Beware the Devil

by Samantha Cade

  I close my eyes, waiting for the moment of impact. It comes. Fireworks explode violently behind my closed eyes. My mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood. My mind clears in the darkness. I need more of this.

  “Again,” I bark. “Earn your keep.”

  “No, I can’t-“

  “How much do you know?” I try to open my eyes. They’re already swelling, so I can only raise my lids halfway. “My family doesn’t like people who nose their way into our business. Do as you’re instructed, and I won’t hunt your family down and kill them. And don’t stop.”

  I breathe heavily. Blood trickles hotly down my face. I’m the embodiment of the monster I always knew I was. I close my eyes again. The blows come, and this time, as instructed, they don’t stop. I take several punches to the head and body, demanding more until the floating image of Molly recedes from my mind. Joe’s fist pummel into my stomach. I imagine my insides liquifying. The pain is transcendent, helping me rise above relentless emotions.

  There’s a loud banging at the door. I hear Madame Cherie yelling. That’s the last thing I remember before I black out.

  *

  Molly

  I’m stretched out on a twin bed in Greg and Grant’s guest room, feeling like a fretted after child. Greg’s rushing around the room, locating blankets, pillows, and towels. He’s making me nervous. I can’t stand his hectic movements. I’m overstimulated as it is, my mind spinning beyond my control. This is worse than any heartbreak I’ve ever experienced, because along with it is a deep fear that I could die soon. Yes, I’m sad over Sal. He lied to me, tricked me, he tied me up in his fucking dungeon, but I’m heartsick over the man I thought he was. He was arrogant and playful, hinting at something darker underneath. I didn’t understand just how dark.

  And it was all a lie. I can’t forget that. Still, it keeps slipping my mind.

  “Grant’s making pasta,” Greg says, sitting on the end of the bed. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”

  I press my lips together, nodding. “I don’t have any appetite.”

  “I understand.” Greg takes my hand in his. “When we get to Kansas, you’re going to feel much better, I promise. It’ll all be over, and you can start a new life. Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

  “Just one more thing. The wifi password.”

  When Greg finally leaves me alone, I fire up my laptop. Since Sal isn’t a few doors down from me anymore, I feel safe researching the Mariano family. Several pages of search results pop up instantaneously. I scan them, catching buzzwords like brutal, notorious, and crime family. There are articles about deep government corruptions, missing persons presumed dead at their hands, and mugshots of elegantly dressed mobsters dating back to the 1970’s. The more I read, the sicker I become. Franco and his progeny represent greed and a profound immorality. I’ve partied and dined with agents of pure evil. I took their dirty money and I thanked them for it.

  Aside from the heartbreak and fear, shame takes root in my belly. How happy I’d been to spend thousands of dollars on an outreach campaign, to have a fancy espresso machine in my office, to buy everyone new chairs, and take a bump in pay myself. How could I not have known that something was off? Maybe deep down I did, but I chose to ignore it in favor of getting what I want. From the beginning, I knew I was making a deal with the devil.

  Maybe I’m not as righteous as I thought I was. Why did I even start the center? To help people, or to fill the hole inside of me left by my brother? The confidence I’d built over the last few weeks topples around me, since it’s foundation was rotten to begin with.

  I log into the center’s bank account. There it is, Franco’s pending donation. My eyes dance over the string of zeroes. In the left corner of the screen, there’s a green button that reads Block Transaction.

  I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with righteous indignation. Who are you, Molly? An easy mark? A willing pawn in an evil game?

  I place my finger on the mousepad, hovering over that button.

  And I click.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Salvatore

  I stare into the black screen in front of me. I’ve sat motionless for two hours now, waiting for the camera to flicker to life so I can get a glimpse of her, even though I know that seeing her face will be more painful than my bruised ribs. I need to know that Molly’s still alive. Hopefully, she’s out of LA by now.

  Weeks ago, I had my IT guy remotely hack into Molly’s webcam. Not that I planned on spying on her. It was just an insurance policy in case I needed it, and I’m cashing it in now.

  The taste of blood is still in my mouth. Every time I clench my teeth, the iron assaults my tongue, along with a sharp pain in my jawbone. I can barely shift my position without feeling Joe’s beating throb like a bad flashback all over my body. I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, when I woke up in one of Madame Cherie’s beds. The kind madame gave me chicken broth to sip, then kicked me out and told me never to come back.

  Hell is real, and it’s all around me. I summoned these dark spirits myself. I put myself here. And I know why. The hatred I’ve always felt, I thought it was towards other people. Now I know who I really hate, who I want to punish, and that’s yours truly.

  The screen flashes suddenly, turning from black to grainy brightness. I steel myself before looking at her face. As her weary eyes scan the screen, she has no idea that I’m watching her, that I’m sharing her torment. She’s pale. Her face is a red mess of tears. There are bags under her eyes, indicating that she can’t sleep either. I’m not surprised. She’s terrified of what might happen to her. Selfishly, I hope that she also misses me.

  At least she’s alive. Behind her, I see a normal looking bedroom. Where are you, Molly? Are you in another state, another country? There’s an open duffel bag on the twin bed, and folded clothes scattered around it. She’s in the middle of packing. She’s still in the city.

  “Get the fuck out,” I tell her under my breath.

  Her attention is directed away from the screen by someone walking into the room. I sit up straight, despite the agonizing pain in my torso. Who is it?

  Molly greets this person with a smile. They enter the camera’s frame. I breathe with relief when I see it’s Greg. I suspected that she’d be staying with him. I should be grateful to Greg for helping her, but jealousy twists my insides. I wish it were my arms that she was running into.

  You don’t deserve her, I tell myself, bitterly. She’s the only good thing that’s ever happened in your sorry life, and you nearly destroyed her.

  There’s a banging at my front door. It’s urgent and loud, meaning it can only be mob business. I turn off the screen, and check through the peephole. Snake is standing there. His eyes are trained on the peephole. He knows I’m watching him. The blood runs hot in my veins. The hatred that’s consumed me is projected onto him. This is all Snake’s fault. If he hadn’t betrayed me by killing my father, I never would’ve used Molly to get back at him and the Mariano’s.

  “Open the door, Sal,” Snake says, leveling his dark eyes on the peephole.

  What’s the rush, bro? I wonder. Has Franco given you orders? Is it time for Cain to kill Abel?

  It occurs to me, that without Molly, I have nothing to lose. Maybe it’s time I finally taste revenge. What a cool, soothing ointment that would be to quell the fire burning just beneath my skin. I’m ready to bury the hatchet, along with Snake’s body. I grasp the gun at my hip, then train it on the door as I slowly open it.

  Snake rushes inside, glancing around with a harried look on his face. He finds me behind the door. His gaze narrows on the cold metal aimed at his head. I do a quick scan of his body. He’s strapped, like always, but he doesn’t move for his gun.

  “Put that away,” he says, coldly.

  A low, rumbling cackle escapes my mouth. I shake my head.

  His eyes move from the gun to my face. He gasps when he sees I’m bloody and bruised.

  “What the hell happen
ed to you?” he asks.

  “I’ve received my penance. I’ve been cleansed of all my sins.”

  He looks behind me to the nearly empty bottle of bourbon on the counter.

  “You’re not cleansed,” he says, sharply. “You’re drunk. Sal, put the gun down.”

  I point to a corner with the gun. “Over there. Face the wall.”

  Snake reluctantly raises his hands. As he walks over to the corner, I catch my reflection in the dark screen that had just displayed Molly’s angelic image. A bloody grimace distorts my swollen face, making me look demonic. The dark forces I’ve allowed to live inside of me have finally gained full control.

  “Stop with this bullshit,” Snake says. “We need to talk.”

  “I said, face the wall.” I grab the collar of Snake’s suit, pushing him into the corner. Grinding the barrel of the gun against the back of his neck, I allow him to feel the coldness of the metal. “Close your eyes, Snake. And when you get to hell, tell my father I’ll be coming to see him soon.”

  Metal grinds against itself chillingly as I cock the gun. I slide my finger over the trigger, savoring this moment. I’ve waited so long for this. Snake realizes I’m not fucking around. He begins to shake with fear.

  “I have orders,” he yells against the wall.

  “To slaughter me in my own home? That’s not very brotherly of you.”

  Snake whirls around. “Not to kill you. To kill Molly.”

  I go completely numb. The gun drops heavily to my side. If Franco’s issued those orders, then he knows that Molly knows. And she’s still in LA.

  “Then what are you waiting for, capo?” I glare at Snake with intense hatred. “Don’t you want to win employee of the month?”

  He looks to the gun in my hand, where my finger is still poised over the trigger. “Could you put that thing away?”

  I smile at him, turning the gun around in my hand. I’d still like to blow Snake’s head off, but now’s not the time. With Molly’s life on the line, I need him. After I place the gun on the table, he steps towards me.

  “You need to take Molly and get out of town,” he says. “Now.”

  “Or what, Snake? You’ll kill her? Do you get off on killing the people I care the most about?”

  He exhales sharply through his nose. “I didn’t have a choice with Monty. And I don’t now. You know that.”

  I grimace as I feel the knife turn in my back. He’s still making excuses, and putting Franco before me. I’m the one who saved him from the streets, and made him what he is today.

  “You have a choice,” I say, flatly. “You’re just too much of a pussy to make it.”

  He points at me accusingly. “You’ve lost your fucking mind. I can’t go against the boss. That’s suicide.”

  I turn away from him, folding my hands under my chin as my thoughts churn, forming a plan. Maybe I don’t need to roll over and die. Maybe I can accomplish what I set out to do. I can’t take out Franco alone. As much as I hate Snake, I need him.

  “Franco could’ve gotten anyone to kill Monty.” My hollow voice sounds disembodied as it rises up to my ears. I can’t look at Snake, so I focus on the screen. Is Molly still there? “He could’ve tapped any of his dozens of goons to hit Molly. But he got you, Snake. He knew it would hurt me the most if it was you pulling the trigger.”

  “You don’t have time to sit here and worry about Franco’s motives,” Snake says. He shoves his hands in his pockets with agitation. “I was the one who just had a gun to my head. Were you really going to kill me, Sal?”

  Yes. The word sounds in my head, echoing through my skull. I can still feel the gun in my hand, and that anxious, panicked feeling blooming inside of me, making me sweat. I can hear the voice saying, End his life. It feels me with intense fear, to know how close I was to killing Snake. For so long, I’ve itched to pull that trigger. But the reality of that is something I never could’ve imagined. I picture Snake dead on the ground, blood gushing from the wound in his head, and I realize, it’s not what I want at all.

  “Franco wants to destroy us,” I say. “We’re a threat to him. He’s getting old. His time is almost over. He wants to hold onto power until he’s buried in the ground.”

  Snake walks around me, planting himself in my field of vision. “You’re focusing on the wrong things. Go get Molly. Get on a plane. Get the fuck out of here. You should’ve done that after I came to you the first time.”

  “Do you know why he’s threatened by us, Snake? Because we have something he doesn’t; real loyalty. Not the fake shit built on threats and fear. You, me, Anthony, the beast, we’re brothers.”

  The room starts to spin. I close my eyes. For so long, I’ve staved off human emotions. I had no idea how strong they could be. I remember the four us, before any of us were made, how simple things were. We had each other’s backs, no question. Franco fucked all that up.

  “You expect me to believe that?” Snake says. “You hate me, remember. You nearly blew my fucking head off. You’re not my brother.”

  His tone is bitter, edged with a pain that I’m all too familiar with. We shouldn’t be at each other’s throats when the real enemy is clear.

  “Franco has to die,” I say, in almost a whisper. “It’s time for a new regime.”

  Snake shakes his head. “I always knew you were deranged. But you’re on another level now. You can’t just kill Franco. He has too many men behind him-“

  “Beast is with us,” I say, quickly. Snake stops talking, his face frozen in surprise. “That’s right. We’ve talked. Bruno sees what I see, that Franco is a fucking tyrant. My uncle wants you to kill Molly, a complete innocent. Who’s next?”

  Snake turns towards the door. “Leave town. This is your last warning.”

  I grab Snake’s arm. He instinctively puts his hand on his gun. “Look at me, Snake. Look into my eyes.” I stare at him, intensity building in my expression. I grab his hand, pressing my palm against his. “We are brothers. If you want to redeem yourself with me, help me take down Franco.”

  “Do you mean that?” Snake asks.

  I yank his hand, pulling him towards me. “I do,” I say, though I’m not sure. Will the anger return? Will my thoughts turn on me again, and cause me to kill my best friend? That doesn’t matter at this moment. All that matters is that Franco meets his end before he can kill Molly.

  Snake’s forehead relaxes. “I’ve never known you to forgive anyone.”

  “I haven’t,” I say through my teeth. “I’ve just shifted my anger to the person who deserves it. Here’s the deal. I’m not leaving. I’m going to stay and fight. You’ll have to make a choice; Franco, or me.” I clench my teeth, forcing myself to forget my pride so I can ask, “Who do you choose?”

  He’s silent for a few moments, his forehead scrunched as he considers this. Maybe he realizes that he doesn’t want to make an enemy of me. Or maybe the bond we formed all those years ago is still there. Finally, he places his hand on my back, and looks into my eyes.

  “I’m with you.”

  I’m broken to bits inside, but hearing those words closes up a small fissure. I know Snake is being sincere, but how long will this trust last? Will he still have my back when shit really starts going down?

  *

  Molly

  Under cover of darkness, and dressed in all black, I slip into the center. It’s eerily quiet and devoid of human life, a sharp contrast to the jubilantly busy days we’ve been having. I walk along the rows of computers. My throat tightens when I think of all the clients who will be left in the lurch, my talented and passionate counselors who will suddenly find themselves unemployed. This is the end of my grandfather’s legacy. He entrusted it with me, and I squandered it. I should’ve listened to the doubts that nagged me while starting the center. Instead, I thought they were a distraction and soldiered on. Now, my incompetence has put my life in danger.

  I stand in the break room, considering the espresso machine. Maybe there’s some way we can get it out of
here and sell it. It should be worth at least a grand. Not that it would make a dent in my debt. There’s the state funding I’ll have to return, and outstanding expenses I’ll have to pay for out of my own pocket. My inheritance was supposed to be an opportunity, the beginning of my life. When I get to Kansas, I’ll only have pennies to my name.

  My life is destroyed, all because of Sal. I sit down, resting my head in my hands while my heart aches. I miss him. Why? Am I really that stupid? I just can’t forget the man he showed me when he was vulnerable. I can’t forget the heat of our kisses, of our nights tangled together, the euphoria of being tied up and at his mercy. It couldn’t all have been fake, could it? Sal insisted it wasn’t. But I can’t trust anything he says, no matter how much I want to. He’s a master manipulator. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s so tangled in deception that it can’t be distinguished. Tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane, headed for a new life. But I know the devil will always haunt my dreams.

  I find a piece of white poster board and write CLOSED with a black permanent marker. After slipping it into the window, I hit send on a mass email that will inform my employees of the center’s closing. Once I hear the whoosh sound, I turn my phone off before the angry calls and texts can come in.

  For the last time, I lock the front doors of the center. It’s over. My dream flickered into reality for a brief moment before dying a brutal death. Heaving my shoulders, I turn away. There’s a black car with darkly tinted windows parked on the curb. Fear pricks at my skin, sharpening my focus. I tell myself it’s nothing, but I’m not convinced. I turn on my heels, stepping quickly down the block. Before I can cross the street, a wall of muscle appears in my path wearing dark clothing, a hood pulled over his head. Squinting in the darkness, I realize I know this man. It’s Bruno.

  “Evening, Molly,” Bruno says. “You’re out late. Do you need a ride?”

  He jerks his chin towards the car parked on the curb. My palms begin to sweat. My knees shake. My brain tries to visualize a path around this mountain of a man, but comes up empty. What does he want with me?