Chapter 11
eleven
Damon
I’m drenched in sweat, the metal bar pressing against my palms, a familiar weight reminding me of the discipline that binds me to this world. We work hard, but play harder.
My phone rings, and I mutter under my breath. I glance at the screen; it’s my father, and I know from the set of my jaw that this is not a social call.
“Damon,” he greets, his voice thick with urgency. “We have a situation.”
I stop mid-lift, the bar slipping slightly as my heart thuds in sync with the thrum of my thoughts. I set it down, turning away from the mirror that reflects a man hardened by this life. A life that now seems to narrow around me, closing in like a vice. “What’s happened?”
“There’s been an issue with a rival. We’ve taken care of it, but now we need to deal with the body.”
“Dead?” The weight of the word presses on my chest. I try to shake off the growing knot in my stomach. “Is it even worth the trouble?”
“It’s not about worth; it’s about message. We can’t afford mistakes, and right now, we’re showing them weakness. Get over here,” he commands, and there’s an edge in his tone that makes it clear there’s no room for argument.
The gym fades around me, replaced by the mental images of what’s to come.
I can feel the conflicting waves crashing over me: the excitement that pulses through the promise of power mingles with an undercurrent of regret that pulls me back.
My fingers tighten against the weight of my phone, a reminder of the decisions that shape this life and the fear that grips my heart.
“I’ll be there,” I mutter, disconnecting the call.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, lingering at the edge of my workout, energy now slipping away as the reality of the mafia life reasserts itself with grim determination.
As I exit the gym, the scents of leather and iron slip away, replaced by the outside air.
A coolness that serves only as a reminder of the chaos that awaits.
The drive is suffocating in silence, the dashboard lights flickering ominously as my mind wanders to the implications of this latest endeavor.
It’s a ritual in our world, disposing of bodies as if it were a mundane chore; I wrestle with the threads of justification that begin to unravel.
Each time we remove a threat, we grow stronger, yet each act of violence sends a tremor through my consciousness and something inside me struggling against the inevitability of it all.
The memory of Lily surfaces, uninvited but undeniable, igniting a surge of warmth that cuts through the tension like a flame against the cold.
I picture her laughter echoing in my mind, the simple beauty of our connection, and I find myself hesitating.
Should I have sent her flowers? A gesture to show that even amidst the darkness, there’s a glimmer of light?
But I shake off the thought; this is the reality of my life.
She’s been in the shadows too long as it is.
Protecting her means safeguarding her from the chaos that defines us, not drawing her into it.
And as the night stretches ahead, my resolve tightens.
No matter how often I grapple with the violence that clings to my existence, I’ll ensure it never touches her.
I pull up to the warehouse, my heart a relentless drum echoing the weight of my decisions.
I spotted Warren’s red Jeep and Xavier’s BMW already there. The guys and I have multiple vehicles along with our bikes.
As I step out, ready to face whatever brutal task awaits, I remind myself of what I need to do.
The thrill of power and influence in our world comes with blood on its hands, but that doesn’t mean I have to let it spill over into her life.
Not while I still have the ability to shield her from the storm brewing around us.
I may be a criminal, but I do have morals.
With each step forward, I steel myself, ready to dive into the darkness, even as I keep her image tucked away.
The warehouse looms before us. The waves of the ocean lap against the shore and the concrete of the shipping yard.
It’s dark, and the majority of the crew is gone.
My guys stand by, tension brimming in the air as we prepare to face the task at hand, the dead weight of our latest mistake lingering like a shroud over us all.
“Get him out,” I bark, my voice cutting through the tension as I try to reclaim a sliver of authority amidst the unease festering inside me. We’ve all been caught in this cycle of violence and darkened by the looming presence of a rival who dared to cross us.
They haul the man I was called here for from the car, his body limp, barely conscious, a bruise blooming across his face.
His terror seeps into the air, tangling with the scent of iron that fills my nostrils.
It’s a chilling reminder of the violence we’re about to partake in.
I can see the fear sparking in his eyes, yet what grips me is not the feeling of power, but a deep discomfort twisting in my gut.
As he’s thrown onto the cold concrete below us, I can’t ignore the sharp pang of guilt that slices through me. He’s a pawn in our game, but he’s still a man.
“Damon!” Warren shouts, snapping me back to the moment as they begin to restrain him. “What do you want to do?”
Xavier and my dad had filled me in on the issue while I was driving across town.
Apparently, one of the shipping yard employees had been taking items out of the shipments our crew was working on.
He had been helping himself to the illegal guns being shipped to us, which we sold to other crews.
One thing our family doesn’t take lightly is when someone messes with our money.
“He needs to know what happens when he crosses us,” I reply, forcing my voice steady as anger thrums in my veins. But even as the words escape, I feel the conflict smolder within me. “You thought you could just steal from us?”
I rear my arm back and punch the man. My fist throbs as I hear his jawbone cracking.
Blood splatters out of his mouth and across my shirt and neck.
Warren and Xavier join in, and I spot Warren wearing his brass knuckles.
Each blow sends ripples through me, the man's cries before me tethering me to the reality of our lives.
I hate the violence; I hate how it pulls me into this darkness.
But as we continue, the lines blur. Am I an animal or a man? Killer or hunter? Each punch strikes not just against skin but against the mounting resentment swirling inside me, tainted by frustration that I can’t shake off. Why must it always end this way?
The man’s desperate cries tug at the strings of my heart as he begs for mercy. But the hands of fate have already dealt their cards, and we all play the roles assigned to us. “Keep him quiet,” I order, my voice hardening even as regret slithers down my spine.
Warren stuffs a rag in the man’s mouth, but he’s already starting to pass out.
I stand back, fists clenched, my own internal struggle sparking as the violence unfolds. It sickens me to witness it, yet I can’t look away. This is the cost of power; the inevitable chaos of bloodshed taints our hands as we send a message.
When we finally pause, the man can barely open his eyes. He’s covered in blood, and bruises are already forming. “You’ll pay for this,” he hisses.
If my father were here, taking care of this himself, he would kill this man and send the body back to his enemies in pieces. However, he sent us to complete this job, and it’s going to be done my way.
“Dig,” I commanded, gesturing toward the freshly turned earth nearby, the grave awaiting its contents.
Xavier and Warren both look at me, eyes wide in confusion. They both know that I’m not a murderer. I take a step back, the scene playing out like a warped nightmare.
“Keep digging!” I bark. A few of our guys dig as they watch me and every once in a while glance at Xavier and Warren.
“We are going to bury him alive. Then, our fathers can send a message that if his guys want him alive, they can come dig him up,” I finish.
I text my dad our location and my instructions. He’s not happy, but he agrees. As I said, he sent us on this mission, and it’s going to be done our way.
As I leave hours later, I glance at myself in the mirror of my Range Rover. I wonder if Lily would still want me if she knew the dark and depraved things I’ve done.
Would she still smile sweetly at me if she saw the blood staining my body and clothes? I just have to hope and pray that she will still want me once she’s discovered the monster under the mask.