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My heart beat fast and I was itching for violence. The entry hall had a single door on the right that led into an empty galley kitchen. I moved past it and into a relatively large and open living room. There was a single futon with empty pizza boxes on the floor next to it and a coffee table with four empty bottles of vodka. The TV was an old flat-screen with enormous side bezels and it was tuned into a sitcom on mute.
Steven came in behind me and nodded as he turned down another hall. Aida was following at a distance, her eyes wide, her breath coming fast. I could tell she was nervous, but she wasn’t backing away, and I liked that. I followed and he pushed his way into the first room. He flipped on the light and I peered in over his shoulder, gun out and ready. It was empty, nothing on the walls, nothing on the floor. The floors were wood and they creaked under my feet as I moved forward. There were two more doors, one at the very end, and one on the left. Nothing hung on the walls and the paint was stained almost a brownish yellow, like someone had smoked for years while living there.
I took the door on the left. It was locked, and that time kicking it was easier, since I wasn’t on the stairs. I smashed my boot into it and the door ripped open as I slammed into the room with my gun raised.
Lying in a bed with no sheets, a box of half-eaten Chinese food on the mattress beside him, was Vlas. He smiled at me and didn’t move. He wore a pair of navy-blue boxers, a white tank top that was a size too small for him, and there was a bloodstained bandage on his right leg. His eyes were sunken and he was completely unarmed, his hands held up above his head. He looked bloated and exhausted, like he hadn’t left that bed in days, and based on the trash I saw on the floor and the amount of vodka bottles, I thought that might be the case.
“You got me,” Vlas said, grinning. His eyes shone with what I thought might be a fever. He looked sallow and yellow like the walls outside the room.
I slowly lowered my gun as Steven came in behind me, followed by Biagio. Aida came in last, and I looked over at her as she stared down at the man that had made her life a living hell these past few weeks. Disgust flickered over her expression, and I knew what she was thinking.
We all looked down on the pathetic man lying on the bed before us, and I felt absolute revulsion and pity rush through me at his pitiful form.
At one point, that was my biggest rival, my greatest enemy. It was almost sad to see him reduced to such a pathetic state, simultaneously thin and bloated, rotting away on a dirty mattress in a trash-strewn room.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked.
He laughed and there was a hard, manic edge to his voice. “We don’t have to talk. Just kill me and finish this. Don’t make me suffer, Dante. I know that’s not your style.”
I shook my head and walked toward him. I kept my gun lowered, though Steven and Biagio didn’t relax. I leaned down over Vlas and stared into his eyes.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I said.
There was a moment of panic on his face. He couldn’t hide it, and I wondered if he would have been able to in better times.
“What… what are you going to do with me?” he asked, stuttering the words out.
“I’m going to take you to my boss and let him decide,” I said. “Which is lucky for you.” I leaned even closer and could smell his stink, a foul stench rising from his rotting, weakened body. “If it were up to me, I’d cut off your balls and make you choke on them.”
His eyes went wide for a moment then he leaned back and laughed. He threw his head back and cackled like an animal. I let him laugh for a moment before bringing the butt of my gun down as hard as I could on his knee. He screamed in pain and doubled over, which made him groan and roll onto his side.
“Take him,” I said to Steven.
“Wait,” Vlas said. “Wait, wait, wait. Be careful, please, be careful. I can’t… I can’t walk.” He looked up at me, sweat pouring down his face, and he began to tremble.
“That wound?” I asked.
He nodded. “Shot. Your fucking… your fucking guy shot me. He killed me, Dante.”
“You deserved worse,” Aida snapped.
I laughed and shook my head at the irony of it. “Gino shot you in the leg and you didn’t go see a doctor,” I said. “I don’t think anyone deserves a slow death from a rotten wound any more than you do.”
