Chapter 30

Four seconds, five seconds, six seconds

Life wasn't meant to be easy. Yet, no one taught you that.

Seven seconds, eight seconds

That was how his curly, strawberry-blonde hair ended up hanging down his face without a bounce. His sunless skin ashy of color, and his silver-dipped chains doused with his own blood.

Nine seconds

Elio shook his head.

Ten seconds.

That's how long it took to reassure his life had left his body, but that was never enough, not for me. Unlike New York, I made sure their souls were banished.

Elio stepped aside, and I raised my gun, enjoying the weight of the six bullets I had left in the clip, and pulled the trigger.

"Ahh! No, Jack!"

Huh, I guess they were friends.

Taking a step closer to whose heart was still beating, I placed my gun in its holster and looked down on him. Ajani, a boy of Jamaican descent whose family worked hard and had tried time after time to keep him off the streets. Instead, America made it simple, cool to fall into the gutters. To steal even from his blood. A life he took joy in.

"I'm feeling merciful." I stretched my cracked knuckles, and Elio smirked behind him.

"Please, anything. I would do anything!" Slobber, tears, and snot ran uncontrollably. Pathetic.

"I have a question."

His head shook vigorously, and his cry intensified.

"Man, I don't know anything!"

Yeah, I'd gathered that much, but his sin would still be punished.

"Answer me, and I'll make your death quick."

The grown man wept for the miserable life he wanted to live.

Dario's steps neared from behind and stopped. Standing close, he leaned on the open doorway. His eyes found mine, and his head dipped. Dario was done with his task.

I returned to the wails of Ajani as he continued to mourn the life of his friend.

"Do we have a deal?"

His mouth opened, singing a vowel of grief. I took it as a yes.

"Why her?"

Sniffing, his large brown eyes looked up, and his shoulders rose. "She was the girl in the picture, man. We just took the job and followed the instructions."

A picture.

My blood cooled, and my body shook with force. My pulse tugged with strings of madness, colliding in outrage at his words. I had to see it. Touch it and bear the image in my head for me to believe the captured silhouette was mine.

But first, "Who gave you the order?" I had to know.

"I swear I didn't know she was yours!" Spit dribbled down his lips.

"Don't make me ask again."

"He didn't give his name, just promised good cash," he cried, but as I took a step closer, he blurted, "Midthirties, and had burn marks on his hands!"

I could think of a few, but one in particular stood out in my mind.

"Where is the picture?" Even and calm, I asked.

In violent wails, he muttered, "Under the lamp."

In a quick spin, I scanned behind Dario. Dario moved aside, not bothering to get the picture himself. He fucking knew not to get in my way. Not when I could see death. Not when I felt the sting in my fingertips, and my hands itched for answers.

There was only one lamp. Gray with a film of dust over a box that served as a table in the far corner.

With each step, I saw Dario's work. The two bundles of unmarked cocaine on the couch. The peppered dime sized bags on the floor and the broken scale by the center table. All serving the purpose of the fabrication created for the law, but enough for the myth to travel across states until Giuliani caught the gossip of the poor bastards he'd hired.

Finger marks covered the lamp's vase, indicating the amount of times it had been touched to show what hid underneath. With the force of the back of my hand, it was flung and shattered, causing a glass blast of tiny pieces.

I saw the image, and the demon broke free.

I picked it up. Watched Alessandra's grace through the pixels, unaware as she sat inside a café. Open laptop, coffee mug to her right, bold emeralds looking up at what had caught her attention.

My jaw shut painfully as my teeth gritted. It hadn't been a similar characteristic kill, it was a one human hunt.

Grooves in the left bottom corner tarnished the picture, and when I flipped it, I only felt the need for torture.

It was dated a year ago with one word.

Italy.

Giuliani has kept an eye on Alessandra for over a year now. Waiting, obsessing, and I stole his trophy. Now, he wanted her blood.

I laughed. There was no humor to it, and yet, I laughed. I folded the picture, turned and placed it inside my pocket, keeping the bloody and unfinished cigarette company.

I passed by Dario and stood in front of Ajani's terrified spirit while Elio's body straightened knowing his brother was nowhere near.

My body lowered to the bound man. His body paralyzed in terror the closer I got to his head. Silent tears poured down until I couldn't see his eyes anymore.

"I don't feel merciful anymore," I whispered in his ear.

The man wailed.

I pulled back, watching from above as he lost all hope. My hand reached back, but instead of my gun, I grabbed Alessandra's favorite-a knife.

And the demon prevailed. Ruling over my senses. Taking the crown and delivering every wound. Butchering all life as blood stained and soaked my hands in red. I watched him as he soon would meet death's realm. And I searched for a feeling. Any feeling that might emerge from my consciousness. I did so involuntarily, like a ritual.

Yet, regardless if they were young, old, good or evil, any sense of emotion was always the same. Absent. Tonight was no different.

Tonight, the demon and I smiled through the pain of the man's prayers.

Silence followed after the slaughter. The body was unrecognizable, and I still felt nothing but wicked satisfaction.

I never looked back. I had no reason to when you owned the city. In a neighborhood where no one kept an outside light on. The kind that didn't leave home after dark. The kind that death hunted. The same death that swirled inside me now.

Once the humid air struck my face, I followed the open door Dario had ready for me. I sat inside the blacked-out windows of Elio's car, wiped my hands clean, and unlocked my phone's screen.

I had an unread message. I opened it as Elio's door shut and the car rolled away from the curve.

VADIM: Did you know she walks non-stop during the night? I need extra compensation for the lack of sleep.

I should have left it unread. Instead, my mind reeled while I felt Elio's glance bounce from the windshield to me.

"You shouldn't be the one with gashed knuckles."

"Upset you missed the fun?" I deadpanned.

"No," Elio's deep voice replied. "But you're the boss now."

"And as one, I will continue to get my hands dirty when needed."

I snapped my head toward him. Tired of words and ready to wash the filthy blood that soaked my shirt clinging to my chest.

"And indeed you did." His lips twitched with humor.

I felt none. Not while my pocket burned with Alessandra's picture and her lifeless green eyes haunted me. And I felt a violent need to have her near.

"Now, take me home."

"Yes, boss."

"And one more thing, find out where Leandro Giuliani is."