Chapter 25 (Enzo)

Ettore pulls the car into the parking lot of a rundown motel. The Neshaminy Inn, its faded sign proclaims, though half the letters are missing or hanging crooked. The brown paint is peeling, and the whole place looks like it hasn't seen an upgrade since the 70s. Typical fleabag joint, the kind that rents by the hour to working girls and their johns.

Across the busy road, a shiny new Wawa store stands in stark contrast to the decrepit motel. Cars speed by, a constant stream of noise and movement. We're just outside the city limits, far enough away that nobody asks too many questions.

Ettore cuts the engine and lights up a cigarette. The acrid smell fills the car, making me wrinkle my nose in disgust.

"So what's the deal with this guy?" I ask, eager to get this over with.

Ettore takes a long drag before answering. "Junkie. Started with gambling, then got into the hard stuff. Meth, maybe heroin. Who fuckin' knows anymore."

"And the debt?"

"Couple months behind on payments. Giacomo's been lenient, but enough's enough, you know?"

I nod. I do know. Giacomo's patience only stretches so far before it snaps. And when it does, it ain't pretty.

"What's the play?" I ask, though I already have a good idea.

Ettore grins, a predatory gleam in his eye. "You play nice guy. If that don't work, we rough him up a bit. Make sure he understands the consequences of crossing us."

"Got it," I say, reaching for the door handle. "Let's get this shit over with."

"Hold up," Ettore says, taking another drag. "Gotta finish my smoke."

I roll my eyes. "Jesus Christ, man. Your fucking lungs are gonna fall out one of these days."

He just laughs, blowing smoke in my direction. "We all gotta die of something, right?"

Finally, Ettore stubs out his cigarette and we climb out of the car. The motel is your typical split-level setup, with outdoor entrances to each room. We head for the stairs.

"Room 206," Ettore informs me. "Second floor."

"Of course it is," I mutter. "Why can't these assholes ever hole up on the ground floor?"

Ettore chuckles as we start climbing. The metal stairs are rickety, creaking ominously under our weight. I hate second-floor jobs. Makes for a tricky getaway if things go south. One wrong move and you're trapped in the stairwell, easy pickings for anyone with a gun and half-decent aim.

We reach room 206, and Ettore pounds on the door. No answer.

"You sure he's in there?" I ask.

Ettore nods. "Jimmy's been watching the place. Says the guy rarely leaves before 2 PM."

He knocks again, louder this time. "Open up!" he shouts. "Don't make me break this fuckin' door down!"

I lean against the railing, arms crossed. It always goes like this. Hurry up and wait. Makes me antsy.

"Last chance, asshole!" Ettore yells. "I break this door, things are gonna get a whole lot worse for you!"

Just as Ettore's about to make good on his threat, we hear the click of a lock. The door opens a crack, revealing a haggard-looking man in his early forties. His thinning hair is greasy and unkempt, and his brown eyes are glazed over. Definitely high on something.

"Who are you?" he slurs, squinting at us.

I step forward, putting on my best "reasonable guy" act. "We're here to talk," I say calmly. "Why don't you let us in before my friend here loses his patience?"

The man hesitates, then opens the door wider. The stench that wafts out nearly knocks me over. It's a sickening mix of unwashed bodies, stale booze, and God knows what else.

We push our way inside, taking in the squalor. Empty beer cans litter every surface, and I spot several used needles on the dresser. Christ, what a mess.

The man starts to back away, but I grab his arm. "Stay put," I order. "We've got business to discuss."

"Who are you?" he asks again, fear creeping into his voice.

"I'm Enzo," I say. "This is my associate, Ettore. We're here about your debt."

The man's face goes pale. "I don't have any money," he insists. "I told you guys that last time!"

I sigh, keeping my voice level. "Listen, buddy. Giacomo's been patient with you. But that patience has run out. It's time to pay up."

Ettore steps closer, grinning menacingly. For a moment, I almost feel bad for the guy. He looks like any suburban dad you'd see at a Little League game. But then I remember he probably destroyed his family's life for a fix, and my sympathy evaporates.

As Ettore starts rifling through drawers, the man becomes more agitated. "Look, I swear I'll have some money soon. Just a few more days, I promise!"

I'm losing patience. "Here's the deal," I say bluntly. "My friend here is gonna take anything of value he finds in this shithole. You've got about two minutes to tell me where you're hiding the real money before things get ugly. Understand?"

Ettore snorts. "So much for playing nice guy, huh?"

I ignore him, focusing on our target. "What's your name?"

"T-Ted," he stammers.

"Alright, Ted. Clock's ticking. Start talking."

Ted is practically shaking now, his eyes darting between me and Ettore. I've rarely felt such intense loathing for someone. I've dealt with plenty of junkies in this job, but there's something about Ted that's particularly pathetic. Maybe it's because I can see the ghost of who he used to be - a regular guy with a family and a life. Now he's just a shell, existing in this grimy motel room with nothing but his addiction for company.

"I... I have a friend," Ted says desperately. "He said if I do some work for him, he'd lend me money. I swear, I'll have a bunch of cash real soon!"

I shake my head. "Not good enough, Ted. Try again."

"I don't have anything else!" he wails. "Please, I-"

"Bingo!" Ettore emerges from the bathroom, holding up a plastic bag with a wad of bills inside.

Ted groans, realizing he's been caught.

"Let me guess," I say coldly. "You hid it in the toilet tank?"

Ted nods miserably. "I... I was hiding it from the maid. Not from you guys, I swear!"

"Right," I sneer. "Because you need to hide your food money from the cleaning lady. Fuck you."

Without warning, I drive my fist into Ted's gut. He doubles over, gasping for air. I shove him to the floor and deliver a swift kick, sending him sprawling against the wall.

"Listen up, you piece of shit," I growl. "Next time Giacomo sends us, you better have his fucking money. Or we won't be so nice. Got it?"

Ted nods frantically, curled up in a ball.

Ettore's already heading for the door, counting the cash. I follow him out, leaving Ted whimpering on the floor.

As we descend the stairs, I realize something odd. I felt nothing during that beatdown. Usually, there's a rush, a surge of adrenaline that leaves me feeling energized. But this time? Nothing. Just... emptiness.

Things are changing. I can feel it.

We reach the car, and Ettore's talking about something, but I'm not really listening. My mind is stuck on that moment in the room, trying to figure out why it felt so different.

"How much?" I ask, interrupting whatever Ettore was saying.

"Three grand," he replies. "Not bad for a junkie."

I nod absently as we climb into the car. Ettore keeps chattering away, but I tune him out, lost in my own thoughts.

Why didn't I get that familiar thrill from roughing up Ted? Was it because he was so pathetic, barely putting up a fight? Or is something changing inside me?

My mind drifts to Aura, waiting for me back at the apartment. Sweet, innocent Aura. She needs protection from men like me, from this whole fucked-up world. Maybe that's why I'm starting to see things differently. Maybe she's the key to a better life, one without all this violence and misery.

But does Aura even want that kind of future with me? Sure, we've got chemistry, and the sex is mind-blowing. But I'm the guy who killed her family. I'm also the one who saved her from a fate worse than death. That's a hell of a mindfuck to build a relationship on.

I think about Ted again, about the hatred I felt for him. It wasn't just because he's a junkie. No, what really got to me was imagining him abandoning his family for a fix. Choosing drugs over the people who loved and depended on him.

When did that become my line in the sand? I've seen plenty of men destroyed by their vices over the years. Watched them piss away everything for booze, gambling, pussy, whatever. But I've never felt such intense loathing before.

Something's changing in me, in how I see the world. I'm not sure what it means or where it's leading me. All I know is that it's happening, whether I like it or not.

One thing's for damn sure, though. I want to be with Aura. Right now, all I can think about is getting back to my apartment, feeling her body pressed against mine. Maybe she can help me make sense of all this confusion swirling around in my head.