Page 30 of Lesson on Depravity

“Xavier—” I flinch at the name as Javier’s name punches me in the gut, but Daddy continues. “His drug manufacturing warehouse got raided by a tip, and this airborne meth attack through the ventilation system is his way of getting back at everyone.”

A thick glob of saliva slides down my throat as a nervous tick on my cheek twitches. “Why this place?”

No one in this company has any relations to the drug-running boss, but people have secret lives. It’s just hard to believe that so many coincidences are connected to me ever since I came back from my two weeks of living independently.

Javier’s disappearance and my ability to see him even though others don’t, Auntie Jessie, this successful job position, and now this weird chemical attack. I honestly thought drugs were a commodity that only people with money can get their hands on, but Xavier wasted this much drug on revenge for his warehouse being raided by police.

“Xavier’s doing this to push my buttons because he knows that I treasure you, Coco. And he thinks that it’s someone from this company tipped them off, but he doesn’t have proof. The third reason is that this company works closely with the police, and he wanted this to be a big “fuck you” to them.”

I’m speechless at the list of reasons. I have never met Xavier before, and I don’t know why he would come after me. He’s likely trying to hurt me through collateral damage and use that chance to make Daddy distracted so he could take over the gun-running organization too.

A man with too much ambition will fall on his own sword, and Daddy is not a compassionate person.

“Whoever his source is, they wanted to make sure this building was hit.” Daddy’s jaw clenches tightly, and the pulsing vein on his neck throbs.

“Please don’t do anything reckless, Daddy.” I grasp his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the rough hair on his jaw.

He clicks his tongue, seething anger reaching a boiling point. I kiss his hand, murmuring in a soft voice against the calloused skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I plead to him with another kiss.

Daddy captures my lips, hand locking around my waist and growling in his chest. His lips pepper my face with kisses, unbothered by the people coming closer to us to avoid the building.

“Xavier came after you, princess, Daddy will never let that go.”

I pray for everyone; the innocent civilians living in both territories, the rain that would be washing away the blood spilled on the ground, and the depletion of half the population of Xavier’s men.

I pray the most for when Daddy gets his bare hands on Xavier; the man will wish he was never born.

Chapter Nine

Alistair

As a veteran criminal, the first thing I would tell those rising talents in the same playing field to never live a life of patterns.

That is one of the biggest downfalls that will either land them in prison or dead.

Xavier is not the brightest tool in the box. I have had his daily life and patterns in the back of my mind after I had Tito follow him for months. It’s embarrassing to know that he calls himself the boss of a multimillion drug organization when he openly lives a life of luxury and habitual routines.

Maybe he’s so confident in his men and the precautionary barrier of his territory that he blatantly ignores the risk of getting killed as if people with sniper skills and explosive ordnance background can’t kill him from a distance.

Midnight ticks away, the moon casting shadows on buildings and coveting the unrestful enjoyment of a game between hunters and prey.

One o’clock pitter and patter away with the rain of the season. Two o’clock circle the bright moonlight with heavily grayed clouds. Three o’clock sings the song of suppressors cutting through the night tranquility. Four o’clock comes with a thunderstorm drowning the voices of the dead.

The blood has been thickening, turning my latex white gloves into a mess of viscous crimson. A choked and frightful cry comes through a shuddering chest, bare and pinned down with limbs strapped down into a pathetic starfish.

I’m a fair man. I don’t fuck with people, and they don’t fuck with me. I hate having territorial wars, and I hate disagreements that lead to violence, even more, I prefer keeping things nice and clean.

It’s why I got into the gun business. The meaning behind the weapon is clear; there is no mess like a knife would bring, and it’s impersonal with multiple chances to make sure the target is down.

That doesn’t mean I have no experience of getting my hands extra bloody on a bad day. I have had them a lot lately, and it’s all because of Xavier and that devious woman.

I’ll deal with her later. Xavier is in front of me, and it would be rude of me to make him wait any longer after making him watch I cut his men open with a boxcutter. He did end up vomiting when I took out the bolt cutter to snap the rib cages open for an in-house show.

His men were already dead by then from shock at being cut open, but Xavier wasn’t scared enough just yet.

This is my first time trying out this method of torture, and snapping individual ribs is similar to cutting the locks off chains. The ribs had to use more power in my biceps, but it was relatively easy to hear to sickeningly satisfying cracks.

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