Page 4 of Nemesync
I know she’s right; I know, I really do. But since then, I can’t take away the guilt, the faces every time I have a nightmare. Luna’s just added to the already existent list, and that’s the problem.
I glance at June, my pretty boy, and I think about how I may not be strong enough to avenge his own mother, how disappointed he’s going to be when he’s older.
“And what if June grows up too fast? And I’m not there to see him? All of this for what? You know very well what I have to do; I can’t just leave like this. I made a promise to myself, and I will keep it.”
“Zee... I know that’s how you settle things, but it’s not worth it?—”
I interrupt her, feeling my heart pounding in my ears, blood boiling within me. “She was worth it, you too are worth it, and I’ll find them one by one. They’ll pay for everything.”
She looks at June, sitting on my lap, and gently strokes his face. “You know what happened to me when I was younger and what resulted from it. I know the desire for revenge is huge, and you only want to serve your own justice. But in that world, things don’t happen as easily. They’ve been training since they were little; the clans create armies to defend themselves and obey them. You need to train even more than before to face them.”
Breathe Z, Breathe.
“I know,Mira. I will train harder. And I’ll kill them all for this.”
Before letting her respond, I drop some cash on the table to pay and tip, place a soft kiss on her’s and Jude’s cheek, and take off.
It was raining that day, pouring. Water again. She loved it. It’s not even surprising that she decided to end her life in her bathtub.
I never had real friends growing up; she was the only one who brought some semblance of comfort in this brutal world. And the worst part is that the sky was exactly as I imagined it when I learned about her death,sad... the sky was also crying for her. How could I not want to seek justice?
She didn’t ask for anything. She was a fucking child, a girl living her life in our city,Vesper. She was no stranger to itsshadows, which was enough in this world to endure the worst horrors. In the name of what they call Loyalty? Fucking men.
You killed her.
Not again…
Sometimes the demons in my head are so loud that I can’t even think straight. They tell me to leave, not just the place, but life entirely. They repeat that I let her die, that I should’ve died too. And that it’s my fault. And I believe them, I do.
I get back in my car and head towards my personal hell, home. In front of the gate, armed guards open it.
As usual, I know that when I’m going to come back, I’ll be alone in this big house, while my father does who knows what... I arrive in my room and throw myself onto the bed.
What’s my plan? How should I go about it?
I grab my computer, diving back into my research.
Years of missions with my father have given me a wealth of files on countless dangerous people—photos, videos, and detailed notes—all ready for analysis when the time comes. Today is the day and I’ve got everything at my fingertips.
I’m certain the Yakuza used this organization to settle scores, and possibly the Colombians as well. But there was one mob family that stood out above the rest on my list.
My father’s biggest enemies. Italian and Russians.
Too powerful and too silent. The Zennites.
They were so mysterious. I only saw one of their leaders once, at a funeral with my father. He ran past me so fast; I could not even remember his face. I immediately suspected their involvement in the incident, but I could not prove it.
I read faces not shadows or reputations.
In university, I studied criminology with the goal of becoming a profiler. There are 43 muscles in the face, and each movement conveys something—a feeling, an emotion—and I can’t help but analyze it. Faces communicate with me moreprofoundly than people do. I’ve always been deeply sensitive to others’ facial expressions and being adept at detecting lies was a bonus in my father’s eyes.
It was the most contradictory event in my life. The daughter of one of society’s greatest monsters, a man who should have been behind bars for eternity along with all his companions, studying criminology and psychology. I was the one who needed a psychologist to be honest.
My research led to nothing new. I had names I already knew, but nothing more. The Zennites were like ghosts, leaving behind few photos and little else to go on. I gathered intel on rumors of vendettas and kidnappings, rebellions inside their own ranks involving the daughters, sisters, mothers, even brothers and husbands of both clans and subjecting them to who knows what. But it wasn’t surprising. That’s how it worked in our world.
I knew the exposed part of it, but I couldn’t see beyond that. I also knew the little nickname people gave to their leaders in the industry: “The Venom Reapers”, the duo that made everyone fear for their life.
No faces, only shadows and stories involving blood and nightmares.Great.
