Endings: Book One

Chapter Twelve : Duty Calls

Sometimes the storm brews faster and fiercely, even before the winds can carry our sails to safety. There is an importance in anticipating it before it annihilates us all.

-Martin Cadillan, some ways down the road.

The present.

The bar was crowded to the absolute brink of catastrophe and the air was too dense to be accommodated by sober people, even during early hours of the day. The music blared too loud to even be understandable and as the lights flickered about in a weird frenzy, no one noticed the sophisticated man who'd just walked in.

Martin stood at the entrance, a scowl on his face and an immediate dislike of the atmosphere present.

Paradise in hell was among the fine strings of clubs and casinos under the franchise Rivelda De' Lamour that belonged to the richest family in Mexico, the Riveldas. In all its glory and concerning the praise it received, the place did justice to its name.

From drugs of all sorts, sexual pleasures explored in all mannerisms and crafts, drinks, and other sinful pleasures, it was the paradise in New York City's hell. And everyone wanted to take a break from hell's torment now and then, for a substantial price of course.

"Worth every penny" Adrian had said and as Martin looked at the multitudes present and the club's balance sheets and sales report that he'd managed to get a hold of, he had to agree with his cousin.

His men stood closely behind him, silent as always and assessing the madness before them. Martin took his time as well, the scent of drugs and smoke unnerving him enough for him to feel the urge to leave immediately.

Then again, duty calls.

Instead of matching headfast into the abyss, he took a left that led to another entrance where two guards stood their ground. They raised their hands in unison, the indication that he wasn't supposed to move any further was very clear.

Martin's ego wasn't shallow enough for him to heed their warning. He didn't even have to say the words but his men had already overtaken him and ambushed his presumed oppressors. In a flash of fists and kicks that Martin didn't think he had the time nor the patience to witness, he graciously walked past the scene, kicking the door open in the process.

Once he stepped inside he found that he was in an entirely different world. The music had died down and the air was refreshing. He took a deep breath and exhaled, straightening out his collar in the process.

Glad he'd opted to leave his suit jacket in the car he matched on, following a luxurious corridor coated in velvet green and purple wallpaper. There was a single door at the end of it.

And he had come for the person behind it.

***

Evie walked into Thierry's Auto & Tech at precisely 11 am. Considering the time and the occasion, she knew it was well deserved.

She let the door slide back behind her before walking past the machine leftovers that had been torn apart and rebuilt countless times over and over again. She let the mucky smell of grease and air fresheners embrace her in that annoying but comfortable way it normally did as she made her way towards the furthest end of the room where Blaire sat at her desk, hands ferociously attacking her phone and airpods completely blocking out the outside world.

Evie grinned before tapping loudly on the crappy mahogany desk. Blaire's startled expression quickly changed to an unpleasant scowl.

"What the fuck Evie?"