AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I wasn’t going to hide out in the slums forever, and now is as good a time as any to get moving. If I want to have my revenge, I’m going to have to go to where the most powerful of my traitors roost. Downtown Cali, my old playpen.
I’ll burn it to the ground if I have to.
The restaurant where I took Catalina out for our first public ‘date’ hits my line of sight like a flash of lightning.
It still stands there, unchanged, like nothing is different, but everything is different. I turn away from the haunting memory of what I’ve lost and keep my head down. I lower the brim on my baseball cap and watch the sidewalk through my dark sunglasses as I turn the nearest corner. Stefan Mendoza’s place should be just up the block.
I haven’t dared pass by any of my old buildings yet. The last I heard, they were on fire. Sure, maybe I could have gotten to my destination quicker if I’d paid them a visit, but I know how mid-level bosses like Mendoza work. I’m in no hurry. They play all night long and then get home in the pre-morning dawn, sleeping all day before finally getting back onto the streets around sundown. That’s about what time it is right now; with any luck, I’ll catch this bastard just before he heads out for the night.
My old buildings can wait.
By the time I’m out front of Mendoza’s place, a strong wind has tunneled down the semi-crowded street. Busy strangers rush by with their heads tucked in
to their chests, just trying to brave the breeze for long enough to come out the other side. It works well in my favor. No one’s looking at me, and I easily slip into a side alleyway without facing a single suspicious stare.
The quickening wind dies down a little in this quiet side street, and I take the opportunity to take off my hat and sunglasses. Sweat drips down my forehead and I can feel the mark left on my face by the sunglasses. I hate having to hide like this, but I know it’s the only way. People would recognize me without this half-assed disguise, and the second news gets out that I’m back, Dante will go into lock-down mode and any chance I have at grabbing Catalina will go up in flames.
I try not to think about my captive bride as I search for a way into the building. Up ahead, I spot a closed door; just behind that there’s a half-drawn fire escape ladder. The closed door would be easiest, but it’s also more likely to have security cameras trained on it. The fire escape, meanwhile, shakes against the growing wind like an unstable branch.
I don’t like either of my options.
I’m seriously considering just going in the front door with my disguise on, when a sudden gust sends me sliding backwards. My arms instinctively cross over my face in a shield to protect against the flying debris. The air smells violent and hot. It’s a recognizable scent. There’s no doubt that a huge storm is coming, but for now, all I can do is brace myself against the pre-gale tremors.
When the rogue gust has calmed, I shake myself free of the litter it threw against me and decide that enough is enough. I’m getting inside of this building, now...
I don’t make it far before something heart-stopping catches my eye. The dying wind flips through the pages of a nearby newspaper, which lays on the ground just a few yards from my feet. A familiar picture is quickly shrouded by ink-filled sheets, but I know what I saw.
I rush forward and grab the windswept rag, violently flipping through the dirty pages until I reach the offending photo.
Fuck.
There, filling up half the page, is a full color picture of me and Catalina, hand in hand, on our first date, two years ago.
My heart constricts as I remember the warmth of her little palm against mine. She looks so meek as she stares down at her feet to avoid the flashing lights of the paparazzi that surround the restaurant.
A new hurricane-forced gust starts blowing down the alley again, ripping back the pages and obscuring my view of my lovely little dove. It’s enough to snap me out of my reverie, and I quickly move to the closed door ahead.
It only takes a few well-placed kicks to bust it open, and when I shut it closed behind me, I’m met with a still silence.
After a quick glance around, no security cameras catch my eye, and my attention is immediately pulled back to the paper in my hands. Before I open it back up to the photo, I check the date on the front page—it came out yesterday. Why the hell is a photo of me and Catalina from two years ago doing in a newspaper that came out yesterday?
I quickly race back to the offending page. There she is. For an eternal moment, I can’t rip my eyes off of Catalina. She’s so beautiful... I wonder if she’s changed?
Slowly, my heart let’s my brain regain control and my eyes wander up to the headline above the photo.
WHERE HAS THE MYSTERIOUS BILLIONAIRE GONE? COULD HE SAVE THIS CITY’S SOUL?
A sharp pain of confusion shoots through my skull as I try to process just what I’m seeing. An uncomfortable silence hugs me as I lean back against the hallway wall and skim through the article.
This journalist has been receiving constant updates on the philanthropic endeavors of one Angel Montoya...
Ever since he flashed into the public eye, and then promptly disappeared, some odd two years ago, this city has experienced an historic descent...
What’s become of him and his fiancée? Did they fall to the same evil that has gripped this city? Did they leave us? Or have they gone underground and started a resistance that could save this city’s soul? This journalist can only speculate...
My head starts to pound almost as hard as my heart as I rip the page out and stuff it into my pocket. It looks like my effort to win over public opinion all that time ago ended up succeeding after all, and my absence has only added to my legend. But why am I still being written about? It’s been two years, has everything really gotten so bad that the only hero some journalist can conjure up is a mysterious rich dude who hasn’t been seen in 24 months? How is Dante allowing this? And if I’m so famous, why don’t any of his new recruits know about me or what I look like?
A thousand different questions whirl around in my head at light speed; the approaching storm outside hardly compares to the storm already raging inside of me. I struggle to grab hold of a single question that could settle me down...
