2. Warehouse
2
Warehouse
I t’s funny how the days you dread most go by in a drag while the days you want to last seem to slip away just as quickly as it started. This is definitely one of those days of dread. After a long workout session to release some testosterone and shower, I’m sitting here cleaning my guns and watching the news. I have a couple of schedules I need to look over for the club, but those can wait.
Checking the time, it’s 2100, nine PM. I need to get going. I attach my concealed carry holster to my chest and put in my little Sig P365. She is my ol’ reliable. She’s been through a lot of shit with me.
I don’t bother to pack anything else; Marklov will more than likely have his men check me for weapons anyway.
I’m dressed for anything less than success tonight. My all-black cargo pants and leather vest over a white T-shirt are as professional as I get in my line of work. The outfit is a blend of rugged and ready, perfect for the kind of night I have ahead.
As I approach my bike, I feel a familiar rush of excitement. The engine roars to life with a thunderous growl, sending vibrations through my entire body. It’s a sensation that almost gives me a half-chub every time, reminding me why I love this life. I’m geared up and ready for whatever comes next, and I really have a choice in this matter.
Gliding through the highway lanes, I peer back to what most of my nights consist of. To keep some overpowering men on our side, even some of the boys in blue, I handle some of their light work.
The streets are quiet, and I like it this way. Silence has become a dear friend of mine, a powerful ally that speaks volumes in its stillness. In the absence of noise, I find clarity and peace. The world’s chaos fades away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. In these moments of solitude, I feel most in control and most connected to who I truly am. The silence doesn’t judge or rush me; it simply exists, providing a sanctuary where I can gather my strength and prepare myself for whatever comes my way.
The warehouse is silent, save for the distant hum of the wind hitting loose pieces of dangling machinery. I can feel the cold cement beneath my boots, grounding me in the reality of the situation I have put myself in. The scent of oil and metal fills the air, a reminder of the world I am entrenched in.
“Ah, you made it, smart man.” A commanding voice comes out of the surrounding shadows. The man of the hour takes a step out and is followed by three of his men.
“I’d be a fool not to. You can’t expect a man like me to always act on impulse.”
“I would agree from what I have seen from you. However, the night you killed one of my men says something completely different.”
“Ah yes, the night I completely ground one of your men into hamburger meat.” I retort.
“Watch your words, Ghost. That is what they call you, right? The man that moves in the shadows without a trace? In complete silence, obliterating every target on his list?”
I sit there in silence, taking in all Marklov is saying. How the fuck does he know about me? He must have ties in places I’m not aware of. I need to have Raph look into that as soon as possible.
“Alright, let’s cut the chitchat, Marklov. What the hell do you want?”
“What do I want? More of what I need you to do. You can call this a form of payment.” His eyebrows lift.
I stand there waiting while he continues to play on his words.
“I first sent my men out to simply give you a job offer. I have been pleased with your work. My men didn’t do exactly as they were told, and I apologize for that.”
“What is it, Marklov?”
“You will first prove yourself to me, demonstrate that you’re worth keeping alive,” Marklov growled, his eyes cold and unforgiving. “I’m counting on you to make my life easier. Obey my commands, and your bike club won’t be reduced to ashes. Do as I say, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll see another day. Fail, and everyone you love will pay the price, even sweet, innocent Esmé .”
Those words cut through me like a hot blade. Esmés name on his tongue lights a fiery inferno inside me. What’s stopping me from pulling out my gun that his men didn’t even bother to check me for and ending it all right here with their brain chunks mixed together?
“Don’t ever fucking say her name again. You have no right. If you want my help with something because your men suck, just say so.”
Marklov chuckles and looks at each of his men as if thinking about what I am saying.
“You’re right. I don’t trust my men with what I have in store for you. They don’t fit the… Como se… criteria.”
Here’s the thing: after being in this game for so long, you learn something crucial. Taking out a leader is never a permanent solution. There’s always someone else ready to step in. It’s a never-ending cycle, a dark and twisted spiral of power and blood you can never truly escape.
I’ll be damned if Esmé becomes any part of this cruel world I’ve come to grow very accustomed to. She deserves better than the shadows and the constant dread that waits around every corner. This place has consumed me, but I won’t let it take her too.
What does he mean by what he has in store for me? What does this man have up his sleeve?
Marklov steps closer to me, extending his hand and waiting for one of his guys to hand him something. He snaps his fingers, showing his impatience, and finally, a tan folder is placed in his hand. The way he moves and the whole vibe of the scene feel like they’re ripped straight from a movie.
“In this folder, you will find your first job. It is pretty simple and hard to fuck it up. Don’t let me down, Ghost .”
I reach out to grab the folder, and he pulls it back quickly.
“Need I remind you? You are the only one who knows about this. Do not get anyone involved, or there will be consequences. I have eyes everywhere.”
I nod. “You have my word, let’s get this shit over with Marklov. No funny business.”
I wait as he gives me a little smirk that makes me want just to knock it off his wrinkled face. Marklov turns to his men, giving them a nod that signals it’s time to go.
The tension in the room is palpable, and I can feel my pulse quicken with flooding adrenaline. As they leave, I clutch the folder tightly, with a mixture of anger, knowing that this moment marks the beginning of something I can’t escape from. Well, I could, but it would only make matters worse for me. I am trapped. I have to do it to protect the ones I love. To protect Esmé.
Inside this folder is my first “job” for Marklov. The reality hits me hard—I’m now a hired hitman. I don’t like taking orders from anyone. I am my own fucking boss, and he is going to realize that soon enough. I will listen to what he has to say for the sake of Esmé, but nothing more.
Standing in this building sends a chill through my bones as memories claw their way back to the surface. The most vivid one takes me to my high school days. While others danced under the prom lights, I was here, weaving a dark masterpiece. Now frayed and ghostly, a rope still hangs as a grim reminder of that night. Ten years have passed, but the shadows of that night remain, whispering their sinister secrets and pulling me back into their haunting grasp.
I was consumed by jealousy. It’s wild how jealousy can twist a man’s mind, especially when he believes he’s in love. She had no idea I existed, but I knew everything about her in my head. Then there was Damaris, the poor bastard I thought was standing in my way, but that spot was rightfully his. I couldn’t fault him for wanting someone as stunning as her. But my twisted logic was clear: if I couldn’t have her, then no one could.
And that led to a dark, spiraling madness. My thoughts became consumed with the idea of eliminating any competition. I started to follow Damaris, studying his every move and plotting how to remove him from the equation. The lines between right and wrong blurred, and my obsession took over completely. It wasn’t just about the thought of love anymore; it was about possession and control. The more I thought about it, the more I believed that drastic measures were justified.
I had my right-hand man with me that night, Raphael. He did everything and more that I asked of him. That fool is truly a ride-or-die even to this day. Raph had his ways in high school and tricked Damaris into meeting him after he had a few drinks too many. That made my work easier. Before this place became what it is now, there were still light fixtures that worked and a couple of machines that ran.
I parked my bike off to the side of this building in a covered area so no one knew that I was in there. I had a backpack with a thick rope and set it up as a noose. Needless to say, when Buddy got here, we hung out for a while. And Damaris was no more after that. And the fucked up part is, I realized after all that I actually didn’t give two fucks about the bitch. I think I just needed something to distract me from life and everything I was going through. Killing did that for me.
After that, I promised myself never to get involved in relationships. The truth is, who knows what I would be capable of doing for someone I actually love? It’s a fucked up thing to say, I know.
I don’t even bother with sex; I never have the time or the need for it. It’s just not something that interests me right now. I mean, I’m a man, and I get bricked up at the thought, but life has other plans. I have my hand as a lifelong companion as well.
I’m also terrified at the thought of impregnating someone and creating another monster in this world. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. The truth is I’m the monster; I don’t deserve happiness, and I feel like I would be punishing my kid if I procreated.
No one needs to know about my lack of interest in such things or the reasons for it. In the back of my mind, I remember, “Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us and sometimes take control of us.” A saying my father used to say to me to make me think what he was teaching me was completely normal. Ain’t that the fucking truth.