Page 1 of Justyce
Chapter One – Justyce
Thunder crashes in the distance, adding to my already agitated mood. I watch the rain slamming down on the windscreen of my AMG Mercedes Benz.What a fucking day. Shifting gears rapidly, I sink into the leather seat and welcome the growl of the V8 engine as I gun it down the Pacific Coast Highway toward the club. Arcane is a club that my brothers and sister and I own, and when I say brothers and sisters it’s not necessarily in the concept one would think. We aren’t bound by the same blood. We are the next generation of the Tartarus Mafia. But I’ll get to that soon.
My eyes flick down to the lit up clock on the dashboard and I realize I’m late for the meeting, but no one will say a damn thing, they never do. After all, why would anyone put themselves on my shit radar? Me, Justyce Travino, the Underboss of one of the most dangerous Mafia’s in America. I’ll let you in a secret, no one is dumb enough if they like the air they’re breathing.
The streetlights flash by almost unrecognizable to my eyes, until I slow and pull up to the gates of Arcane. Looking to my left, I see the water glimmering in the moonlight. How I yearn to feel that… free.
Clearing my throat, I break away from the weak ruminations scattering in my skull and look over to see a beefed up security guard exiting the small office. I eye him, skeptically, watching as he closes, walking the short distance between my car and himself. His hand is on his gun holster. Smart.
Thanks to Mother Nature and how angry the rain is spitting down, I can’t see the guard’s face yet. Hitting the electric window button, the glass pane quickly lowers, and I come face to face with Sniper. The name fits him perfectly.
Sniper is an ex-marine. His dark brown curly hair is cut close to his scalp, and his white shirt does nothing to hide the amass of ink underneath it. However, the reason Sniper landed himself this job protecting our investment, and everything in-between, is because he’s mighty fine with any type of gun. And with a sniper out for your ass, you may as well say your prayers to whatever god you kneel to.
“Mr. Travino.” He inclines his head in greeting before smashing the button to open the gates.
Nodding, I address him, “Sniper. Busy night for us?”
“Yes, Sir. Another shipment arrived earlier today. Mr. Hexino has seen to it already.”
Hexino, aka my brother, Acheron, is one dark, broody, and sadistic mother fucker. If anyone thinks I’m fucked up, wait till they meet him. Let’s just say, there is no way I would ever want to be on his bad side. Acheron has demons, and the scars to prove it.
“Thank you, Sniper. I’ll see you later on.”
Sniper nods his head once more as I press my foot on the accelerator and crawl through the gates. Looking in my rear vision mirror, I see the splay of red from my lights over Sniper’s dark skin, causing me to smile. That man was built for this life, whether he wanted it or not is irrelevant now.
I park the Mercedes in my allocated spot, turn off the ignition and reach behind my seat to grab my mask. The stars reflect off the mask that I’ve worn for the better part of my life. It represents everything I am, even if I’m the only one that understands it. There’s old magic embedded into mine and my brothers and sisters masks, and I feel it every single time it rests against my flesh.
Running my thumb over the sugar skulls intricate artwork, my irises lock with the hollow sockets that my eyes will soon encompass. I continue to trace around the holes of the eyes.The gunmetal grey, the red and electric bluesends fire pulsing through my veins, especially the electric blue. I could never forget that color no matter how fucking hard I try.
The mask is for intimidation, a way to hide my identity when I’m in the club, or… But that’s not all this mask represents to me. There is a deeper connection that my mask and I have. If I’m honest, I think it’s the same for my brothers and sister.
A strand of my hair falls into my eyes, snapping me from my thoughts. I blow a heavy breath out, sending it flying out of my face. Arcane isn’t just a club. It’s our livelihood, it’s the pure, yet the most depraved part of us all, especially the latter.
I look around the carpark. The water still winking at me in the distance and I remember when this used to be the old yacht club of Dany Point, with all those pretentious fucks inside thinking their shit doesn’t stink, that they’re better than the man or woman they stand next to because they believe they’ve hidden their coveted desires better than the others. Fuck that shit. Here at Arcane, even when their faces are hidden behind a mask, they can’t hide. It’s here that debasement takes on a whole different level, one that even I find arduous to accept at times. It’s not the ground level that bothers me, it’s what’s beneath.
However, given I’m not as omnipotent as I’ll inevitably be, I have to bite my tongue and answer to the elders, to my father Draconis who is our Don, aka Mafia Boss of the Tartarus Mafia. Of course my kin would pool all the founding families together and name them after a dungeon of fucking torment.
I work under my father because I’m his heir, his second in command, which means I oversee a lot of shit and people underneath me. My shoulders are leaden from trying to keep everyone in line, but I don’t have much say in the matter. They say the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, but my hand is heavy and twisted, a little skewed.
My father doesn’t make anything easy of us because he gets off on the power trip he’s on. My grandfather, Tony, is in Italy and has been for some time. That’s the only reason my father has the throne. It’d do him well to remember that. Fucking asshole. Thinking of him has me gripping the steering wheel tighter and my knuckles turning white. Draconis is a bastard but I would kill for Acheron, Raine and Arrow. Hell, I already have.
Bile rises up my esophagus, but I stamp out any emotion that will make me feel, because I have no heart. I have no desire to feel. I’m a monster, a fiend, a demon, whatever dark fucked up thing that hides under your bed at night. That’s me, that’s what I am, a monster lurking in the shadows and waiting to strike.
Sliding the mask over my face, a sense of belonging, want and debauchery washes through my dark thoughts. The blood hisses insides my veins, pulsing, screaming for me to exercise my demons, but I tramp them down and open the car door. Sheltering my masked face and hair as much as possible, I run toward the back door of Arcane.
Observing my surroundings, I make certain no one is around before punching the code into the access point. Once I’m satisfied, I tap in the lock code and enter. Stepping into the heat of the corridor, the beat of the music thrums and vibrates underneath my feet.
I don’t expect to see anyone in this part of the club because it’s off limits. For the members, there is only one point of entry and exit, and that’s the way we prefer it. Up top anyway.
The red carpet squishes under the soles of my expensive leather, black Bolvaint shoes as I walk toward the door that opens up to the main club.
Adrenaline pumps through every cavity as I check to make sure the mask is positioned over my face correctly. Content, I swipe a card through the lock and walk into Arcane.
Closer, by Nine Inch Nails pounds heavily throughout, and I find it fitting when I make it toward one of the black and gold laced trimmed bars at the back of the club. Brandy, the barmaid and stripper, nods her head in my direction, knowing it’s me underneath the mask. She motions toward the Macallan 1926 that’s reserved for only me and I signal four fingers.
Brandy turns around to collect the bottle and I don’t hide the fact that I’m eating her up with my eyes. Her long dark brown hair is curled and hangs down her back, finishing at her lumbar region. I can’t help gawking as she swings her hips to the beat of the music. The tiny G-string she wears, and nothing else, has her ass jiggling in all the right places. I should know because I’ve fucked her more times than I care to admit from behind.
When she turns around with glass in hand, not even the pearl pink mask that the women employees wear can shroud the grin peeking out from behind. Just like every other woman, Brandy thinks she can tame the beast within, show me what I’m missing. Insert air quotes for the dramatized bullshit because they have no idea what the fuck they’re even toying with. There was only one woman that has ever made me feel… something. Even thinking of her after so many years has the frustration, anger and libidinous wrapping its imaginary hand so tightly around my shaft that I groan in discomfort.Fuck her.
