19. Adrian
19
Adrian
I ’ve been through hell all my life, but this job definitely tops the list. After so many twists and turns, your mind starts playing tricks on you. It almost feels like we are driving through a maze before getting to the actual location.
The man I am today is because of the woman who raised me, and now I have to watch her die in pain. I never imagined my future would turn out like this—complete shit. I wanted to be something bigger, something more. Now I’m standing here in Marklovs yard, at full attention, dressed as dark as the shadows of night.
“Is everyone’s earpiece working? Testing, testing,” Levi’s voice crackles through, breaking the tense silence as we gear up for the night ahead.
Levi, one of Marklov’s most trusted right-hand men, who is always loyal and always the servant, ensures we’re all in sync. “Vega, you’ll be in the same spot as last time, outside Little Sinister’s room. The boss wants you there, no questions asked,” he commands with an air of authority.
Not that someone in my position would dare to question. I know better than to go against the Marklov and any of his given orders. I have seen what they do to those who do. Besides, being in that spot is perfect; it makes the plan run a hundred times smoother. The familiarity of the position gives me confidence, knowing exactly what to expect and how to handle any situation that may or may not come. The tension is palpable as I prepare for what’s to come, but there’s also a sense of readiness, a calm before the storm.
I nod, even though he can’t see me. Tonight’s the night everything for me changes. I either come out doing a Saint’s work or die trying. The plan is set, and there’s no turning back now. I can do this.
As we file into the mansion-like setting, Marklov is on the phone in the study room. He sounds like he wants to move someone—possibly Esmé, possibly Inés, or both. His voice is hurried, almost panicked, as if he knows a storm is coming. I keep my head down as we pass by, my boots soundless on the polished floors. If Marklov caught any of us addressing Inés, or even speaking her name, we would be as good as dead.
He looms tall, his figure cutting through the dim light like a predator surveying his domain. I avoid his gaze but can feel his presence pressing down on us as we start going our own ways. My heart pounds against my ribs like a prisoner beating on steel bars–an all too familiar feeling. My nerves feel raw and exposed, like fresh meat tossed into a shark tank.
I need to see Esmé, anything at all, so I know she is here to report back to Gabriel–Ghost, I mean, and his crew. The quicker we get this over with, the quicker I will be one step closer to becoming a free man.
I swallow hard and steady my breathing. This is it—my moment of reckoning. The night I either find redemption or meet the devil head-on. Either way, I’m not walking out the same man. I will give my life if that means doing right by Ghost and getting my mother the medication she needs.
The basement reeks of blood—sharp, metallic, and impossible to ignore. There’s a faint trace of cleaning supplies, but it’s old and too weak to cover up whatever horrors have gone down here. The air hangs heavy and thick, like it’s alive, pressing down on me, suffocating. The dim, flickering light overhead spits weak shadows across the not-so-shiny floor, making the space feel even more alive, like it’s watching, waiting–warming in a way.
It’s quiet. Everything is almost mute here, and no movement or sound comes from the room. No one has any idea what is coming—two men, both ready to tear each other apart for this woman. They’d bleed this whole city dry if it meant getting to keep her.
I creep closer and try to peek through the door. I get a slight glimpse of her. She’s there—shackled, curled up in the fetal position on the bed, fragile and lost. She probably thinks she has been forgotten. Her chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, oblivious to the storm brewing outside just for her and Es. She wouldn’t sleep so soundly if she knew what was about to happen.
Minutes drag, and the door from upstairs creaks open, cutting through the silence like a blade. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echo down the stairs, each fast-paced, measured, and full of purpose. It’s Levi. The thick beat of his polished boots on the concrete sends a shiver up my spine. He’s alone. His expression is cold and tense, like he’s bracing for a storm. Do they know? They can’t. That would be impossible. His brows are drawn low, shadowing his eyes, and his stride gives off a predator about to strike.
He stops and stands next to me.
“Is your earpiece working? I have been trying to radio in with you, and I’m not getting a response.” He whispers low so only we can hear his anger clearly.
I reach up to check and damn it. My power’s off. My thoughts must have distracted me during the check, and I forgot to turn it on. Levi comes up and smacks me on the back of the head like I’m some punk. It’s taking everything in me not to pounce on him right now. My jaw clenches so tight that a ringing noise rises in my ears. I can feel my blood boiling, and my fists are itching to swing. When shit hits the fan, I swear I’m calling dibs on this bastard.
We stand in silence for a moment as I adjust my earpiece, not for him but for when Ghost taps in. Tormenta moves the chains, making a noise, and Levi’s eyes widen in pleasure. He instantly reaches up to call upstairs.
“She’s awake, sir.” Silence follows. They have their own station they communicate on. Levi smirks for a moment. I stay silent and to myself as usual.
Not even ten minutes pass before the door opens yet again. The sound is different from when Levi approached. Marklovs steps are calm and collected. His face comes into view and is relaxed, cool, calm, and collected. Fucking animal.
The faint light overhead catches on the rings stacked across Marklovs fingers, throwing sharp glints of silver and gold into view. He flexes his hand absentmindedly, the metal clinking softly as if to remind everyone who holds the power here. He thinks he does. He doesn’t speak or even look my way, but I can feel his mood radiating off him like heat—dangerous and predatory.
Levi’s jaw is tight, his hands buried across his chest, but there’s something in his eyes. Marklov swings the room door open. He stops a few feet from the woman on the bed, saying something that causes her to flinch. He stares down at her like she’s a piece of art created just for him. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t move much. The chains around her pale skin catch the faint light, cold and unyielding, a perfect match for the man standing over her.
I stay put, stationed outside the door, keeping a close watch. Levi trails behind Marklov like the obedient little dog he imagines himself to be, always eager to please. I do my best to act like none of this is getting to me, treating it like the shit job it’s supposed to be. My heart’s racing, and the adrenaline is making me itch, but I keep my cool. A beep comes through my earpiece, snapping me back to the moment.
Let’s get this party started, amigos.