The Leader of Northern Ireland's Underworld

The night was dark and stormy, how he was feeling on the inside. Betrayal wasn’t new in his line of work. But, when someone you trusted, someone you saved and took under your wing is the one to plunge that dagger in your back then there is no going back. Revenge isn’t advised; it’s necessary. Those who wrong you deserve to face the consequences.

“After everything we did for you. This is how you repay us?” Blaze asks. His British accent was thicker than usual, a tell-tale sign that the man was two seconds away from losing his last marble with this bloke.

200lbs with the height of 6 feet 5 inches, Blaze towered over everyone in the room. Ronan knew if he didn’t interfere now, his best soldier might just end up killing Nicholas before they even ask questions.

“Careful there, Blaze. We need him conscious, and alive,” Ronan’s Irish lilt cut through the chaos.

“How can you expect me to be calm, Ron? We lost excellent soldiers because of him! Three are dead. Eight are in hospital fighting for their lives!” Blaze yelled.

Ronan Knight sat back in his chair; he blended in the shadows as he watched his best friend and right-hand man; Blaze, land another punch on their informant; Nicholas Parker. Blood and saliva spewed from his mouth. Nicholas thought he could get away with double crossing them. But little did he know, Ronan was onto him.

He watched as the rest of his crew shifted on their feet, as if itching to have a go themselves, but they were too busy holding onto the rest of their informants. According to their formidable leader it was important for everyone working under him to know what happens when you cross the Knight clan.

Ronan dropped his cigarette before crushing it under his shoe- Italian leather, which showed off his wealth and status. He stood up, and despite his 6 foot 4 inch height and his strong build, he walked with a certain agility.

“You think I don’t know that, Blaze? You don’t think how I wanted nothing more than to save them. Fight the devil himself for their lives?” Ronan retorted, his voice sharp yet the hint of hurt underneath it was unmissable.

Blaze stepped back, knowing it was now time for the boss to take over the special treatment that their traitor was facing. Blaze started to almost feel bad for Nicholas. Almost.

“Apologies, Boss. Didn’t mean to lash out at ya,” Blaze kept his head down.

Ronan, however didn’t feel bad as he squeezed the back of Blaze’s neck in a gesture of comfort. Blaze released breath he didn’t realize he was holding and relaxed.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Parker. Perhaps if you let me know what made you choose to side with my enemy, I might be generous enough to let you walk out of here,” he says in a dangerously calm tone as he turns to Nicholas.

Nicholas spat blood on Ronan’s shoe, “Fuck you, Knight.”

“Sorry, lad. You ain’t my type, I’m into girls. Give me the name of the bloke you tipped me off to and this will all end quickly,” he says simply.

“I did it to see you suffer. You think you and your merry band of misfits are invincible? Newsflash, you’re not!” he snapped.

Nicholas was semi-conscious but Ronan’s eyebrows shot up, admiring his tenacity. Blaze lunged for him but stopped short when he saw Ronan raise his hand, halting him instantly.

“You know what, Nicholas? I’m impressed, even after getting pummelled by Blaze here,” Ronan claps Blaze on the shoulder before continuing, “You’re still mouthing of. But, let me tell you something. Your first mistake was double crossing us. Your second mistake was thinking you could get away with it. Now, I will give you one last chance to tell me why you thought it would be wise to side with my enemy or else…” he let the threat linger in the air, and the colour from Nicholas’ face drained even more. He knew the kind of man Ronan was and how he came to build his empire.

At the age of 28, Ronan ruled the Northern Ireland’s underworld with an iron fist. His family owned Belfast. But, when it was his turn to take over the empire, Ronan soon worked his way through all the other gangs, taking over every single one, until the only name people feared was Ronan Knight. Of course, he lost and gained some along the way, but even he knew the consequences of the game he was destined to play, and once you’ve made a deal with the devil, there’s no backing out.

Nicholas kept his mouth shut which was starting to annoy Ronan, tsking he shook his head slightly and extended his hand out. Immediately one of his men handed him a 12-inch Dirk Dagger without question.

“You disappoint me, Nicholas.”

Before Nicholas could speak, one of Ronan’s men; Marco walks in. Known for his incredible hacking skills, Marco was able to penetrate the system of any device and find out the information needed about anyone. Nicholas started to really panic now, as he knew whatever Marco had uncovered, officially sealed his fate.

“Boss, I come baring news. Whether or not its good I’ll leave it up to you. But, I found out who Nicholas had ratted us out to; Victor Moretti,” Marco explains, carrying a file.

Ronan’s stoic demeanour remains intact, but the fire burning in his eyes sent a chill down the spines of everyone present.

“Wait! Wait! I can explain…” Nicholas stammered.

“Too. Fucking. Late,” he growled.

The dagger was freshly sharpened, just the way he liked it. One swipe was all it took to penetrate through the skin and bone. Nicholas’ head rolled on the floor, eyes still bulging, mouth agape.

Ronan looked around to see his men nodding solemnly, knowing that the path that their leader just took was necessary in order to make sure that it didn’t happen again. Even Blaze placed a comforting hand on his boss’s shoulder to show his solidarity.

The informants working for him however, were a sickly green colour and ended up vomiting on the side. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the stench of sick lingered in the air.

“Arrange for a clean-up crew,” he ordered before handing the dagger back to the original owner as he walked out, Blaze and a few of his men in tow.