Page 63 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Upon closer inspection, he noticed Levi’s hands were undoing her shoes. The picture had been taken while he’d been in the middle of slipping them from her feet. A dainty vine tattoo wrapped itself around the same ankle.
Shaking his head with an incredulous huff, Mikko closed out of the photo and resumed trying to type up a snarky response. He’d triedmany times throughout the course of the night since he received it, but everything he typed felt desperate.
Maybe because I am?he thought sullenly.
But he couldn’t let her have the last word.
You might need to brush up on your anatomy knowledge…:unknown
Wow, an award winning response, for sure. Mikko rolled his eyes, pressing send anyway. Nothing would suffice; it was best to message her and get it out of the way.
Expecting her to take a while to text back, for reasons he tried to ignore, Mikko paced around his darkened penthouse.
Why was he letting Anika bother him so much? How had she clawed beneath his skin so thoroughly? Maybe this was his karma for all the years of living a life riddled with crime and wrongdoings. With his father gone, someone had to step into the dark reign, but it made Mikko’s skin itch. He avoided the nefarious dealings the best he could, but it was inevitable.
People had lived and died by his hand, and now at his command.
The thoughts of it kept him up at night. All the lives he’d taken or changed all for the name of development expansion or money. Portland’s landscape had changed over the last couple decades, prices of land and real estate increasing all while pushing thousands out who could no longer afford the rent. It was a terrible occurrence, one Alek had deemed necessary for the city’s resurgence.
It made Mikko’s stomach turn.
Small communities and cultures were erased all for the sake of dollar signs. Maybe one day, Mikko could speak up and change everything, but such radicalities took time. So he’d wait—
His phone rang in his pocket and cut through his spiraling. Groaning, his head fell forward to press against the cool glassoverlooking the city.
Let it go to voicemail.
But it continued to ring as if sensing his lack of action. The sound grated on his nerves, or maybe that was apprehension creeping in from sending Anika a text. Regardless, he looked down and saw the nameCristianoglaring back up at him.His friend had a bad habit of calling Mikko when he was the most inconvenienced.
“I swear, if you’re calling me to tell me that Levi went out on a date, I already know,” Mikko said immediately. His annoyance was palpable, but he couldn’t hold it in. “Besides, you know I like my evenings quiet.”
“If that doesn’t sound like a guilty conscience, I don’t know what does,” Cristiano huffed in his ear. “Especially, since Iwasn’tcalling about that. Good to know though; Anika and Levi: a touchy subject.”
“I’m sorry, the stress of it all must be getting to me.”
“We both know you’re not actually sorrybutyou don’t have to go through all this alone, y’know.” Cristiano waited a couple seconds before continuing, changing the subject thankfully. “Besides, your quiet evenings can still consist of you walking around naked and flexing in the reflection of your big windows. I wouldneverstand in the way of your self-care, but”—his friend drew out the last word—“I’ve got a development on Ivan.”
Mikko’s mouth opened to counter Cristiano’s idea of what he did at night when he shook his head and decided against it. “Go on.”
“Oh, all business despite my dig, unless what I said is true which I could’ve donewithoutthat mental image—”
“Cristiano,” Mikko interrupted with a small smile on his face, “you’re the one who planted that image in your own head. Now, tell me about Ivan.”
“Right, right. The morgue called about an hour ago to tell me about Ivan’s autopsy. I’m heading there now.”
“I hope you told them the excessive amount of drugs in his system wouldn’t be unusual.” It was common knowledge Ivan—and others in his circle—struggled with substance abuse. An unavoidable side effect of the job.
“They didn’t even mention it, but theydidsay they found something…unique.”
“Please tell me they told you more than that,” Mikko said, mind racing to uncover the answers to Cristiano’s cryptic sentences. “Unique how?”
“Uh…” his friend cleared his throat, “they found somethinginsidehis body, something that was, erm, placed there intentionally.”
“Like a clue?”
“All the mortician would say was it wasn’t organic material.”
Mikko’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
