Four days ago
Cold sweat runs down my back as I wake up from my brutal nightmare.
Slowly, I realize that I am in a dark room with many beeping machines. The faint noise of yelling opens my eyes. Panting, I try to figure out what's real and what's not.
Brynne is in the hospital, Real.
Her blood is on my hands, Not real.
She has leukemia, Real.
My soul crushes as I notice her staring into my eyes. The tube coming from her neck shifts as she takes a breath.
She survived her surgery, Real.
Her frail body leaning against the bed sends anger running through my veins.
I run my fingers through my hair and push back the severe guilt rising in my throat.
Without even looking into her eyes, I leave the hospital room and storm down the hallway. Ignoring her favorite nurse's questions, I continue walking.
The terror of the men I killed that night follows me.
Their screams and pleads trail behind my footsteps. With every lunge that I take, they get louder and more urgent.
I reach the elevator and press the button until my finger aches.
The doors open, and I rush inside, clawing at whatever has gotten into my head.
My father's voice enters my mind and begins to taunt me.
"You've ruined everything, son."
"I knew I couldn't trust you."
"You're a complete disappointment."
I yell in frustration and cup my ears to stop the voices.
To my surprise, the elevator doors open to an empty hospital lobby. The parking lot is bare, and I drag my legs to my black BMW. The sun has gone down, leaving only a reminiscence of light. The stars become evident as I drive to my base.
Stepping on the gas; my car zooms past the endless green lights.
I should be taking care of Brynne.
I should be holding her hand and helping her prepare for chemotherapy. But, for some reason; I can't stand to see her in pain. It physically hurts me to witness her struggling.
I remember how athletic and active she used to be because I never missed one of her track meets. She can't even walk a couple of steps without asking for help.
My foot harshly presses against the gas. She doesn't deserve this.
I wish it was me. I wish that I was the one who got cancer, not her.
I tightly grip the steering wheel and swerve into the parking lot of the tall glass building. Dante greets me with a serious glare and does the job of parking my car in its usual spot.
As I barge into the back door of the lobby, a smell of smoke meets my breath. Its fragrance and strong aroma travel up my nose, tickling it on the way up.
What the hell?
Walking over to Antonio, I make sure not to waste any time with small steps or greeting the other employees. His black hair is cut short and neatly arranged to pair with his navy blue suit.
"Good evening, sir," He boasts while straightening his tie.
I grunt in acceptance and answer the ringing telephone.
"Hello?" I complain.
"Uh, sir? This is Christian with the cadets," His voice shakes, and muffled screams coming from the other end of the line.
"What's wrong?" I question.
"We are in the basement, and someone dropped a match during training. Half of the place is on fire, and the elevators don't work."
That's what the smoke was.
"Have you tried the stairs?" I suggest while motioning Antonio to tap into the cameras.
"They're blocked, sir," He pleads.
"Okay," I whisper, "How many cadets are down there?"
Antonio counts the cadets on the camera and answers my question, "Twenty-four."
Shit, I murmur underneath my sharp breaths.
"Christian, I need you to listen to me," I begin, "Take the kids into the supply room and cover the bottom of the door with any type of cloth."
He complies and begins to shout orders at the frightened students.
I can see the fire from Antonio's computer. It's quickly spreading throughout the entire basement of the building.
Fuck, all of our drugs are down there.
"Boss, we are all in the supply room," Christian's voice booms in my ear.
"Okay, good. Let me know if the temperature begins to increase. I am going to get help."
I contemplate calling the firefighters, but if they find out what kind of business we are running here, we would go to jail.
I groan in frustration and smash my fist against the marble countertop.
God, there has to be something I can do.
"How's the fire?" I ask Antonio while shouting orders at the men in the lobby.
"Grab all the fire extinguishers!"
"Someone find the fucking hose!!"
"It's not good, sir," He sweats, "It's almost to the supply closet."
"Oh god."
Dante rushes into the room carrying three fire extinguishers against his chest. Luigi quickly follows with another set, and someone runs into the lobby with the hose.
I grab an extinguisher and race towards the staircase.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, SIR?" Antonio yells through the whispers of my men.
"To save them."
I place my sweaty hand on the palm reader to open the door.
Palm not read.
Fuck, I whisper as I wipe my hand against my black pants. Slamming my hand into the reader again, only this time the light turns green, and I pull back the heavy door.
With every step I take, the smoke becomes thicker, and it grows harder to breathe. I brush my sweaty hair from my face and lift my shirt to create a mask. The heated wind rushes against my stomach as I pick up my speed.
I pass the first door and continue to the lowest level of the basement. A wave of heat burns through my eyes and causes me to close them. Not caring, I run even faster down the smoky stairs.
Finally, I make it to the last door and reach for the handle. My feet stumble backward as I wince in pain from the heat on the metal. My fingers throb with blisters. I use my shirt to create a barrier between the iron and my hand, quickly turning the handle.
Flames rush from the entrance and blow into my face. I rush backward and allow the fire to go past me.
Without thinking, I run into the basement. I blow the foam of the fire extinguisher to make a pathway to the supply room. Swiftly opening the door, using my same shirt technique, I find Christian and the twenty-four children in the cramped room.
"Come on!" I yell above the flames, "EVERYONE GET OUT!"
Christian and I stand by the door as the cadets begin to rush out. These are only kids, I think to myself. These are kids who have already been through so much, physically and mentally.
Usually, the children who join the mafia are pretty desperate.
A few years ago, I was training a sixteen-year-old girl who dropped out of high school to take care of her paralyzed older brother. She claimed that it was her only choice since her parents had abandoned them. I've helped her keep up with multiple household bills and offered to let them stay with me a couple of times.
Another student that I have; is an eighteen-year-old boy of four. His three siblings depend on him for everything after their parents died in a car crash. I try my best to make sure that they all have food and a safe place to sleep, but it's hard to help when he is absent for most of the training.
I see myself in the eyes of these frightened children. Once, I used to be exactly like them, scared of my future and trying to carry my family on the bones of my brittle back.
Only, I had to run a business while I was struggling. I had to worry about schoolwork, my mother, and running a multimillion-dollar Mafia.
My chest rises as the last cadets fly past Christian and me, leaving the supply room empty.
After Christian follows the crowd, I begin to pull back the door and prepare my fire extinguisher for the path to the stairs. But out of the loud flames and children screaming, I hear faint cries. It seems to be coming from the supply room, so I re-enter and look around. My eyes meet a small boy curled up in the corner of the room, hidden behind a couple of giant boxes. He looks to be around eight and scared shitless.
"Hey, bud. We have to get out of here. Do you want to come with me?" I reach my hand for him. He shakes his head no and points to his leg. It has a deep cut, most likely from the shrapnel flying around.
"Alright," I sigh, "Don't worry, I'll be right back."
I run out of the room to meet the group. They are huddled against each other, protecting themselves from the orange and white flames.
"Christian!" I yell through smoked lungs, "TAKE THIS."
I throw him the red canister of foam and point towards the staircase. His eyes move back and forth while his eyebrows scrunch.
"What about you?"
I can barely hear him through the teenagers' crying.
"I'll be right behind you," I yell and rush them towards him.
Without looking back to check that they are complying, I rush into the smoky supply room. The boy seems to be sobbing uncontrollably now because his cheeks are wet and his shirt is soaked.
"Hey," I breathe as I crouch down next to him, "What's your name?"
"Luca," He whimpers in pain.
"Alright, Luca, my name is Blake. Do you think you can walk for me?"
He grabs ahold of the box next to him and hoists himself up. An immediate yelp is his reaction as he falls into my arms. I lift him onto my shoulders and groan.
The smoke is blocking my vision, making it hard to see where I'm going. The pathway to the staircase is faint, but it's still there. I run as fast as my legs will take me and tightly grip Luca's limbs as he bounces up and down.
The group is nowhere to be seen, meaning they made it to safety.
It's our turn, Luca. I whisper while avoiding falling boxes. He holds onto the collar of my shirt, and I leap up the stairs. The fire seems to be constantly following us, barely touching my back and teasing my side.
I pick up my speed and almost trip from the steep step. We've made it.
My hand searches for the palm reader on the wall, and a dinging noise sends a feeling of excitement through my chest. The door flies open, and I barely make it through before collapsing with Luca on my back.
A couple of my men immediately rush towards the now fire-ridden staircase and blast water down it. They are using the rest of the fire extinguishers, careful not to destroy the rest of the building.
Noticing Luca beside me, I take a deep breath and throw my head back, allowing my sweat to rush along my neck and down my shirt.
"Luca?!" I hear Dante's deep voice turn soft as he notices the small child on the marble floor.
"Dad!" Luca reaches up for his father to pick him up.
I didn't know Dante had a son.
"I was so worried about you, kid," He smells the top of his head. "Ti amo tanto - I love you so much."
"Are you okay?" He lifts his head from Luca's small heated shoulder.
He nods his head, "Blake saved me," His weak finger points toward my body sprawled across the floor. My breathing has shown down, and I send Dante an encouraging look.
Dante places Luca in Luigi's arms and promptly helps me stand up. His large arms around my shoulders leave me shocked. I don't think I have ever seen Dante smile, much less show anyone physical affection.
"Grazie, grazie, grazie capo - thank you, thank you, thank you, boss."
"No problem Dante," I pat him on the shoulder and stand upright as he pulls away. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. He is just a worried father; who is forever grateful that his son is alive.
I look around and notice my entire staff standing around, shocked and worried about the fate of our group. The cadets look traumatized, and the guards look helpless. I walk to the counter and notice Antonio treating an older boy's burn wounds.
My assistant flinches as I move to step up on the counter.
"Everyone! Gather around." I project, and my voice echoes throughout the large warehouse. My people reluctantly shuffle towards my way until a crowd forms in front of the desk. I make sure my stance is tall and strong; these people need a true leader for the next few days.
The group fighting the fire returns, carrying empty extinguishers and the hose behind them.
"The fire destroyed most of the basement, sir," Marco, my drug distributor, informs me; and the entire group. Whispers begin to rise, and half of my staff starts to panic.
"Quiet!" I break the conversations and stand tall.
"I know we've all had some sort of loss this year. Whether it was losing a job or a family member, these past few months have been difficult for everyone," Even Antonio stops from his first aid to listen to my words.
"I regret not being here as much as I should be. Knowing how hard it is to run these things, I shouldn't have left everything for you all to handle. For that, I am deeply regretful."
I can tell that everyone is surprised that I have been speaking for so long without yelling. They are used to seeing the angry side of me. Brynne has shown me that to get your point across, you have to be collected. Looking around, people seem to be calming down from their heightened emotions.
"So today, I am going to give you all a choice. You can either stay and help salvage the salvageable, or you can go home and take a much-needed rest day off tomorrow. Either way, you will still have a job here."
"We will build from the ashes and start over again. We don't need to worry about the Spanish; they are no longer a threat." My chest tightens as I think about the slaughter that I committed.
"Tomorrow is a new day, and we will triumph as we always have, drugs or not."
I feel a hand on my shoulder and notice my student by my side. Josh leans towards the crowd and sends them a look of fierceness. Despite his three siblings at home, he has still decided to stay.
Everyone begins to scatter around and help in any way that they can. Most of the group heads towards the staircase to assist with the charred basement. I stay and help the wounded; putting my extensive medical skills to use.
After everyone is bandaged up, and everything that survived the fire has been brought, I allow myself to relax.
I head to my office, using the elevator this time. The dark insides of the room remind me of Brynne's words;
"Decoration adds personality to a room, makes it your own."
I grab a bottle of whiskey and take a large swig of it. Looking out of my window onto the street, I remember where Brynne scared the living hell out of me. I thought that Mathias kidnapped her after our meeting together.
She worries me like no other. I don't think I've ever cared about a person as much as I care about her.
Imagining her in that hospital bed causes me to take another large drink of the whiskey. I shouldn't have left her, especially after serious surgery. I just couldn't stand to see her sick anymore. I know it's selfish, but I crave her deeply.
I crave her more than this cheap bottle of alcohol. I crave her more than any drug or any amount of money. And I don't care how complicated her cancer gets; I will always crave Brynne.
I will always love her.
———————————————————————
Four days later
After beginning the reconstruction of the basement, I find myself in Brynne's hospital room;
"Did you actually sleep with all of those girls from school?"
Her broken voice sends a shooting pain into my heart. I don't know why I've had sex with so many girls; I think it just distracts me from my responsibilities.
"I told Elise that she was crazy and that you would never do something like that," Her voice cracks, "You're not the person I thought you were."
Her words begin to slip as she struggles to confront me. Does she not know how much I love her?
"Brynne, those girls meant nothing to me," I plead, "If I had known that you were sick, I would have never done it."
It's the truth.
"So if I wasn't sick, you would have slept with them?"
No, never.
"No, I didn't mean it like that," My voice rises, "You know that I would never cheat on you, Brynne."
I try to remember to stay calm, but it's getting hard when she's only pushing me away because she's scared that we are falling in love.
"I barely know you anymore," She forces her voice, "You leave for days on end and expect me to be the same when you come back. How am I supposed to know that you are safe? That you're not in a damn shootout or fighting people in the street?"
She's right. I'm stretching myself too thin.
She uses the last of her voice to whisper, "Leave."
"Please, Brynne. Don't do this," I beg her, trying to reach for her hand.
She doesn't mean it; she's hurting.
I decide to leave and respect her wishes. Although it hurts, I know that it's what she wants.
It doesn't make it hurt any less.