Chapter 137

"Dax isn't going to like knowing that his intern was killed," Cole confessed.

Dante put his gun away, wrinkling his nose.

"He should hire someone who does a good job, not a pervert."

I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't stand knowing that when I was with Dante, everyone around me died. That he saw people as so disposable. That he didn't care about the consequences.

The impulse took over me. I acted quickly, before he had time to react, and the impact of my hand on his face was stronger than the shot from his gun.

Then, I hit him again. Pushing him and crying. Punching his chest as if I had any chance of winning against him.

"I hate you! I hate you!"

My punches were consecutive. He didn't stop. He let me hurt him. Let me wound him. Let me throw him to the ground and keep giving everything I had.

But that meant nothing to him. I was an ant in his castle. A shove or a punch was minimal for his greatness.

The knife was in my hand. I could stab him. I could make blood spill just like his victim. I would open his chest. I would see that there was no heart beating.

It was dark.

It was the darkness that gave life to Dante.

"Aren't you going to finish the job, Gray? Aren't you going to kill me?"

I cried violently.

Even with the knife, I didn't use it. I didn't kill him.

I needed to see him suffer. He didn't deserve death like the others he had given. He deserved much more. He deserved eternal pain.

He deserved to burn.

"How long are you going to keep being a spoiled brat?" he asked. "No one wants you to deal with deaths that aren't yours. We just want the damn map."

"I don't have it! I don't have that stupid thing you all want. And even if I did, I wouldn't give it!" I repeated what I was tired of saying. "What's mine stopped being mine since that day. You killed me that day."

His jaw clenched.

"I warned you I would do it. You didn't believe me."

The crying was compulsive. The tears burned my face.

"I disgust you. I abhor you," I spat.

"Go on. I don't want you to give me love. I never did." His voice was guttural, sad, and a disaster. "Go, Emília. If you want so badly to see my destruction, go. You're not a prisoner here. If you don't have what we want, go on with your life."

I got up, wiping my face aggressively with my fists.

"Dante..." Cole sighed, but his friend stood up and raised his hand in a sign of prohibition.

"You can go, Gray," he continued. "Do what you think is best. The order is mine."

I waited for a laugh. Some embarrassment. But Dante just stood up, wiped some of the blood from his nose, and walked out of the kitchen.

His friends chased him, then turned back to examine me. There were so many doubts, just like I had. However, I refused to consider what to do.

I was going to leave. I would tell whoever I could and do whatever it took to have Dante arrested. Him and his friends. I wouldn't show any mercy.

Crossing the corpse and its traces of humanity on the floor punched deep in my stomach. The smell rotting in my nostrils gave me a much stronger high than whatever had made me sleep for an entire day. I would be a future doctor, so I knew how to handle blood and exposed organs, but the feeling of witnessing the act of killing was painful.

I ventured further into the space, realizing it was huge and could be another labyrinth. But, luckily, I followed the traces of light, reaching a small door that seemed to be at the top.

The stairs led there, and I climbed them until I opened the door and noticed I had always been underground. For some reason, Dante lived beneath the earth.

I climbed until my feet landed on the grass. I was lost. It was a huge forest, with trees and the chirping of some animals being the only signs of life around.

There was a huge black Cherry Tiggo parked, but I didn’t have a driver's license, let alone an idea of how to drive it.

I decided to walk alone through the vastness of the trees. With the knife in hand, I ran through the bushes, remembering how it was to meet Dante in the middle of the forest. How he extended his hand to me and declared that he wanted to keep me alive.

If I could go back and make some decisions, killing myself that day might have been a relief.

It was naive to believe every word he said. I was stupid to see kindness in a heart where devastation resided.

Christ. I was so foolish.

I couldn't be more dominated by those feelings. I had to do what was important. Get my revenge for what he had done to me.

Just as he betrayed me, I would betray him too.

I don't know how long I walked, stepping and tearing my skin on the sharp branches of those plants, but before dusk, thirsty for water and starving for food, I spotted a road.

Asking a driver to take me to the precinct wasn't my smartest move because the questions that came made the journey uncomfortable. Fortunately, it wasn’t as far from Olympus City’s center as it seemed.

The man dropped me at the precinct entrance, with questions that made me deny all of them. If I needed help, if I was being abused at home, if my boyfriend was hitting me.

Of course, it was impossible to say that the guy I loved was perhaps one of the most wanted criminals in the country. However, I resigned myself to saying that they had stolen something valuable from me.

He accepted and went back to his route.

I opened the precinct door, scrutinizing the place that diminished my hope. Our country was a mess. The lack of security lived in the streets. The atrocities that happened required years and years of investigation. However, they were so relaxed that they played cards and talked about the young girls they had on their phones.

My stomach turned in nausea.

"What’s wrong, girl?" one of them asked as I approached the reception desk. "Need something?"

"I know who the Faceless Faces are, and I know where Dante Faulkner, the main cause of the Day of Punishment, is."

I didn’t waste time when I arrived. I needed to put my name on the line and make the necessary moves to win.

They exchanged glances, curiosity dominating every line of expression.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, leaving his deck of cards on the table and walking towards me.

"I have names and addresses. I know who the bastards are and where to find them."

The guys stayed silent, asking questions among themselves. But they were interested. They wanted answers.

"How do I know a brat like you isn’t just bluffing?"

"I have proof."

He laughed as if he was spitting.

"You have no idea how many kids like you come here with false evidence just to gain fame."

"I am the proof," I declared. "I saw them. I know them."

His eyes lit up, but his resilience was greater.

"Go home. It's better," he advised. "You should know that anyone who shows up to say anything about them is dead. Or do you think there's no progress in the investigation? Why do you think that is?"

I pressed my hands against the counter, breathing until I was fed up.

"Have you heard of the former directors of Othello Hospital? I'm their daughter. Emília Gray. If you don't believe it, do a quick search."

He stepped back, communicating with his colleagues through exchanged glances. After some silent reflection, the officer flared his nostrils and shrugged.

"Go into that room. My colleague will accompany you. I'll call the chief."

His blonde-haired colleague stood up and motioned for me to move forward. I still had the knife with me, so if this was some kind of trap, I wouldn't hesitate to kill them. My life was more important at that moment. It was the only thing against Dante. I would keep breathing if my existence caused chaos.

I sat on one of the available benches. The memory of being interrogated after the Day of Punishment was still palpable. I remembered every detail, how ridiculously deceived I felt by Dante, and how my mourning would always blame him.

My crying still echoed in those walls. My scream of pain still ripped through my lungs.

I hated him so much that day.

Now, I repulsed his being.

I drummed my fingers, waiting for whoever would have the audacity to know firsthand the whereabouts of the most wanted man in recent years. The one who made the city more dangerous than a wolf’s cave. Dante was a ghost, a legend that people were still afraid of.

And they should be.

Now those boys I let slip would pay as well.

"So, the Gray girl knows who the Faceless Faces are." The forced tone of arrogance and sarcasm was attached to the door that opened at that very moment. "Tell me what I don't know, and maybe I'll decide what to do with you."

It can't be.

My muscles tensed. For one prolonged second, I reconsidered my actions and what I could do to work around them. However, that was my weakness. Thinking I was always one step ahead of people. That I could trust them just like I trusted myself.

The atmosphere froze, just like that old, wrinkled face, full of war scars. My outrage debuted in the pain of my nails digging into my arm. It was a pain I wanted to feel until I learned my damn lesson.

I had gone to Torman. Dante's adoptive father and the only one I was sure knew Dante's character better than anyone.