Blurry vision

Blurry vision
Rex

I couldn’t breathe when I got home.

My apartment felt smaller than usual. Like the walls were closing in on me. The air was thick and heavy. Each breath I took felt like I was drowning.

My chest kept tightening. Over and over. Like someone was squeezing my heart with their bare hands. I paced across the floor in circles. From the window to the door. From the door to the kitchen. From the kitchen back to the window.

My mind was running in circles too. Faster than my feet. Spinning out of control like a car on ice.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? What were my options? Run? Pack a bag and disappear in the middle of the night? Catch a bus to another state? Change my name and start over?

But even as I thought it, I knew the truth. There was no place on this planet where Dante wouldn’t find me. He had money. He had connections. He had people everywhere. 

Maybe I should tell the captain? 

For just a second, that thought gave me hope.

Maybe he could protect me. Maybe he could get me into witness protection. Maybe he could make this nightmare go away.

But then reality hit me. 

The captain couldn’t protect me. Not from Dante. Not from a man who seemed completely untouchable. 

I was spiraling. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

That’s when my phone rang.

Dante.

For a moment I just stared at his name. My finger hovered over the answer button. Part of me wanted to throw the phone across the room. Smash it against the wall. Pretend this wasn’t happening.

But I knew that would only make things worse.

I answered on the fourth ring.

“Meet me,” he said. 

“When?” I asked. 

“Now,” he said simply.

Before I could think about it, before I could talk myself out of it, I heard myself agreeing. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

When the call hung up, I received a text message containing the location where I would be meeting him. 

I stood there for a moment holding my phone. 

The address he gave me led to a part of town I’d never been to before. The building was nothing special from the outside. It looked like a suit shop. 

For one stupid second, I almost convinced myself this was nothing. Maybe Dante just wanted to buy me a suit. Maybe this was his way of showing he didn’t hold grudges. Maybe everything would be okay.

But then I saw him through the window. Standing inside near the counter. Waiting for me.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. A bell chimed when the door opened. 

Seeing me enter, he didn’t say anything, just stared at me. He guided me toward the back of the store. 

“Nice place,” I said, trying to break the tension. 

“Oh, this isn’t the real place,” Dante said. “This is just the front.”

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

Behind what looked like a solid wall panel, there was a hidden door. Behind the door, a set of stairs going down. 

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t a suit shop at all.

The stairs led to something that looked like it came out of a movie. A secret club. 

The air was thick with cigarette smoke. Music played low but was drowned in the sound of laughter and clinking glasses.

Men and women sat in expensive clothes talking casually. I could hear a bit of their conversation. It was mostly about drugs, money, crime. 

Like it was nothing. Like it was a normal dinner conversation.

My stomach twisted into knots. They weren’t even trying to hide it. There was no code language. Just open discussion of illegal activities.

Dante guided me to a corner table. Away from the main crowd but close enough that I could hear everything.

That’s when one of the men near the center of the room stood up. He looked to be in his late forties: 

He clapped his hands for attention. The room gradually got quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “Tonight we have something special. We’re welcoming a new member.”

Everyone cheered. Clapping and whistling and raising their glasses. 

I sat there frozen, mainly watching and waiting. My heart was pounding again.

The man smiled and raised his own glass high.

“Please join me in welcoming Castelle Fernando Mandala.”

I almost rose to my feet in shock.

Castelle Fernando. That was my captain’s full name. The name I’d seen on official documents. 

And Mandala. The family name that Dante had been at war with. The family he’d been trying to destroy.

“No,” I whispered. I was shaking my head without realizing it.

But then I saw him.

He was walking into the room so casually. My boss. The man I’d been reporting to for months.

He was smiling. Laughing. Shaking hands with these criminals like they were old friends. Like he belonged here. Like he grew up in crime.

And maybe he did.

I whipped around to face Dante. 

“That’s him,” I said. “That’s my captain.”

Dante’s smile got wider. “I know.”

“But that’s the name,” I continued. My words were coming out fast and confused. “Mandala. That’s the family you’ve been fighting. The family you’ve been at war with.”

“Yes,” Dante said simply. “It is. Your dear captain,” he said softly. “He’s one of them. Has been all along.”

My heart felt like it had stopped beating. “No. That’s impossible.”

“You’ve been working for the cops,” Dante continued. “But really, you’ve been working for the Mandalas. The same people I hate. The same people I want to see buried in the ground.”

He leaned closer. Close enough that I could smell his perfume.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to kill you, Rex? How many times have I thought about putting a bullet in your head?”

My throat closed up. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

“But I’m holding back,” he whispered. His breath was warm against my ear.

His hand found mine on the table. His fingers were warm and strong.

“I’ll use you,” he said. “But kill you? Not yet. You’re worth more to me alive.”

My hands were trembling. 

“No,” I said. Shaking my head again. “There’s no way. The captain couldn’t be juggling both sides.”

Dante chuckled. The sound was warm and amused and completely terrifying.

“Is he though? Really think about it, Rex. The police have been breathing down everyone’s necks for months. But somehow, the Mandalas get away with everything.”

He gestured toward the center of the room where my captain was now drinking and laughing with known criminals.

“Do you know why that happens? Because your captain is a Mandala. Always has been. A fake cop.”

I turned back to look at the man I’d trusted. The man I’d reported to. The man I’d thought was one of the good guys.

“Everything you’ve told him,” Dante said quietly, “he’s passed along to his real family. Every piece of information you gathered. Every detail about my organization. Every plan to bring me down.”

The room was spinning. My vision was getting blurry.