LOVE THE ENEMY

Luka. “He sabotaged our fleet, and you stood like a moron, watching him,” Don Aaron, also my Uncle, roared, shooting up to his feet and staring daggers at Matthew. “Everything was in place…His men interfered…” Matthew explained, but Aaron was already pissed. My jaw clenched as I stared at the biography of the son of the man I hated the most, sprawled on Aaron's table. “You incompetent piece of s**t!” His voice rang out in the room. Anger blazed in his dark eyes. “Do you have any idea how much we've lost? Do you?” Matthew fell silent. His head low. “Take this useless thing to the dungeon,” he ordered, and a group of men pulled Matthew out of the room. I'd been to the dungeon once. Matthew would not like it. “Luka,” Aaron called. I slowly looked away from Matthew as he was dragged away. He filled a glass with vodka and gulped it down in one go. “Kill him.” He began. “I want his head on my desk by whatever means necessary.” I loved the sound of that. But it was easier said than done. Did he think I could walk into the Vantra Cartel and eliminate their Don? He abandoned the glass, taking large gulps directly from the vodka bottle. “Do not come back here without his head on a plate.” He jammed his hand on a pile of documents on the table, shoving them at me, making the papers fly in different directions. I looked at him for some time, his flared nostrils indicating I shouldn't question his rudeness or delusions. His face was red with anger, his pulse beating faster. Fear and anger interlocked. A rare sight. He was scared of the cargo thief and not me. I looked at him with narrowed eyes. “That would be impossible.” I started, as calmly as I could muster, “We could always kidnap a Vantran or sink their ships. But killing their Don outright, would be tricky.” I explained, as I would to a kindergartener. “I don't care!” He roared again. His jaw clenched for a second. “Then bring him alive. I would love to show him a thing or two of my own.” His eyes blazed with wild fantasies as he spoke. That was going to be even harder. I sighed, collecting the papers from an associate who scurried to arrange them. I scanned them for a while, reading the biography of my target. I didn't know much about Gavril because all my life, I had studied his father Dante instead. All I knew was that he was the newly appointed Don of the Vantra clan. “Gavril Voss.” I scoffed. What a distasteful name. Voss… I scoffed. He must be like his father. That was enough reason to hate him as well. “No picture reference?” I asked. “He's always hidden behind masks. A rumor says that even his father stopped seeing his real face when he turned 18. Dangerous fellow!” I raised a brow and licked my dry lips. What a weirdo. I didn't care for the rest, so I rose from the seat. “So what's it gonna be? Your word.” I asked casually. “I'll make the preparations.” “He’ll be at the faceless gala tomorrow night. I'll secure you an invitation as fast as possible.” I observed the slight shiver of his fingers and for once I was jealous. Gavril had the ability to inflict fear. I found that quality, intriguing. “I'll have Clark send you all you need to know about tomorrow night.” I nodded and exited the tense office. The sound of heavy rock music blasted the air in an ear-bleeding noise as I walked out of the club. Women threw their bodies at me and if this were any other day I would have loved a little entertainment, but Clark had me covered for the night. From a mile away I pulled out my keys and unlocked my Mercedes-Benz S 600 L door before getting close and hopping in. I pulled out a cigarette from its case, lighting it. The Morecant clan and the Vantra cartel’s history of conflict began over sea ownership disputes, before I was even born. It wasn't so bloody then but after they staged an accident, killing my parents, Don and Donna Morecant, the war became a personal battle to avenge the dead. My personal battle to avenge the dead. I shut my eyes and breathed through my teeth, my hand tightening on the steering wheel. I took a long drag of the cigarette and exhaled, placing it securely between my lips before turning on the ignition. I let some classical music permeate the space in the car as I sped towards my house. I had killed as many Vantra clan members as possible, but my anger never dissipated. Maybe, just maybe, this job would let me exert the revenge I desperately craved. I got to my garage, lined with the latest cars, but I loved me a vintage beauty. I closed my car door and walked up to my room. I got to the elevator in no time and as the door opened, Linda—or was it Susan?—threw herself at me. The nauseating smell of layers of perfume threatened to block my nostrils. “You've been out all day.” She said in a sultry voice. I let her tend to me, pulling off my coat and shoes. Her red lingerie was so thin I could see her n*****s peeking through. Sex was the only thing that made me a bit…human? Normal? I indulged in it as frequently as I could. I walked towards her and lifted her effortlessly, striding towards the guest bedroom tossing her not too gently on the bed. I fumbled with my belt and when I got it undone, I pulled her close. “Easy there tiger. I won't run.” Her sultry voice teased, but I was too riled up to care for gentility. She moaned and I used my free hand to free out my c**k, shoving it into her hole. No patience. None required. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted, but my eyes traveled to her neck. A steady pulse beating in it. The urge to still the pulse and snip out the life from her was nerve-wracking, but I had one rule. I never killed the innocent. Not due to moral decadence but because of how boring it was. There was no satisfaction whenever the innocent died. I preferred blackened souls like mine. Make them writhe underneath my red-coated hands, their eyes bulging out of their face, their veins turning blue. “s**t!” I muttered, ramming my c**k in her tight p***y. Their dying faces would glow with that faint joy of death before going still, then losing warmth, then growing limp. Then no pulse. Fuck! What great imagery! I groaned in pleasure, fantasizing yet again, like I'd always done. My movements grew rapid. Fuck! I clenched my teeth and winced before unloading my seed into her, unaware that my hands were pressing tightly against her neck. She looked like she liked it, a smile on her pleasure-filled face. Of course, pain was pleasure. I breathed out ragged breaths and released her neck, getting off the bed. “Luka,” she called panting. “Mm?” I replied, preparing to go to the bathroom. “What's my name?” Why was she asking what her name was all of a sudden? “Did you forget your name?” I asked with a raised brow. “Did YOU forget?” she threw the question back at me. Here we go again. Why did all the women Clark brought over here care so much about hearing their name from me? It's his fault for bringing one woman this past week. He had one job. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Susan?” I didn't mean for my word to be a question but it came out as one. “Susan.” She repeated, getting to her feet swiftly. She walked towards the wardrobe and pulled out a box, packing. I crossed my hands watching her. “Linda?” I said suggestively. She rolled her eyes and put on clean clothes before zipping up her bag and dragging it towards the exit. I followed her until she was right in front of the elevator. She pushed the lobby button and looked at me like she was waiting for my answer. “Anna.” That was definitely her name. Most of the girls I knew were named Anna. She strutted into the elevator and when it began to close, she said, “Mirabel.” Then she was gone. I watched the closed doors for a second and shrugged. That wasn't the first time they left simply because I couldn't remember their names. I should stay away from s*x for a while. I walked into the bathroom and took a bath. When I was done, I picked up a toothbrush and put toothpaste on it, bringing it to my lips, looking into the mirror above the sink. Clark had fixed it yesterday. I wasn't going to be careless again today. Staring at myself in the mirror, he appeared again. I looked uninterestedly at the impersonator while brushing my teeth. Green eyes peered back at me with an eerie smile plastered on its owner's face…as always. “Why are you here again?” I asked. The first time the impersonator visited me was when I was seven, staring at my dead parents on the highway, the car was upside down with lots of people scurrying to get them out. A planned assassination. That was the first time I heard of the Vantra clan. The truck driver, who had a snake tattoo on his neck, grinned at my frozen body while leaving the crime scene. Everyone knew it was the Vantra clan’s doing but no one acted, all of them too afraid to go against a powerful clan. Looking back at the car smoking up, the impersonator was staring right back at me from the windshield. ‘You disgust me every time,’ he said. I spat the foam in my mouth and rinsed my lips. “I don't care,” I said flatly. ‘You should,’ I paused for a bit. My jaw clenched. I should get out of here. I dried my hands and tied a towel around my waist before turning to leave. ‘They hate you,’ he said. My blood was boiling with every passing second. As much as I wanted to take the steps out of here, I stayed in place. He laughed. ‘Their filial son?’ I clenched my fists and ground my teeth against each other. Take a step away from here, Luca. Do not succumb. ‘How did it feel to see them bleed because of you?’ ‘Exhilarating right? We both know you loved it.’ I was moving before I could fully process my thoughts, punching at the smug face mocking my existence. Shards of glass scattered everywhere but the distorted face in the mirror still glared at me. His eyes seemed to say, ‘Is that the best you could do?’ I picked up a shard of the glass, determined to show the fucker what I could do. I slammed it into my wrist, a smile creeping up my face. His distorted one, breaking slightly. “Why don't I join them?” I muttered. Yes! That's it. That pained expression, he always had on whenever I bled. Whatever shuts the fucker up, I'm willing to do. Blood trickled from my wrist down to the marble sink and into the drain. I placed the shard on the back of my palm, slicing without taking my eyes off the creature whose expression was already sullen. ‘Stop that,’ he said. I laughed. This was fun. It always was. Then my phone rang from the bedroom. The sound dulling the rampage in my head. I stared back at myself in the mirror, the fog dissipating. Then I looked down at my slit wrist. “Not again…” Having an injury before a big job was not advisable, yet for me it was inevitable. I placed my wrist underneath the flowing water, letting it wash the blood off. The sting of pain shot through my body forcing a small wince out of me. The blood didn't cease and I didn't care much either. He was finally quiet, so that was worth it. I walked out of the bathroom and picked up the phone. Four missed calls. PDF: Don Vantra I tossed the phone aside, not in the mood to see that face. I pulled open a drawer and piled sedative tablets on my palm, before tossing them into my mouth, chewing them down. I grabbed a bandage and wrapped my wrist in it after rubbing antiseptic on the wound. Clark would have to get rid of all the mirrors in the house.