and the entire room vibrated at his command. "I have no interest in your family story bullshit," he seethed. "And I spare no one. Mercy is not in my domain."
Quickly, Nicholas's father rushed over to Gabriel Steele's feet, grabbing his legs and trembling as he buried his face against them.
"I can… I promise I can do anything you want. I… I promise never to betray you again, so please… please, spare my life."
Seeing his father trembling and shedding tears, Nicholas rushed to his side and also clutched Gabriel's legs.
"My father is…"
His words trailed off as he gulped a mouthful of saliva, feeling his lips dry up. "My Dad is sorry. He promises… I can… I can vouch for him that he'll never betray you again. He's not the type of man who goes back on his word, and we… we've learned from our mistake, Mister Gabriel. We've learned not to mess with you, so please."
Gabriel scoffed. The scene before him was disgusting to his eyes.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly.
"Holding onto my feet…" Gabriel began with a voice as calm and cold as the deepest depths of winter. "The fact that you both dare to touch my feet, I can already tell you plan on dying," he seethed.
"No!"
Both Nicholas and Mr. Sinclair shouted at the same time, scrambling backward like scared cats.
"Very well then. I've had a busy day. A really busy one at that. And your son knows that," he snarled.
Mr. Sinclair turned his gaze toward Nicholas, a bit taken aback by Gabriel's words, but the cracking sound of the gun in the Mafia's hands made him avert his gaze back to Gabriel, who was about to pull the trigger.
"Say your last prayers," Gabriel spat, a mischievous, devilish smirk curled on his lips.
"No… please don't do this… don't kill my dad," Nicholas pleaded, lips trembling as more tears streamed down his eyes.
Mr. Sinclair trembled violently, his voice caught in his throat as terror seized every inch of him.
"Is there anything you would like to say to your son? I'm doing you a last favour so tell him your goodbyes."
"Umm…" Mr. Sinclair's words trailed off as his chest rose and fell while he stared at Nicholas, who was shaking his head sideways, trembling, his clothes stained with his mother's blood and his body soaked in sweat and tears.
"I… I love you, Nicholas," Mr. Sinclair whispered. "Everything I'm doing is for your own good, Nicholas. I… I want you to trust me," he said softly, and Nicholas shook his head sideways while sobbing.
Mr. Sinclair turned his gaze over to Gabriel before closing his eyes to compose himself.
"What if… what if I offer something more precious than my life?" he inquired.
"Pfft! I don't need anything else except your life."
"Please… just hear me out. Please, I beg of you."
Gabriel sighed as he pressed the gun in his hand onto the forehead of Mr. Sinclair.
"Alright. Speak!"
"Umm… can I… can I please trade my son's life for mine?" he blurted out, and in an instant, Nicholas's eyes became wide open as he felt frozen in place, unable to comprehend the words of his father.