The first execution of a traitor
904 Words
The sky had just darkened, but the ship's lights blazed to life, turning the deck into a stage. Bao shoved me forward, his grip on my arm like iron. My back was drenched in sweat, the wind chilling it instantly.
"Second Brother, don't be scared. Just do what the Old Man says," Bao whispered, his voice and hands trembling, yet his hold unyielding.
I'm not scared of the Old Man, I thought bitterly. I'm scared of the gunshot that's coming.
The crew formed a semicircle. At its center, a man knelt—tall and gaunt, his hair plastered to his scalp with seawater, face swollen beyond recognition.
I stepped closer.
Lin Sheng.
Or rather, *M-27.*
Blood trickled from his lips, but his eyes burned like twin blades.
Du Ming stood at the front, his trench coat flapping in the wind. He turned, jerking his chin at me. "Second Son. Your turn."
My legs were lead. Each step matched the pounding of my heart.
The crowd parted, creating a path. Dozens of eyes pinned me down—spotlights with nowhere to hide.
"Godfather..." My throat was sandpaper.
Du Ming pressed the gun into my hand. The metal was cold, serpentine.
"You know the rules."
I did.
Black Whale's law: When a cop is caught, the second-in-command pulls the trigger.
A blood oath. A test of loyalty.
I looked down. The barrel hovered inches from Lin Sheng's forehead.
He lifted his face and grinned, blood seeping between his teeth.
His lips moved. No sound, but I understood:
"Shoot."
My finger curled around the trigger, frozen.
Memories flashed—police academy, the shooting range, the instructor barking: "Fast! Precise! Ruthless!"
I'd always hit bullseyes. Never imagined my target would be a fellow officer.
"Second Brother, hurry!" Bao's voice came from far away.
I glanced up. Du Ming's narrowed eyes. Du An’an's bloodless face. The crew's frenzied grins.
I inhaled deeply, lowering the muzzle slightly.
"Wait." My voice was a rasp.
Du Ming raised a brow. "What?"
I licked my lips. "I want to ask him something."
A nod.
I crouched, leaning close to Lin Sheng's ear, whispering so only he could hear: "Where's the chip?"
His eyelid twitched. Two words, barely audible:
"The child."
Child?
My chest tightened.
What child? Du An’an's unborn baby? Or—something else?
No time to think. Du Ming was losing patience. "Second Son. Enough."
I raised the gun again. This time, my hand didn't shake.
BANG!
The recoil rattled my bones.
Lin Sheng's head snapped back. Blood sprayed my face—warm, metallic.
The crowd erupted. Whistles. Claps. Like a damn show.
I stood frozen, arm still extended, fingers locked around the pistol.
Lin Sheng crumpled slowly, his eyes open, staring straight through me.
Du Ming approached, clapping my shoulder. "Well done."
I tried to smile. Couldn't.
Bao shoved a liquor bottle into my hands—smudged with fingerprints and blood. I took a swig. The burn couldn't mask the iron on my tongue.
"Second Brother, your hands are shaking," Bao muttered, glancing at Du Ming's retreating back. "The Old Man's watching."
I tightened my grip on the bottle. Lin Sheng's body lay in a spreading pool, crimson tendrils snaking across the deck.
Where’s the chip? The child—does he mean Du An’an’s fetus? It’s only three months. Impossible to hide anything. Unless...
Du Ming's polished shoes clicked against the deck. "Second Son, dispose of the body. Feed it to the sharks."
The crowd parted. Crewmen approached with steel hooks.
As I knelt, my fingers brushed something hard in Lin Sheng's pocket. My pulse skyrocketed. Pretending to adjust the corpse, I palmed it—a crumpled note, smeared in blood:
"Find Old Ghost. Cargo hold B3."
Cold sweat soaked my shirt. Who the hell is Old Ghost? And what’s in B3? Lin Sheng’s dying clue was bigger than the chip.
"Hurry up!" Du Ming barked.
I tucked the note into my waistband and signaled the crew. The hooks bit into flesh with wet crunches. When Lin Sheng's body hit the water, his fingers twitched—one final, grotesque protest.
The sharks went wild.
I stared at the churning waves, bile rising in my throat.
Du Ming materialized behind me, the brass buttons on his coat glinting. "First kill. How does it feel?"
I swallowed the bitterness. "Cleaning house for the gang. Your orders. I don’t question."
He chuckled, thumbing the blood spatter on my shoulder. "Smart men live longer. But..." He leaned in, nose almost touching mine. "When you searched his pockets, your eyes lied."
Every hair on my neck stood up. I forced steadiness. "Checking for police contacts. Standard procedure."
Du Ming studied me, then stepped back. "Tonight, you patrol the cargo hold. New assignment. Remember—not a grain of sand goes missing from Black Whale’s shipments."
The ship's engines groaned as night deepened. Bao sidled up, whispering, "Second Brother, the Old Man sending you alone... is this a test?"
The note burned against my skin. Cargo hold B3. Old Ghost. Lin Sheng’s trail led there. But Du Ming’s timing—coincidence, or trap?
The corridor to the cargo holds was dim, oil stains on the walls twisting like specters under flickering lights.
B1... B2...
Then—B3.
The door loomed, a sliver of eerie blue-purple light leaking from beneath.
Three breaths. I turned the handle.
Rusted hinges screamed.
The door opened—
And alarms shattered the silence.
- Writer
