Page 75 of Angelic Vengeance

“Zach–”

“Don’t…” He turned his head away from me; like he was in some sort of pain. “Don’t say my fucking name.”

I locked my jaw and spoke again, firmer than before. “Zach, this isn’t funny anymore.”

“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself,” He muttered as he stood back to his full height.

Speechless, I watched him walk away before finding my voice. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He didn’t bother to look at me. “It’s just business.”

I short-circuited. The words too ruinous to sink in immediately.

Nothing, but the sound of his footsteps as he walked away.

“Zach.”

“Alright,” He finally spoke when he reached the wall, though he didn’t turn around. “You just sit there quietly and keep looking pretty. I’ll be back in a few days.” He opened a door I hadn’t even been able to make out in the dark, allowing light to flow in from the hallway. I remained cast in his shadow.

“Zach! What the fuck?”

He finally turned around and we looked at each other for a long moment, though I didn’t recognize the man in front of me. His eyes were completely emotionless, lacking any of the warmth I was used to. Black, empty pools of ink; pure oblivion.

Too late to stop myself, my eyes stung, my vision blurring at the edges.

“Zach…?” My voice came out a whisper, barely audible over the thundering of my pulse.

A sardonic smile. “Que sueñes con los angelitos,querida.”

Realization washed over my face.

Their name,another tick on my list. My message,a parting dagger,‘Que sueñes con los angelitos.’

My lips parted, though nothing came out.

He left, and the door closed, leaving me to be swallowed by the darkness.

Nothing could save me from myself.

PART 2

THREE MONTHS AGO

CHAPTER 26

Present

24 years old

Manhattan,New York City

CLOUDS OF SMOKE FLOATED AROUND me before slowly twirling higher and disappearing. Rap music pumped through the speakers, the bass vibrating in the marrow of my bones. Purple and red lights flashed in the dark, providing some clarity through the darkness of the nightclub.

Before I could stop myself, my hand went into my trousers pocket, immediately finding the small, metal object. Anger consumed me the more I twisted it between my fingers.

Throwing my other arm around the back of the booth couch, I leaned my head back and took a deep breath. The empty ammo burned in my palm. Another night of memories muddling my mind.

Whispered promises.

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