31. Attila
31
ATTILA
W e’re half way through going over our plan when Cesar gets a phone call. He’s gone from The Jekyll to TJ, and now he’s Cesar. I insist on calling him by his real name, and somehow, this one act has strengthened our bond.
“It’s my contact,” he says, walking a short distance away. Dante and I look across the table at one another, then watch as Cesar paces back and forth while he takes the call. He listens carefully, looking back at us only once before finishing the call and coming back toward us.
“A development?” Dante asks, his eyebrows rising.
“We may have a problem.”
We wait quietly as Cesar considers his words before spitting them out. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
“Coyin Castillo is throwing a party.”
We both look at Cesar like he’s lost his mind, even though the news didn’t originate from him.
“What kind of a party?” Dante asks, and I note the caution in his voice.
“An auction. And the way I hear it, he’ll be auctioning the girl off.”
* * *
Two things happen to me all at once. My body starts to hum with an involuntary vibration, and a red hot fireball of anger surges through me until I literally can’t see in front of me. This has only ever happened to me once before, and although I recognize what it is, there’s no way I can warn the others what’s about to happen.
I throw my head back and roar, my bellow invading the air all around us. My hands grasp the desk in front of me, and I’ve overturned it even before anyone can make a move toward me. The desk and all its contents go crashing to the ground. I kick the chair that stood behind the desk, and it scuttles and goes crashing into the wall with a heavy thud, leaving its mark with a gaping hole.
I don’t see anything in front of me. There is movement around the room, and the echo of voices, but I’m otherwise blind as a raging fury obliterates my view. I cross the room, my hands landing on the bookshelf; I don’t even notice what’s on the shelves. But with a swipe of my hands, I’ve emptied the shelves and the books go crashing to the ground in a heap at my feet.
Strong arms grab mine, bending them backwards as I’m held back, and I feel the pinch of handcuffs as they close around my wrists, binding me with metal. I continue to gnash, my body lashing out at everything and anything it connects with. I scream again, my voice a deafening pierce that shrouds the night in its unforgiving pain.
“Attila. Attila!”
Dante’s voice starts to take shape in my ears as his image materializes in front of me. Cesar is holding me back, restraining me from doing any further damage. A calming balm washes over me as Dante continues to say my name, accepting my insolence without actually understanding it.
* * *
When I’m finally calm enough to see straight, Dante comes into view. He’s sitting in front of me, leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his outstretched legs. He watches me like a hawk, curious but without judgment.
“Don’t make me call Caleph,” he warns. Which is just the thing he needs to say to me, because neither of us wants to ruin Caleph’s honeymoon. I know that Dante needs an explanation, but he doesn’t probe. Instead, he watches me, waiting for me to give him something. I notice that Cesar is not in the room — it’s just Dante and me, and the room is trashed beyond acceptable.
“This happened to me once before,” I tell him, trying to explain. It’s not something I can control; like a phenomenon that appears then just as quickly disappears.”
“That time when Caleph got shot,” he says, and I don’t know if he guesses or if he’s aware. He answers my curiosity. “I heard about it.”
“I can’t control it.”
“You can,” Dante says, and I hate that he feels like he needs to give me a counselling session, a pep talk.
“It comes on so suddenly, it consumes me.”
“The girl is obviously your trigger,” Dante says, sitting back in his chair. “What happened between you two?”
“It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing just now.”
I sigh and look up at the ceiling, praying for the patience I need to keep up with this conversation. I don’t know what Dante will think if he finds out I slept with Luna. For some reason, it matters to me what he would think. It matters a lot.
“Where’s Cesar?” I ask.
“He stepped out. Tell me you can keep your cool through this. I can’t have you losing your shit when it matters.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Ahhh… but you can’t guarantee me this.”
“It was a moment. It’s fine now. I’ve got this.”
It was a moment. One I never want to relive again. Hearing that Coyin Castillo planned to auction off his daughter struck at something deep inside my soul. I didn’t think I had it in me, but I found that I cared. I care what happens to her, and I care that some dirty old bastard won’t think twice about bidding on her. If the circles that Castillo moves in are any indication, there will be only perverts and monsters at that auction. The thought makes my blood simmer and I have the urge to kill someone. To kill them all; every last man that attends that auction with the intention of defiling Luna Castillo.
“It’s not a weakness to feel, Attila,” he tells me. “We’re men made of steel and grit and power, but we’re still human. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t care.”
“I shouldn’t care.”
Dante shakes his head and disagrees.
“Think not what you should or shouldn’t do. But how you can change the situation.”
“She means nothing to me,” I say, but I sound like I’m trying to convince myself more than I’m trying to convince him.
“Regardless. Any one of us would be considered morally vacant if you don’t care what happens to her.”