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We get into the car and take a silent drive to a warehouse by the docks on the outskirts of the City. I would normally be nervous in an area like this, but between Landon's presence, and the poisonous hate inside of me, I can't muster up the fear.
We walk into the warehouse where two men are tied up in wooden chairs, covered in an array of bruises and cuts that have obviously been strategically made. I'm so focused on the prisoners in front of me that I hardly register the stacks of guns laying on the shelves on one of the far walls, or the suited men standing by them. I march towards the captives, Landon my silent tail behind me.
I walk right up to the man closest to me and slap him with all my might. His head jerks back.
"Bitch," he snaps, spitting blood out of his mouth.
I can feel Landon move beside me, and I hold out my hand to stop him.
"Did you break into a deli a few nights ago?" I ask in a voice that sounds eerily calm considering the rage I'm feeling in the moment.
I can see the man's face pale under his bruises and his blood stains. He swallows, and then yanks his chin up cockily.
"You mean that Jewish whore's place?" he asks, spitting out a racist epitaph that has me momentarily blacking out in my rage.
When I come out of it, I'm holding Landon's gun, and the man is slumped in his chair, blood pouring out of three bullet holes in his chest. I drop the gun and take a few steps back, covering my mouth with my hands, and starting to shake.
Landon is standing in the same place, looking somehow shocked and concerned at the same time. He takes a step towards me before shaking his head and stalking towards the remaining man.
"Do you know who I am?" he asks, pulling out a long knife from his belt.
The prisoner turns horrified eyes to Landon. "Noooo," he gasps, his voice shaking with fear.
"Who sent you to that deli?" Landon continues calmly, before plunging his knife into the leg of the prisoner, eliciting a shrill scream.
Landon asks the question again.
"No one," the prisoner cries out. "We saw her coming out of the synagogue on 33rd and followed her home. It just got out of hand."
Landon yanks the knife out of the man's leg and stabs him in the other one.
"Did this have anything to do with Landon Torrio," he says, pushing the knife in until the prisoner is howling in agony.
Looking at the man's pain glazed eyes, I can tell he literally has no idea who Landon Torrio is. Despite the fact that I just killed a man, a small part of me lightens at the thought that this didn't happen because of my association with Landon. The idea that this wasn't my fault allows me to have a moment of peace before the anger and hatred comes rushing back as I absorb the fact that these evil men followed Clara home because she was Jewish.
Landon straightens up and pulls the knife out of the man's leg. By the way that the man is bleeding, I wonder if he hit his artery. Landon takes a cloth out of his pocket and wipes the knife clean before sticking it back under his belt.
"Juliet, what would you like to do with this piece of filth?" he asks in a tone that's so casual he could have been asking me about the weather.
I take a slight pause before answering. After all, maybe I could potentially be absolved of any guilt for the first man's death thanks to the convenient blacking out. The murder of this man on the other hand…there's no coming back from this once I step past this line.
The image of Clara lying in the hallway in a pool of blood, followed by my memory of the horror in Clara's eyes after she first woke up, is enough to send me hurtling past the line.
I walk and pick up the gun that I had dropped. I stare at it for a second, take a deep breath, and then raise my hand and shoot the quivering piece of crap sitting in front of me right between his eyes. Specks of blood and other bodily fluid splash all over me. I stare at the man's corpse for so long that Landon has to grab me and pull me in a different direction to get me to stop. I hear him barking orders as we walk, but my mind can't comprehend what he says.
He guides me into the car, pulling me close to him as he orders the driver to take us somewhere that I don't catch once again. I realize that I'm shivering only when he puts an arm around me, and I'm pulled into the warmth of his body. I rub the fabric of his shirt absentmindedly and freeze when I see the blood staining my fingertips. Looking at his shirt, I see that the blood splattered him as well, staining the usually perfectly white, expensive fabric with matching crimson flecks as the ones that cover me. Strangely the poison that's been taking over my heart recedes. I feel a closeness to Landon that I hadn't felt before. It's as if my heart couldn't give into him all the way because it sensed that we were different, that I was unstained in a way that he was not.
We're the same now I think. He's never admitted it in the few times we've talked obviously, but my gut has always known that Landon Torrio is a bad man. And now I'm a bad girl too.
The car stops, and he pulls me out. I'm content for him to lead me now. I feel so drained of energy that it's all I can do to stumble after him. He obviously sees this, because he sweeps me up in his arms and walks through the front door of some building before I can see what the outside looks like.
A pretty maid hurries over to us eagerly as we walk through an enormous marble entryway with a large, majestic staircase rising in front of us. Landon ignores her and proceeds to carry me up the stairs. He walks down a long hallway until we get to a bathroom that's also decorated with white marble. Everything is so white that I'm afraid to move for fear some of the blood that's covering both of us will fall and ruin the effect.
"Can you stand?" Landon asks quietly, and it takes me a minute to process the answer.
"I think so?" I say.
This must not elicit very much confidence, because Landon grunts and shifts my weight to more of one arm as he leans down and starts the nozzle of the largest bathtub that I've ever seen. He sits me down on the side of the tub and starts to carefully peel off my clothes. I'm disgusting. Not just from the blood, but also because I've been living in a hospital for who knows how long, rarely taking a sponge bath, much less bathing. I can't find it in me to feel self-conscious, however. This man just watched me murder two people. There aren't many things that can bring two people closer together than a couple that kills together…not that I had ever had that thought before now.
