Page 30 of Nocturne
The bullet cracks through his skull with a dry snap. Blood, brains, and bits of bone splatter across the cracked concrete, spraying onto my boots.
The last one runs. Desperate. His silhouette dissolves into the dark like it’s swallowing him whole. I don’t run. I just walk — slow, heavy steps, like each one’s a reminder that this night ain’t fucking over yet.
I let out a tired breath. I need to finish this shit.
I pull out my gun and, without rushing, fire two clean shots — right to the bastard’s leg. He crashes to the ground, screaming, groaning, trying to drag his bleeding body along the concrete road.
"Why’d you have to run, dumbass?" I shake my head, disappointed. "If you’d stayed the fuck still, maybe you wouldn’t have caught two bullets. Right?"
"What the fuck do you want?!" he growls, trying to spit at me.
I dodge with disgust and answer with two sharp kicks to his gut. One. Two. He folds over and groans,spitting blood.
"Let’s get this shit over with." I crouch down, face-to-face with him. Blood streams from his legs in thick red rivers. He presses his hands over the wounds, but it’s useless. He’s losing the fight, against time and against me.
"I don’t know shit, I swear... I swear I don’t know anything!" his voice cracks, shaking, out of control.
I give him a crooked smile.
"Oh, you fucking know." I tilt my head. "You really think Landon Steele, your sorry-ass boss, would send just anyone to pick up this kind of drug load?"
He looks away. Fear. Guilt. Confirmation.
“Come on, man. I know shit.” I lean in closer, close enough to smell his adrenaline. "Or you think I’m some dumb fuck? Maybe you and Landon are fucking. Or best buds." I smile again, darker this time, before my face hardens. "You’re gonna talk."
"Landon... he just tells me what to do, I... I’m not part of anything else, I swear to God, man! Swear on my life!" Crawling inch by inch, he tries to get away. But ghosts like me don’t let anyone escape.
"A little shy, huh? No worries, that’s easy to fix." Rising up, three brutal kicks land. His body twists, screams tear out, blood coughs up. He tries to yell, but pain swallows every word.
"What the fuck are you bastards doing in Boston? What Landon’s planning? Fuck the money you stole, I want more." Voice cracks for a second. Swallowing hard, trying to hold down the weight pressing in.
"Man... chill..." he gasps. "It’s trafficking...international. Guns, drugs. I just heard stuff, don’t know details... some shit like that, you feel me?"
A short, cold laugh slips out.
"Nah, don’t ‘feel’ shit. You’re the one who’s gonna talk, motherfucker!"
Hesitation, a deep breath. Like he’s about to betray someone.
"Landon... he’s got help from politicians. Big names. He’s gearing up to come to Boston for real. Said this city’s the perfect hub for international trafficking. And..." he swallows hard, "he’s planning a massacre. Against you guys."
Truth spills out like poison. Regret hits fast.
"That’s all I know, man. Swear on everything."
Silence for a few seconds. Just staring.
"You’re smart. I like you, y’know that?" A soft breath. "But killing... killing’s become my favorite hobby. And tonight... you just had the bad luck of crossing my path."
"What? No, wait! I told you everything I kno—"
Too late.
Two knives come out, cold, heavy, blades already thirsty. My hands shake just a little, not from fear, but from the weight of what’s about to happen. Dropping over him, the first blade sinks into his right eye. The scream cuts the air open, and for a moment, something twists inside me. But there’s no mercy tonight. The second drives into the left eye. He thrashes, screams, blood explodes, painting face and hands. Tries to push me off, pathetic effort. One knife rips free. A single slice across the throat, clean andwide.
Silence.Just blood dripping on concrete.
Breathing hard, eyes scan the mess, bodies, blood, that thick metallic stink of death soaking the air. Step by step, back through the carnage left behind. Up the concrete slope to the high ground watched from minutes ago, perfect view, dead quiet.
