Page 3 of Seth
“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” he mouthed in reply, and hope lit Justin’s eyes. “I’ve always loved you. You know that, right? You won’t suffer anymore. No one will ever hurt you, I promise.”
He thrust his hand deeper into the gaping chest and squeezed Justin’s heart. So soft, so gentle, he almost moaned as it resisted his touch with the most wonderful push. His soul cleared from the darkness as he pressed his lips to Justin’s bleeding mouth again. He never looked away from the blown pupils, vague with fear.
Yes, he truly loved this boy. Too bad he wasn’t the one.
Heavy rain clearedstreets off summer dust, heat, and people. During nights like this, Gustavo could enjoy almost post-apocalyptic serenity, disturbed only by the buzzing of tasteless neon signs. No car, no human crossed his way as he ghosted through the sleeping city. If not for the personal security team tailing him, he could imagine he’d been the only man left alive in Vienna. Their glares burned his back. He knew they rarely shared his enthusiasm for night walks, but he didn’t care.
Those who followed him couldn’t understand the value of solitude and silence. Surrounded by people day and night, Gustavo enjoyed seclusion. Maybe way too much. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d burnt out, if he’d lost his interest in the business and people altogether. Dealing with heroin became boring. The bigger the S-Syndicate became, the less excitement it provided.
He didn’t drive trucks anymore, didn’t hold his breath or finger a trigger every time his car was pulled over. He didn’t bribe border guards or kill police officers to save his hide. His life had become well-fed, luxurious, mundane. Instead of swaying guns, now he exchanged polite phone calls and handshakes, leaving all the dirty work to his subordinates and their hitmen.
Not for the first time, he caught himself wistful for the old days when he and Yugo had built the Empire in Vienna brick by brick.
He remembered the day he left Sicily. How his blood boiled while establishing new routes and partnerships, and the adrenaline tremor that seized his fingertips when he smuggled for the first time. Those days drowned in the past and became a distant dream.
Back then, life had been simpler. He’d always known who stood by his side and who to trust. Now he had to question everything and everyone.
Also, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been cut out to be a businessman. He hated sitting in the office all day and shaking sweaty palms. He didn’t find joy in developing new business plans and thinking through strategies for gaining more influence and territories. Checking accounting books and money laundering had always given him headaches.
He craved adrenaline and simple human relationships where he wouldn’t need to question every step his partner took, guessing in whose interests he’d acted.
Sucking in a deep breath, he embraced the calmness the big city provided. He looked at the dark swatches of clouds, wondering if it would rain again tonight, wanting the heavy drops to massage his face and wash out his exhaustion.
A lonely car passed by, breaking the moment. Screeching, it parked by a dark, old building. When the door swung open, loud hip-hop music filled the air ruining the remains of the glassy seclusion. Grimacing, Gustavo hastened into a gloomy alley, seeking the state of mind he’d lost a moment ago. Circling a blue waste container, he stepped over a puddle of water and slowed down as the alley narrowed. Spilled gasoline left an opalescent stain on the black asphalt, creating a mesmerizing effect. Watching it reflect the dead light of the moon, he didn’t notice that the alley ended with a tall fence, a black frame of the building-to-be looming behind.
Ever since he was a kid, he’d harbored a strong attraction for the imperfections of unfinished buildings and the air of danger. The rough, bare bones of unfinished carcasses had always entranced him, beckoned him. He used to run away from home in the middle of the night. Carrying only a flashlight, he always hunted for construction sites or old, abandoned buildings. Back then, his imagination created difficult but always interesting journeys full of danger and glory. Driven by a moment of nostalgia, he pressed his palm to the wooden fence; one of the planks slid aside.
“Gustavo?” Diego’s rollicking baritone called after him shattering the illusion of isolation. He’d already forgotten he wasn’t alone. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go back. It looks like it will rain again.”
Gustavo didn’t want to go back. It was silly; he understood that. What kind of danger could a construction site hold for a mature, armed man? It was more of an illusion, a mind game. Yet, somehow, it was the most exciting thing that had happened to him today, and he wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.
He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Wait in the car. I’ll be right back.”
Not waiting for the reply, he slipped through the gap.
The air shifted under a fitful gust of wind. The moon dimmed, hiding behind thick clouds. At first, Gustavo didn’t understand what strained his nerves. He glanced about, seeking something disturbing when it hit him.
No lights. All construction sites should have illumination at night, yet this one drowned in the gloom.
He squinted up, recognizing the sharp, powerful lines even though the building stood unfinished. Tall and narrow, like a blade, it stabbed the sky. He remembered seeing the project in papers; how it stole his attention, mesmerized him. The new business centerSkyBladenot only resembled a knife but was also designed to look as if they were washed in blood twice a day as the special glass coating the tip changed color from silver to red during twilight.
Now, at the dead of night, the unfinished skeleton of the future masterpiece bathed in an eerie, spooky atmosphere. His gaze darted around, searching for the silhouettes of streetlights. The nearest one stood a few feet away, lifeless, the second one not far behind.
A power cut?
Clouds swelled, eclipsed the moon. The salty, coppery smell came with the dark—the smell that made his hand seek the reassurance of the gun. He sucked a breath in, tasting the air. The distinctive, unmistakable tang of blood danced on the tip of his tongue, gluing his soles to the ground.
The wind changed, washing his face with the smell of wet concrete.
Losing the metallic tang, Gustavo stole toward the building, wondering if he’d imagined it. Step by step, he neared the gaping entrance until his foot crossed the border between the soggy ground and the concrete floor.
He halted as the stench of blood recurred and intensified. Whoever bled here had lost enough blood to stink up the vast, airy space.
Keeping in shadows, he scanned his surroundings for possible holes in the floor or stray metal rods. His heart sped up, filling him with adrenaline as he stole toward the source of the smell. He wanted danger, craved it. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he hoped it would be something more entertaining than a bunch of kids and a tortured to death dog.
Just as his eyes adapted, making out slight differences between the shades of night, the surroundings lightened. He threw his head up to check where the light came from. The full moon, shaking off the fetters of clouds, peeked through the round opening in the ceiling that went through all stories, perhaps, a massive elevator shaft.
Gustavo froze as something shifted under his foot, producing a subtle creak.
