Page 65 of August and the Night

The tires screech as we pull out onto the road, the city lights painting streaks of color across the night. The chase has begun, and every turn, every twist of the road brings us closer to our target. The adrenaline surges through my veins, a mix of anticipation and resolve propelling me forward.

Dante's grip on the steering wheel is steady, his focus unwavering as he navigates through the streets. Our pursuit is relentless, a dance as we close in on Arthur's fleeing vehicle. We quickly block his car and get out of ours, marching towards him with the need to kill. During the chase, we end up on a secluded road, which is really bad for Arthur and great for us.

Dante tries to open Arthur’s car door but it is locked. Arthur’s face is pale as he looks at us in fear and when Dante breaks the car’s window to unlock the door, I am pretty sure he peed himself. I remove him from the car roughly by his collar and throw him to the ground.

Our fists plummet into him, taking turns to smash his face in. We spend about an hour just hitting, kicking, and punching him. Every time he goes unconscious we wake him just so he can feel the pain again and again. I never once thought that I would turn into this bloodthirsty beast, but just the thought of what this man wanted to do with my Layla is enough for murderous rage to rise up my throat.

After we beat him an inch for his life, we leave him bruised and battered near a police station, and we depart back to my office after Dante switches cars, effectively erasing any trace of the car we used for the race.

As we settle into the space, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm light, I lean back in my chair, my fingers steepled in thought. "I've spoken with Cole," I begin, my voice steady. "He's going to spread the news about Layla and Lily, how they had nothing to do with Arthur's actions. He'll make sure the world sees them as victims, especially Lily." I want to reverse my mistake of tarnishing Lily’s reputation, especially after I learned how much she protected my Layla.

He nods approvingly, the lines of tension on his face easing slightly. It's a step toward redemption, a way to cleanse their names from the tarnish that had been unjustly cast upon them. The weight of guilt that had lingered in my chest begins to lift.

Pouring ourselves a drink, we sit across from each other, the clinking of glasses filling the room. The liquid provides a moment of respite, a way to unwind from the intensity of our actions.

"Who's next?" Dante's voice cuts through the quiet, the question hanging in the air.

I lean forward, my thoughts focused on the task at hand. "We need to erase every person who hurt Layla and Lily in the past. Those who took advantage of their vulnerability, who caused them pain. We owe it to them."

We spend the night poring over a list, names and faces from their pasts that had inflicted pain and suffering. Each name carries weight, each act of cruelty etched into our memories. It's a sobering task, the scars that have marred Layla and Lily's lives on display to us.

We discuss, debate, and analyze, crafting a plan that aims to remove every threat and every reminder of their painful pasts. It's a promise to Layla and Lily that we are here to protect them, no matter the cost.

At the heart of the night, we look at the list we have meticulously assembled. With a shared nod, we know it's time to call it a day. We are going to make every person who hurt our women beg for mercy, and we are not going to give it to them.

The night is still and quiet as I stand before Layla's door, It is 3:30 am, an hour when the world is cloaked in darkness and sleep. I knock gently, knowing I am waking her from slumber, but I need to see her or else my chest will explode, the time without her has been torture. I patiently wait for her to answer.

When Layla opens the door, her eyes heavy with sleep, she looks at me with surprise and concern. Her voice is groggy as she asks, "August, what's... what's going on?"

Her gaze travels over my form, and her gasp of shock echoes in the hallway. I am standing before her bloodied from the previous altercation, and immediately her hands roam all over my body, trying to find any wound that could be leaking blood. I smile as I feel her touch, despite her claim of indifference, she can’t stand to see me hurt.

I manage a weak smile, my voice soft. "I'm alright, Layla. The blood isn’t mine."

Her hand reaches out instinctively to raise my fist up to the light, her fingers lightly touching the fresh bruises she finds, her touch gentle and caring. It's a surreal moment, her hands on my body, offering me a comfort I forgot existed since the moment we separated.

She meets my gaze, her eyes searching for answers. "What did you do, August?"

A heavy sigh escapes me as I look into her eyes. "I already told you, no one hurts you and gets away with it. You don't have to worry about anything anymore. I took care of your father."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Took care of him? What does that mean?"

I shake my head, my tone soothing. "I didn't kill him, Layla. I just hurt him, hurt him good. He’s with the police now."

Relief crosses her features, a tension she hadn't even realized she was carrying dissipating. "Oh... I see."

But before I can respond, her tone shifts, her words sharper. “Thank you, but you need to leave."

I look at her, my heart aching at the distance between us. "Please, little dove, I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even breathe. I am merely existing. Please forgive me."

Her expression hardens, a mixture of anger and hurt in her eyes. She stands her ground and orders, "On your knees, August, you lost the privilege of speaking to me standing."

I do as she commands, my pride taking a backseat to the gravity of the moment. I kneel before her, my forehead resting on her feet.

"I am so sorry," I mutter over and over again, begging to be forgiven. I cannot be away from her anymore, I can’t stand another second without her.

As she steps back and closes the door, the sound of her sobbing reaches my ears. It's a sound that cuts through me, a reminder of the pain I have inflicted. I force myself to listen, to feel the weight of her suffering, knowing that I deserve every bit of it.

.

---