Page 14 of Monstrous Grave

With a heavy sigh, I look back at the warehouse from the open garage door, its minimal interior stretching out before me, devoid of any signs of the corpse or gory scene I witnessed.

“I think we’re done, yeah?” A deep voice comes from beside me, and I glance at Alec standing by the doorway to the warehouse.

His shirt clings to his chest with sweat, panting and huffing from the work of getting rid of a corpse. Said corpse is a fucking bulky guard as well, clad in a uniform adorned with the Grimaldis’ emblem on the front.

I called Alec the moment the video feed stopped on my phone, erased without a trace. It dawned on me that whoever had been there, carving my initials into the body, possessed greater hacker skills than I. I’ve never gotten rid of a body before, so the first person I thought to call was Alec, although he wasn’t very happy when he realized I went on this mission without Viper.

I know I can always count on Alec to show up when I need him to, and within ten minutes of calling, he was here, helping me clean up the bloody mess.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but it was fucking stupid of you to go against my father’s orders like you did.”

“You’re right; I don’t want to hear it.”

I turn my back to Alec, but he grabs my wrist harshly. “I care about you, A, but you had one mission. Goddamn it. If my father finds out about this—”

“Then don’t tell him,” I cut him off, glaring into his eyes to emphasize my seriousness.

An ominous feeling settles over our surroundings as I stand inside the warehouse with Alec, and I know we’ll have to leave soon if we want to avoid getting caught. It feels as if someone, somewhere, is watching me.

Could it be him? The man who carved my initials into the dead guard? The biker I’ve heard so much about? But why would he be here?

Because you’ve pissed him off, a voice chimes in my head.

“You know I can’t lie to him,” Alec says.

“Then ignore the subject.”

“I know how mad he’ll be, but I will be forced to tell him if you don’t follow his orders.”

“You don’t even know half of the shit he has done to me.” I shudder at the recollection of what Benjamin Valenti has put me through—ordering me to kneel, kiss his shoes, degrade myself for his liking. Rage overtakes me as I suppress the memories. “But I appreciate you not telling him.”

Alec squeezes my shoulder, but there’s something off in his expression—a coldness or calculation I can’t quite place, as if he harbors secrets.

Casting one final look inside the warehouse, he begins his walk from the dock, and I greedily follow him, eager to leave the construction. The corpse is already rotting away in the trunk of his car, and I’m glad he’ll be the one completely disposing of it.

After saying goodbye to Alec, I’m left alone, annoyed at not having received what I’d planned.

I can’t help but feel that sense of being watched again, more prominent than before. It’s as if the breeze of the wind reveals where this someone is, and I cast a glance over my shoulder once more, paranoid and searching through the darkness, revealing that indeed no one is there. It’s only me and the vast expanse of the sea stretching out before me.

The wind picks up its pace, its weight bearing down on me, and the first drops of rain begin to fall, drowning the world in a shimmering glow and persuasive dampness. The unsettling feeling of being observed persists, but I attempt to ignore it, turning back to my bike, more than ready to leave this place behind.

I know that the initials carved into the guard was a warning, but from whom, I do not know. Tomorrow, I’ll have to return to attempt to find the schematics once more. Deep in my bones, I feel that something isn’t right, yet I cannot grasp the nature of this impending unease.

——————

The wind howls outside, causing trees to scratch against the windows as if they are animals demanding to enter. I toss and turn in bed, unease trickling through me, only increasing with each passing second.

The image of the corpse with my initials carved into its flesh is seared into my mind, fueling my paranoia. I can’t shake the feeling that evidence of us being there remains, that the Grimaldis will believe it was us who killed one of their guards.

My gaze is blurry as I look at the clock on my nightstand, the red text shining through the otherwise pitch-black room, showing that it’s three a.m.

The drive home on my bike, usually exhilarating, lost its thrill in the rain. It felt like a storm had brushed over town, wind gusts making my bike sway at every curve, and the asphalt slippery from puddles. Throughout the ride, an eerie sensation of being watched gripped me, intensified by the unknown biker’s cryptic message through the video feed. Despite driving alone in the middle of the night, it was as if I could hear the breaths of someone following, the distant revving of an engine trailing my bike.

With a deep breath, I glance at the clock, now revealing that it’s three thirty a.m. The wind continues to brush against the apartment’s window, branches knocking against the panes, only growing more violent. Through the curtains, I see the first strike of lightning splitting the sky with a silver glow, contrasting greatly with the blackened color of the night.

Soon after, thunder strikes, rumbling through the windows as if it’s inside my bedroom. I hug the blanket closer to me, hating the fact that I’m still affected by the frightening sound of thunder. There’s something about the thunder’s intensity that always makes me unnerved, like a disconcerting echo. I take a deep breath to compose myself as a memory comes washing over.

“What are you so scared of?”

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