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He looked toward Giana’s crumbling body, and I made my escape out the tunnel system in the bookcase. I ran as fast as I could with a bullet wound, my heart heavy for the loss of innocent life.
When I reached the exit, a powerful arm wrapped around me. Roger looked concerned as he dragged me to the waiting car. “Let’s get you out of here, sir.”
That was the last thing I remembered as darkness took over.
BANISHED.
After Roger, my father’s closest confidant and my godfather, had rescued me from what I was certain was my execution, he’d taken me to the nearest doctor. It wasn’t one that we had on our payroll, but someone that owed my godfather a favor. The price of silence was steep, I would come to find out.
The bullet wasn’t deep. It was a graze, really. The doctor put in a few stitches and glue. There wasn’t much else to the visit except a bandage and a change of clothes.
Roger had a small plane ready and helped me board. He even gave me a few bank accounts filled with more money than I thought I’d be able to get my hands on. Then he handed me a burner phone and wished me well. There was no judgement in his eyes.
When I asked him where I was heading, he told me that he didn’t know, and that the fewer people who held that information, the safer I would be. He promised to contact me at some point in the future. I had to take his word. It wasn’t like I had any possessions on me, or an escape plan from the Bratva in my back pocket.
The private jet took off, destination unknown. Other than the sequestered pilot in the cockpit, I was alone. There wasn’t even a flight attendant. Not that I was planning on sticking my dick in anything for a long time. After what I’d just been through, maybe it was time for me to turn into a monk or something.
Poor Giana. Her baby. Our baby. Gone.
It wasn’t love, but I felt the loss all the same.
I grabbed a bottle of vodka and drank until we landed. I
hadn’t passed out from alcohol in a long ass time.
???
IT TOOK a couple weeks for me to arrive at my final-final destination. I had seemingly switched planes in various cities more times than I could count as I hopped my ass across the globe, one region at a time. Probably for the best. Both the Mafia and the Bratva would be looking for me, and this was quite the trail to follow.
Russia. Poland. Romania. Turkey. Saudi Arabia. And finally, a first-class international flight to America. I must hand it to my godfather. I couldn’t have made it without him. I could only imagine how much money he’d spent on this escape, how many palms he greased, how many officials he had to bribe to get my papers in order.
Roger had gotten me a passport, identification, and bank cards to use. Other than that, I was apparently on my own.
My last connection deposited me in this crap city in the lower mid-Atlantic. I guess I could have missed the last leg of my journey at the port-of-entry, but I didn’t know if staying in New York City was wise, considering the Mafia’s reach.
So, I decided to hole up here in this nondescript rundown coastal town until I found a more permanent place I wanted to be. All my favorite cities were too dangerous, but I wasn’t much of a suburb man either. But with no more responsibilities or a place to be, I had time to figure it out.
I found a pleasant hotel to stay in and booked my room for a week—well, pleasant for this area. I knew nothing about this particular city. All I knew was that I needed rest.
After I got out of the shower, I ordered room service right after. Then I called a local temp agency and hired a personal assistant for a couple days. He was instructed to get clothes for me while I slept and I left a note at the desk to give the assistant a key.
When I next awoke, there were a few bags of designer clothes in the next room. That errand boy had paid off. I was going to tip him an immense sum when I saw him next.
I wanted to get out of my room, maybe find some hole in the wall where I could drink these awful memories out of my system. Then, I could prepare to take back my throne.
I threw on a casual button-up, slacks, and slipped on my shoes. I wriggled a smart watch on to match the new phone I had the assistant buy me. I left my room and went outside to explore the town.
For the first time in my thirty-five years, I felt uncomfortable in my skin. I never dressed down. This wasn’t me. I was almost a Pahkan. So close, I could taste it. One wrong decision ruined it all for me. That, and a rat.
My filthy baby brother had something to do with the way things went down. I could feel it in my bones.
My dedushka used to tell us bedtime stories before he passed. My father was already running the day-to-day operations. He had been so busy that he had no time for raising children.
By the time I was twelve, I’d already made my name known within our organization. I did everything I was supposed to but could, at times, be volatile. Viktor, the so-called better-behaved brother, had his chance of surpassing me, but he couldn’t. When the time came, he couldn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he pissed his pants and wept in front of all of our soldiers. He cried and pleaded with our father not to make him do it.
That wasn’t how my initiation went. I stood tall and did what I had to do. When the fatal shot rang out, the room let out a loud roar as they cheered for their next Pahkan.
Now, all my hard work, gone in an instant. All because my ego was too large. I thought I could one-up the don, but he had the last laugh. He’d killed Giana. He hadn’t been able to kill me. But I’d been sent to purgatory to wait out my sins.
