Page 8 of Bastian

Now

“Whoever said if you love something

set it free is one dumb motherfucker.” – Ben

“I must say that beating your ass at cards doesn’t feel as satisfying as it used to when you act like a miserable fuck, Mr. President.” The bane of my existence, Sandoval, mocks me as he pushes his chips toward the middle of the table.

Leaning back on the chair, I throw my chips at him, and before he grabs them to declare himself the winner, I show him my cards.

A royal flush.

The highest poker hand.

The fucker laughs as if losing three million and a brand-new white Rolls Royce Boat Tailis nothing.

I guess for men like us it is like losing a tooth.

It is worth nothing.

Doesn’t even hurt.

“You are one disturbed individual, Sandoval. How you are so happy when you just lost another family business, a car, and a great deal of money tonight is beyond me.” I take a sip of my whiskey and place the glass down next to my winnings.

Even that does not thrill me anymore.

Winning.

It used to.

Oh, it was all I cared about aside from my daughter, but now it doesn’t feel the same.

The boss of the Sandoval crime family shrugs and takes a long drag of his cigar before expelling the smoke my way. “It’s just material shit, Seb. It all can be replaced or earned back.” He mumbles while chewing on his cigar. Taking a good look at my friend, I notice the dark circles under his eyes are less visible, and he doesn’t look as terrible as he did the last time I saw him, but the hatred and anger the death of his loved ones caused still linger, only more intense and fresher now that he lost his right-hand man.

Rodrigo Valencia.

One of the best men he had.

A criminal with a good heart.

That is hard to come by.

Sandoval only had him after losing his entire family, and now only the shell of a man I once knew remains.

Angry.

Fuck, at times, suicidal.

We wait in silence for the dealer to finish setting up the table and hand us our cards.

One of the many things we have in common is the loss of the ones we loved most, but unlike him, I didn’t have to witness my little girl being murdered in front of me.

Nothing could ever make that right.

Nothing.

It’s still a mystery to me how his heart still beats after his daughter’s stopped.

Fuck, just the thought of that happening to me makes my body grow cold.

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