Chapter-68

Without another word, I turned and walked away. Before I made it to the door, Torin grabbed my arm. “Dammit, Marlowe—” he began but I cut him off.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to find some excuse to make what you've done sound better!” I shouted.

“I’m not,” Torin breathed quietly.

We stared at each other, the space between us a battlefield of unspoken words, unspoken feelings. His grip tightened, not painfully, but enough to assert his presence. Without looking at him, I wrenched my arm away and finished making my way to the door.

As I reached for the doorknob, my hand trembled slightly. The smell of his aftershave, faint and intoxicating, circled around me, and for a moment, I was lost in the memory of our past—his touch, his kiss, the way he'd made me feel. But that was before. Before the lies. The betrayal.

I jerked it open and stepped into the night. The door swung shut behind me, a final act of defiance and I strode toward LadyBug, my eyes stinging with unshed tears, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable, but I kept moving as I put one foot in front of the other.

Everything danced from the moisture in my eyes, a ballet of color and movement, and I felt my breath begin coming in ragged gasps. A sob welled up in my throat, causing it to have a thick rawness.

On the verge of a total breakdown, I rounded a corner and was presented with a couple in a passionate embrace. The sight was a knife to my heart, a reminder of what I no longer had. I quickened my pace even further as slight, desperate sobs escaped my lips.

On automatic, I moved past the lovers, and the smell of damp concrete and trash filled my nose. My eyes fell on a dumpster, and its contents spilled out onto the nearby ground. A rat darted out from beneath the pile, its beady eyes meeting mine briefly before disappearing into the shadows.

The sight of the scurrying creature brought a bubble of hysterical laughter to my lips. The sight, a perfect metaphor for the way I felt—used, discarded, and left to fend for myself in the filth of Torin’s betrayal.

When I finally made it to my Volkswagen, I collapsed against her, the metal cold and unforgiving beneath me. The tears that had been threatening to fall, broke their bank and flowed onto my cheeks. My body trembled with the effort of holding in the sobs that threatened to overtake me and I knew I couldn't drive.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled my phone out. There was only one person I would call. One person who might be able to understand the depth of my pain.

My thumb hovered over the number, the screen blurring through the film of my tears, before finally, I touched the button. As I raised the phone to my ear, I waited, listening to it ring.

When Jess picked up, I heard him murmur, “Marlowe?”

I managed to croak out. “Will you come get me, please?”

As he was getting dressed, I gave him my location, afterward the line was silent for a moment, then he murmured, “On my way.”

The world spun around me, a blur of anger, sadness, and confusion, but for now, all I could do was clutch my phone and wait for the one person who had never let me down.

As I waited, minutes stretched into an eternity, each second a slow, painful march, before finally, the headlights of Jess's car pierced the darkness, and as it pulled up alongside the curb, the door swung open.

~~

The car ride was a blur, the gentle hum of the engine lulling me into a state that was almost peaceful.

When we arrived outside the bar, he led me up the stairs and into his apartment, and when another sob fell from my lips, he wrapped his arms around me and didn't let go, as leading me over to his couch, he sat me down and handed me a box of tissues. Then, without any urging, I began to talk: the story of Torin’s betrayal tumbled out in a jumble of anger, pain, and despair.

As the hours passed, Jess helped me through the storm of my emotions. He offered no judgments, no words of wisdom, just a silent, steadfast presence that was more healing than any advice could ever be.

~TORIN~

I watched Marlowe disappear through the door, the slam of it echoing behind her. I'd done what I had to do to keep her safe. But at what cost?

I took a deep breath. She'd never forgive me for using her as I had, but I’d done what I had to. Better my uncle believe she was in possession of something he wanted, than the alternative.

Walking over to the table, I picked up the USB—the small drive contained secrets that could bring down the entire Dinelli empire—secrets that had cost my parents their lives. I clenched my fist around it, feeling the plastic bite into my skin—a reminder of what I'd given up in the name of vengeance—my heart, my soul, maybe even my humanity.

Restless, I paced the floor. Marlowe was hurt and angry, but it was a small price to pay for her life. The USB was my only leverage against my uncle now that he had placed a target on Marlowe's head. For a year, I had hidden, faked my death, and gathered information on my uncle and the Cartel.

Mind racing, I continued pacing, before finally stopping at the window, I peered out into the darkness. I could see the glow of the streetlights in the distance: a reminder that the world went on despite my turmoil.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and pulling it out, I glanced at the message from an unknown number: 'Meet me at the Slaughterhouse tonight. We have unfinished business.' It was signed with a simple 'SCD'.

'SCD' stood for my uncle, and he had finally responded to the message I had sent him a few days earlier. It was time to end this, once and for all.

Seconds ticked away the minutes and my restlessness returned. Time wasn't moving fast enough. I wanted this over, to regain control of my life.

Once again picking up the USB, I studied it, feeling the cold plastic in my palm. Its mere presence was a double-edged sword, it could bring my uncle to his knees, or it could cost me everything.

I didn't like it, but I knew I couldn't go alone; I needed backup. But the thought of putting anyone else in danger made my stomach churn. I'd already lost so much—my family, my home, and now, potentially, the only girl I'd ever truly cared about.

With a small shake of my head, and a steely resolve, I picked back up my phone.

The line rang once, twice, and then Burdock answered. "What do you want, kid?"

"I need your help," I said. "Meet me in the parking lot next to the Slaughterhouse."

The line was silent for a moment, then Burdock stated, "Alright, I'll be there."

I didn't know what was waiting for me at the warehouse, but I knew one way or the other, it would bring an end, either my uncle's or mine.

After safely tucking the USB inside a pocket of my jacket, I slipped out of the building into the shadows of the night. My eyes scanned the dark streets, looking for any sign of movement, any hint of danger, then climbed on my bike.

~~

An hour later, on foot, I approached the old, rusted gates of the long-ago abandoned slaughterhouse. I took a deep breath, knowing I was walking into the lion's den, but I had no other choice. Carlos had started this war, I was going to finish it.

Stepping forward, the sound of my boots crunching in the loose gravel, I gave a practically imperceptible nod to Burdock, and walked through the gates, ready to face whatever fate had in store.

The warehouse was a maze of corrugated steel and darkness, but I knew I was being watched as I moved deeper into the bowels of the building. 

My hand rested on the butt of my gun, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Out of the shadows, my uncle called, "I knew you'd come."

I didn't say a word. I didn't need to.

As Carlos stepped out of the shadows, we stared at each other like two chess players, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Let's get this over with," I said, my voice low and dangerous.

"You've caused quite a stir, nephew," Carlos said, his smile never reaching his cold eyes. "It's a shame it had to come to this."

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes any more than had my uncles, as I stated, “Before this night is over, Dear Uncle, Hell will open its doors for one or both of us.”