Chapter 2 BREAKING THE ROGUE

DALLA

Dalla needed him to break.

It had been three days, and Tobias had not spoken more than ten words. 

He was like a machine in a suit. He ate when Dalla ate, he watched Dalla sleep from the chair in the corner of the room, and he followed Dalla into the loudest, filthiest clubs without so much as a grimace.

"You're boring me, Slate," Dalla said, throwing a handful of chips onto the covered table of “The Pit.”

The Pit was an illegal underground casino and fight club, a place where the air always smelled like sweat, cheap gin, and blood.

It was the kind of place a Mulvaney was supposed to supervise, but Dalla used it as his playground.

Tobias stood behind him, his arms crossed. He was scanning the room, his eyes never resting on the cards. It moved around, from the exit, to the back door, to the entrance. 

"My job is not to entertain you," Tobias replied.

"No, your job is to protect me. But how can you protect me if you’re incompetent? I need to know I can trust you with my life.” Dalla grinned, as a crazy thought crawled into his head. 

He signaled to the floor manager. "Clear the ring. I want to see what my father’s money bought."

The room went silent as the manager announced an exhibition match. Dalla pointed a finger at Tobias.

"Him," Dalla shouted. "Against The Butcher.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, everyone gasped. 

The Butcher was a 300-pound mountain of a man who had killed two opponents in the ring this year alone. 

He was drugged up on adrenaline and spite, his knuckles were scarred and thick.

Not one person survived a fight with him. If they didn't die on the spot, they would die a day after or two from the injuries sustained. 

Tobias didn't move for a long time. Then, he slowly unbuttoned his suit jacket, folded it neatly, and handed it to a stunned Dalla. 

He untied his tie and rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms that looked like they were carved from oak, filled with a lot of intricate tattoos. 

He didn't say a word as he stepped into the ring. 

"Fifty grand on The Butcher!" Dalla yelled, leaning over the rail with a smirk on his face. 

He wanted to see Tobias bleed. He wanted to see the mask of perfection crack. He wanted his father to see that his “Perfect guard” was just another man who could be harmed.

The bell rang, signaling the start of the match. 

The Butcher lunged towards Tobias with a roar tearing from his throat. Tobias didn't move until the last possible second when the butcher's fist almost grazed him. 

He stepped to the side—a well-calculated move—and drove his palm into the giant’s ear.

The sound of the impact was like a gunshot.

The Butcher stumbled and lost his balance immediately. 

The crowd gasped, causing all eyes to be on Tobias. 

They whispered, because they had not seen any man with such strength since the butcher. 

“Who the hell is he?” a woman from the crowd spoke. 

“He dropped the butcher down with one punch.” 

Tobias didn't give him a chance to recover. He moved in, his strikes so fast, like he had planned the fight long before walking into the ring. 

It looked like he was dismantling a gun.

One strike to the throat, one kick to the knee, and that was all it took. 

Snap.

The sound of the Butcher's collarbone breaking echoed in the silent room. 

A man from behind leaned in to where Dalla was. “Where did you find him?” 

An already stunned Dalla couldn't find the right words. He watched with unease as Tobias finished the butcher off.

He wanted to see Tobias bleed, and not the other way around. 

Tobias grabbed the man’s head and slammed it into the steel mesh of the ring. Once. Twice.

The Butcher hit the floor like a felled tree and didn't move.

Tobias stood over him, his breathing even, his hair barely out of place. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked directly at Dalla. His eyes weren't cold anymore—they were burning with a dark, suppressed rage.

Dalla felt a jolt of electricity hit his spine. He swallowed hard, his throat, suddenly became dry.

Tobias stepped out of the ring and walked straight to Dalla. 

Dalla swallowed hard as Tobias walked towards him, his palm becoming sweaty immediately. 

Tobias snatched his jacket back, his fingers brushing Dalla’s hand. Dalla could feel the heat coming off him. 

"Don't ever bet against me again," Tobias whispered, his voice vibrating in Dalla's chest.

Dalla opened his mouth to reply, but a hand caught his arm. 

He turned to find a young girl, a waitress he had seen regularly here and he remembered her because she was close to his brother. 

He stared at his arms, which she gripped, and then at her. She looked terrified.

"Dalla," she hissed, glancing at Tobias. "I have something.” She whispered. 

“I don't have time for anything Mia, maybe next time.” He pulled his arms from her grip, walking behind Tobias. 

“About Liam,” she said in a low voice. 

That name alone caused Dalla to halt and turn back to her, pulling her to a hidden corner. 

“What about Liam?” 

“I…i” she stammered. 

Dalla stared at her, gripping her cold sweaty palms. 

“Breath mia, now speak.” 

“I think…” She choked, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“I think he was set up." her Voice croaked. 

She pressed a small, blood-stained flash drive into his hand.

"Who set him up, Mia?" Dalla asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“Your—” The words died in her throat before she could complete her sentence. 

Mia looked past him, her eyes widening in horror as she saw someone’s shadow from a distance. 

She bolted before he could stop her.

Dalla clutched the drive, his knuckles white. 

He walked out. Looking at Tobias, who was watching Mia disappear.

"What was that?" Tobias asked, his voice back to its icy tone.

"None of your business."

Dalla turned to walk away, but Tobias grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. 

The grip was tight, tight enough to bruise him.

"Everything you touch is my business."

Dalla looked down at Tobias’s hand, then up at his face. 

The aggression in the air was thick enough to choke on. 

Dalla leaned in, his lips inches from Tobias’s.

"Then you should know, Slate... I touch a lot of things."

“Men, Women, Pussy,” He purred. Tobias pushed him away before he could complete his sentence. 

“Move.” Tobias groaned.

Dalla headed for the exit, the weight of the drive in his pocket was feeling like a live grenade. 

He reached the SUV, but as he went to climb in, he saw a black sedan idling across the street. The windows were tinted, but he knew.

He always had company wherever he goes. 

Tobias shoved him into the car, slamming the door. As they pulled away, Dalla looked out the back window. 

The sedan didn't follow. Instead, a man stepped out of the shadows of the alley, walking towards the Car. 

Two things were odd.

He was holding a silencer in his left hand, with blood dripping from it, and he was also wearing a Mulvaney family ring on his right hand. 

There were only four people in the Mulvaney family who were entitled to that ring.

Dalla’s heart raced as he thought of it. 

Himself, His brother, his father, and his  Father’s consigliere, who was their uncle. 

Dalla never wore his Ring because he never wanted to be part of the Mafia. 

Liam’s Ring never left his room since the incident. And his Father never came out to places like this. 

“It can't possibly be.” He whispered, turning back one last time to see the figure vanish.