Chapter 34 continuation 2

Letter twelve:

'I stood on the bridge and listened to the water flowing.

Felt the wind.

It worked its way to the bones, making the body shudder with cold.

The weather was disgustingly vile. Clouds began to cover the last bright patches in the sky, and soon a few drops of rain fell on the face.

I was standing on the edge of the bridge near the cliff where the car broke the fence at speed.

I stood where her hand slipped from mine.

My eyes scanned the blue waters, trying to find something. The rain became persistently heavy, making the clothes soaked to the threads.

I'm glad it rained.

He washed away my tears, and I think no one could notice them. Maybe.

Fragments of this terrible moment flashed before my eyes, and I saw everything as clearly as then. I noticed the reflection of her face in the water, and at that moment, I realized that I had lost my mind.

The body shuddered with hysteria, which grew inside me with renewed vigor. I couldn't control it.

I lost control of everything I had a long time ago.

The power has gone from my hands.

My legs stopped holding, and I fell to my knees, punching the wet asphalt with my fist.

'It's my fault! It's my fault! I'm sorry! Please forgive me if you hear...'

I beat the asphalt with my bare hands, feeling hatred for myself inside my body.

When the strength left my body, I lifted my head up, closing my eyes. Raindrops washed over my face, removing salty streaks from my cheeks.

After a while, an idiotic thought visited my head, but at that moment it seemed appropriate, because I believed that it simply could not be otherwise.

I got to my feet and walked up to the cliff, so close that my head was spinning. I had no reason to live anymore, so why couldn't I finish this? I gathered my courage, closed my eyes and exhaled.

Step forward.

I was flying down, feeling a strong air current in my face.

'I love you, Hailey,' I whispered as I sank into the water.

I went to heal my wounds.'

Miller finished reading what was written on the sheet of paper, putting it aside in the pile of reads. Hands reached for the next letter, but when his eyes looked up, he found an empty table. There were no more sheets. Eyebrows narrowed at the bridge of the nose in disbelief. A stupid thought visited his head, wondering if James died. Nick shook his head, pushing away the meaningless thoughts. He is alive, because there is the last letter from his hand.

The guy searched all the nightstands looking for some kind of appeal, but there was nothing else.

The room had no continuation.

Meanwhile, James left the apartment, pulling a black hood over his head. The night hid him, the young man left the house, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, clearly feeling the silhouette of a gun.

His little work is done. Bullet in the head, man dead.

With a quick gait, he disappeared from the street, going into the nooks and crannies between the skyscrapers. Nobody heard any more news about James Foster, his part of the city was free, at least people thought so.

His hands and clothes were dirty, covered in someone else's blood.

The brown-haired man went into the club to find the right person with whom he still had a connection. He was still in the building with his head covered when he went to the bar to get a drink. The bartender did not recognize him as the son of Williams Foster, no one else could recognize him.

Having drunk a glass of strong cognac in one gulp, he paid the money, going deep into the club.

Looking at the familiar silhouette, the guy confidently went to the table. An unexpected push in the shoulder from some man angered the brown-haired man, and he wanted to open his mouth, but the man interrupted him: 'We could drop a few bombs if you want.'

'Go to hell!' Barked Jay, intending to quit drugs.

He shoved the man hard with his shoulder in response, and moved on.

At the table was a young guy who also came here to talk. Foster sat down on the couch, removing the hood from his head. He turned his head towards his friend, nodding his head.

'I killed Joe.'

'I'm glad you were able to get revenge. But I didn't call you for that. I called you in order to reason with your head.'

'Speak.'

'You know our laws, I'll remind you not to relax,' the young man took a sip of alcohol, glaring at James with a serious look. 'You haven't shown up in four months. The place is empty. Term of five months to find a person who will take power. You either take the West and the East into your own hands, or even without this, you put in your place the one who owns the territory of the South or the North. But we all understand that Stanley Hartman will easily take it from Jack Johnson.'

James shook his head negatively.

'What have you decided?'

'I wash my hands, Nathan,' the brown-haired man said with all the seriousness in his voice.

'Are you out of your mind?!' Evans shouted, rising abruptly from the couch.

Glancing around to see that no one had noticed them, he sat back down.

'Are you leaving two territories that are rightfully yours? Wake up, James, pull yourself together, what are you doing at all?'

'Shut up, I already made up my mind. My East is yours now, Nathan. And I give the territory of the West to Miller.'

'My respect, but are you really sure of your decision? What are you going to do next? With your lifestyle to die in your home alone?'

'No, I'm gradually returning to life. I don't like being somewhere in between. I'm leaving tomorrow, and then I'll pull myself together. I can't be here anymore, everything reminds me of her everywhere. I'm not as strong as you.'

Nathan blinked away the excess water in his eyes to keep from crying. He emptied his glass at once, leaning back against the couch.

'We all suffered. So,' the guy swallowed, afraid to utter his guesses. 'You won't come back?'

'No. I believe in you. Tomorrow I will sign an agreement on the transfer of my lands. You will find it in the right building, in my office. Farewell, Nathan.'

The brown-haired man pursed his lips, tightly hugging his childhood friend. Evans closed his eyes, patting Foster on the back in support.

This was their last meeting.

James quickly got up from his seat, without looking back, to walk away from the club without a feeling of anguish. It was hard to understand that you were literally saying goodbye to everything you had. But it was simply necessary to leave the city in order to start life anew.

Miller returned from the left building to the right, waiting for a new letter. Entering Foster's private room, he realized that nothing had changed. Everything lay exactly as Nick left it for the last time. He left the room in disappointment, quietly closing the door behind him. He continued down the corridor when, looking up, he noticed that the door to James's private office was ajar.

Narrowing his eyebrows on the bridge of his nose, the young man carefully looked inside, immediately noticing two sheets of paper covered with writing on the table.

He walked over to the desk, picking up the first address from it.

'Nick, I'm back, and I want to tell you right away that I'm leaving you. I'm alive, but I don't think you're interested, I guess. Tell Tyler that I'm very sorry to him. I apologize to him, I was not myself to be able to say such a thing. You know that I own two territories. I refuse them. Now the East officially belongs to Nathan, and you own the West. Rule wisely and forget me as if I never existed.

I'm leaving, or rather, at the moment when you read my letter, I'm either on the plane, or I'm already in another city.

Farewell, Miller.

You were a good friend, not always, but you were.

You are the one who has always stayed by my side.

Thanks, Nick.'

The guy put down the read appeal, tightly pursing his lips to contain all emotions. He blinked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His gaze returned to another sheet that lay on the table, realizing that it was an official document. It reported on the transfer of land, and at the end there was a confirmation by the signature personally from James Foster.

'Goodbye, Jay.'

'Happy ending? Sorry, we're not at Disney.'