Page 50 of Fragile Twisted Vows

“Let’s go. Don’t say a word when we arrive,” I order and she nods at me robotically, something she’s become great at doing.

We walk to my blacked-out Audi and I get a text from Bruno that he and Andy are already at the warehouse with the body. I head that way and Lucy is quiet most of the time.

It’s a business that I own on the upper east side. The basement serves as a partial warehouse where the main floor is a butcher’s shop. I bought it mostly for the equipment, but also because of its discreet location.

When we arrive, I sigh and kill the engine.

“You don’t have to go in there, you know. It’s not in the contract. In fact, I’d rather not include you in such personal-”

“I’m going.” She cuts me off, short and clipped.

There is no emotion on her beautiful face. She is cold and emotionless, but not like her family can be. She’s made a wall of protection around herself and I can see right through it. She’s using her quiet strength as a defense mechanism and I can’t help but admire it because it’s one of the first things I learned in basic training.

You are a wall to the hideous despair you will see in the outside world. Do not let anyone or thing try to break it down, not even anguish or guilt. Nothing.

“I’m ready,” she says, her blue eyes dark in the moonlight, her face hard as stone as her hand wraps around the door handle.

“Let’s go,” I say, trying not to admire her. Trying not to be in awe of her.

I walk with her to the back alleyway that snakes down and leads to the door of the warehouse. The butcher shop is closed and won’t be open for a few more days due to new renovations, so this job doesn’t have to be rushed, though I’d really like it to be.

When we enter, Andy and Bruno are unzipping the body bag and laying him on the table next to the meat grinder. I stand there with my hands behind my back as I give them a short nod when they take in Lucy’s presence. They are not fazed, though, I pay them not to be.

I look over at Lucy, whose arms are crossed over her breasts. Her eyes never travel to me, they are locked on the saw that Bruno pulls out. They don’t close, don’t even blink as he starts to saw the body into several pieces so that it can be put in the meat grinder. She doesn’t speak, I’m worried that she might not even be breathing. But despite all of that, I can tell by the pensive look in her eyes and twitch in her thick brow, a question is brewing.

“Ask it,” I command, hating that I want to know what’s going on inside of her head.

“If they are taking care of this, why are you here?” she asks as she watches Bruno slice the body while Andy wipes the blood.

“To make sure it gets done right,” I say, even though I trust Bruno, but when you’re dismembering a body and covering up a murder, you have to make sure you know that it was taken care of. I’ve seen too many men grow ignorant and complacent and they’ve either wound up in a Colombian prison or with a bullet in their heads.

Once the body is dismembered, Bruno and Andy push the parts one by one into the meat grinder. It is a loud machine and all we can hear is the crushing and grinding of a man who will be wiped from existence. Lucy watches the whole thing and I watch her.

“What did he do?” she asks quietly as her eyes remain locked on the machine that grinds a man down into nothing, the meat of his flesh falling into a large bucket.

“Stole from me. Stole a lot,” I say as I eye her closely.

“Is that why you killed him?” she asks, and I tilt my head at her.

“No, I killed him because he was running at you with a knife,” I say honestly and she sniffles then, but doesn’t look at me.

Time passes and silence stretches, except for the grinder as it continues to pull body parts through. Andy sparks a match and ignites a fire in the large stone oven that’s built into the wall of the warehouse. It’s used for smoking large portions of meat, but also does wonders for an impromptu burning. The chimney extends to the very top of the store, so the smoke will mostly smell of cured or smoked meat, something not too uncommon for an overnight butcher shop in New York City.

“If I didn’t show up, would you have let him live?” she asks, turning to look at me now, her eyes void of all emotion.

I want to reach out and move the strand of hair that falls to her cheek, but I refrain.

Instead, I shrug.

“It was his first offense. I would have taken his fingers for the crime, but allowed him a few days to find me the money. If he didn’t, then I would have killed him.” I answer honestly, looking at her closely as she takes in my words.

She doesn’t say it, but I can see the fleeting emotion on her face and it speaks volumes. She regrets walking in because it could have spared a man’s life. She blames herself.

“Don’t do that,” I order, and she tilts her chin up at me as I walk closer and tower over her frame. “He was a thief, a selfish one at that. He had no family he was fighting for, no loved ones he was trying to feed or get to. He did it for drugs and himself,” I say, and she remains silent, immobile.

“This is a business, Lucy. People do bad things in this world and in my business, they pay for it. When they fuck me over, I do it right back. An eye for an eye,” I say, and she tilts her head at me.

“So you’re Karma? Taking the initiative to make the whole world blind?” she rasps out and I sigh, because in a way, she’s right.

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