Page 35 of Blood Debt
Then a soft click. Gunmetal.
I don’t watch.
I walk toward the open bay doors, the warm smell of the afternoon breeze brushing up against the blood-soaked interior.
A crack echoes behind me. A gull screams high above the docks.
****
We walk to the car in the open lot. Dust kicking up in little clouds. It’s bright out here. The light feels too clean after the warehouse. My shirt smells of smoke and iron.
Matteo keeps a respectful distance as he walks behind me. He knows better than to break the silence too early. He always knows when something’s off.
Still, after a few moments, he clears his throat.
“The shipment from Kalgoorlie’s cleared customs. Clean paperwork. I spoke to the handler directly.” He watches my side profile as we walk. “The men we stationed in Brisbane confirmed control of the new dock rotation. No federal sniffing. Port registry checks out.”
I nod once.
Matteo hesitates. “We—uh—we also handled the Avellino leak. Quietly. They won’t be talking.”
I stop by the car. The driver’s already holding the back door open.
But I don’t get in.
“Take me to the bar.”
Matteo blinks. “You want to—now?”
I turn my head just slightly. Meet his gaze without blinking.
He shuts his mouth and nods. “Alright.”
The inside of the car smells like leather and pine cleaner. The windows are tinted too dark, keeping the daylight out. I slide in and close the door behind me with a soft click.
Matteo settles beside me, stiff.
I rest my forearm against the edge of the door and stare out at the passing docks. Fences. Shipping containers. Rusted freight cranes looming over the water like tired giants.
But my thoughts are somewhere else entirely. She didn’t recognize me.
Not even a flicker of pause in her eyes. Not in her voice. Not in the way her fingers moved. Like I was no one. Like I was forgettable.
Seven years. One night that left something raw inside of me.
She vanished without a note. I remember waking up and reaching for her. Only empty sheets. The scent of her still soaked into the pillow.
I’d searched the city for a day. Just to know her name.
Never found her. Until she shows up in a maid’s uniform, speaking with a lower register, avoiding eye contact like I’m just another man who signs her pay.
I inhale slowly. The heat that spreads through my chest isn’t anger.
The bar glows ahead, neon flickering in the daylight.
“Pull in,” I say.
The driver does as told. Matteo watches me from the corner of his eye.
