Chapter 21 #2
I tilt my head, studying him the way you study something broken.
Jeremy—the big guy, the gym rat. Muscles stacked on his frame like armor, armor he’s used to corner people weaker than him.
To corner Lucas. He’s built himself up on protein shakes and intimidation, and still, just one punch from me had him curled on the floor like a child.
His bloodshot eyes meet mine now, and his panic deepens.
“What do you want?” he seethes, and this time I smile.
The door creaks open behind me, and a guard steps in, dragging someone else behind him. The man’s face is swollen, his lip split open, wrists tied with thick rope. He stinks of piss and sweat. Whatever he did to end up here, I don’t care. He’s just a piece on the board now.
The guard shoves him down onto the chair beside Jeremy. The two are seated side by side. A new type of fear blooms in Jeremy’s eyes, the kind that comes when you realize this isn’t just about you anymore.
Another guard enters.
Carrying a black suitcase, he opens it on the table beside me, and nestled in the velvet lining is a revolver.
Polished. Cold. Hungry.
I reach for it and hear Jeremy gasp like the air has been ripped out of his lungs.
“What—what are you—”
“Let’s play a game,” I say softly, cutting him off. “Russian roulette. You know it?”
He stares at me like I’ve grown horns. I smile again.
“I’ll explain. One bullet. Six chambers. I spin. Point. Then pull the trigger. You live, we go again. You die…” I shrug, then glance at the older man. “Well. One less soul to worry about.”
“Y-you’re insane,” Jeremy whispers.
“Possibly,” I murmur, flipping the chamber open with a soft click. I slide a single bullet in, spin it. The cylinder blurs in a smooth whirl, then locks with a sharp clack.
“This will be your third time playing this game, right?”
The question is meant for the older man, and he glares at me with disdain in his eyes. he doesn’t say anything, but the rise and fall of his chest tells me he’s as scared as Jeremy.
“Well, let’s see if you’ll get lucky again today,” I say as I walk around them slowly. Letting them feel me circling like a fucking vulture.
I stopped behind Jeremy first.
His shoulders flinch when the cold barrel kisses the back of his head.
I lean down, just enough so he can hear my breath.
“You bullied someone who couldn’t fight back,” I whisper. “That’s the part that pisses me off the most.”
“Wait, what?” he asks
I pull the trigger.
It clicks. nothing
Jeremy lets out a sharp breath, his whole body shaking. I can hear his teeth clacking.
I hum softly, spin the cylinder, and then move behind the other man. He stares forward, silent. There’s a kind of dignity in him. Or maybe he’s just used to this game.
Click.
Still empty.
The tension hangs in the air like a cloud of smoke. I smile again, a little wider now, and spin the chamber once more.
“Let’s keep going, shall we?”
On and on it went; they twitched, flinched, and Jeremy couldn’t stop blabbing and begging.
Every time it clicks, I feel them unraveling.
After a while, I sigh, then walk to the front, crouching between them like I’m hosting a fucking game show.
“Let’s raise the stakes,” I say calmly, “Getting bored, and I have a dinner to attend tonight.”
I take a second bullet. Slowly, deliberately. I hold it up between my fingers so they can see.
Their faces turn white.
Spin.
Point.
Click.
Jeremy cries out, flinching hard.
Another spin. I point it at the older man this time.
Click.
Still blank.
“Fuck—please, please stop—” Jeremy is crying now, his nose running, his voice shrill with real terror. “I don’t even know who you are!”
I cock my head, as if considering that.
“Good,” I say.
Spin.
Point.
Jeremy again.
Click.
“Shit—”
Spin.
I aim at the older man.
And pull.
BANG.
The shot blasts through his skull. And his body jerks back in the chair lifelessly, blood exploding in a wet spray that paints the side of Jeremy’s face, neck, and shirt.
His scream rips through the silence, raw and guttural, like something torn from his soul.
He thrashes against the restraints, choking on the stench, sobbing so hard I think he might pass out.
I stand with a sigh, setting the revolver down on the table
Then I walk over to Jeremy and lean in, my face close to his.
I tap his cheek twice.
He flinches.
“Lucky bastard,” I murmur. “Be ready for another round when I return.”
I rise and turn towards Greg
“Feed him,” I say. “Keep him breathing. I’m not done with him yet.”
I don’t wait for a response. I walk out, the echo of my boots swallowing the rest of his screams.
***
I arrive at my penthouse just after six pm, then head upstairs, taking off my black denim jacket and my shirt. The smell of blood clings to me — I’ve always hated the smell of it.
The water is scalding when I step into the shower. I let it run over me.
For a second, I imagine Lucas in the bathroom with me. Would he still look at me the same if he saw me like this? Would he still smile? I remember the way he had smiled at me on Thursday when he ate that sushi. I want him to smile at me like that again.
I breathe deep. The thought settles into something that twists beneath my ribs, something close to longing. I can handle the blood. The demons in my head, among other fucked up shit in my life, but I’m not sure I can handle losing the one thing that softens it.
By the time I step out of the steam, I feel… clearer. Sharper.
I towel off, head to the walk-in closet, and dress slowly into my Black tailored suit. I’m knotting my tie when the phone buzzes across the dresser.
Mother.
Swiping answer, I put it on speaker.
“Alex, darling,” she sings, voice full of warmth and unnecessary drama. “You haven’t called me in days. I thought maybe you died somewhere. Have you died? Do I need to come identify the body?”
I huff out a breath—half a laugh.
“No, Mother.”
“That’s funny, because you didn’t call. Or visit. Which means I have to assume the worst.”
“I took you Cartier shopping four days ago.”
“Was that days ago? It felt like four months ago. And you didn’t even let me buy you anything, which is rude. You know I like it when you let me spoil you, too.”
I smirk and adjust the knot at my neck.
“Next time.”
“When will you be here? The party’s starting soon.”
“In about an hour or so,” I reply
There’s a pause. And then her voice changes—lighter and Curious.
“He’s coming too, right?”
I glance at the watch I’m choosing from the drawer, then smile quietly.
“Yes, Mother. I’m picking him up soon.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Her joy is so genuine that it tugs at something in my chest. “He must be something special. You never talk about anyone, Alex. Not like that night.”
My smile fades just slightly. I remember that night.
The alley. The blood on my knuckles.
And him.
Staring at me with wide eyes and still… not running.
I called her that same night. I always call her whenever I am confused about what I feel. She has always been my confidante in anything.
“He looked at me like he saw something no one else sees,” I had told her that night.
“And how did that make you feel?” she had asked.
“It makes me want to claim him,” I’d said.
And she’d replied, “Then capture it. Don’t let it go.”
That was all.
“See you boys soon,” she says now.
The call ends.
I slip on my watch, smooth my suit jacket, and take one last look in the mirror.