Avond heard the sound of the door slamming and knew he had lost control. His gaze fell on the polished wooden floor, his heart still aching with anger and frustration—feelings he did not mean to throw at Celeste like that.
It was his burden to carry, and listening again to the words spoken, he regretted it.
Celeste did not belong in his world—the dark, bloodthirsty, unforgiving, treacherous, and cold world of the mafia, which ruled with an iron fist.
He couldn't blame Celeste for wanting to save her family, then realizing later she had agreed to be with an emotionally unstable man who could hurt her without a second thought. And, even more, to the son of one of the most powerful men in the country.
To the outside world, they were just an international transport company, but to those who knew, they were a dangerous organization—as dangerous as could be.
And he had blamed Celeste for it.
Avond had let Tiel get to him.
Again.
Avond cursed himself as he stepped closer to her door. Upon hearing her sobs, it was as if he had failed himself as a man. He had caused those tears. He wished he dared to knock and pull her into his arms. He wished he had the authority to tell her everything would be alright, to fix all of her problems, but he knew better than anyone he couldn't.
He was a part of it.
Defeated, Avond threw himself on the sofa in his living room and then stared at the black screen of his flat TV. He hadn't watched TV in so long that it should have been covered in dust, but it looked brand new.
It added to the burdens in his chest.
She was tired as well, after being attacked by three men in a love motel and then leaving without proper sleep. And yet, she went out of her way to clean his apartment, respecting his wishes to leave all the small things untouched. Yet the moment he felt a raw nerve touched, he didn't spare her.
He was no better than his brother.
"Oh my God," Avond said to himself, recognizing his incompetence and self-disappointment. Never had he felt so helpless in his life, and yet here he was.
In the middle of his pity fest, his phone rang. Avond took it out, grateful for the distraction from his spiraling emotions. Without a second thought, he answered the phone, ready to hear anything.
"Yes, hello," he said.
"Thank goodness! I was so sure you weren't going to answer. What happened to you?!" Lionel exclaimed on the other end. He sounded annoyed and worried at the same time. Avond shrugged, although he knew the other person couldn't see it.
"Just tell me, what's in the letter? Any new updates?"
"I wish it was about that. We found something… well… someone new," Lionel said, strength draining from his voice. Avond knew that tone.
"Alright, go on."
"A hobbyist fisherman found the dead body of a student by the river. All bones were broken, he was tossed from the dam above," Lionel explained.
"That's horrible. But what does that have anything to do with me?"
"It does, actually. It's more up your lane. There's a heavy dose of drugs in his body. A new drug we've just discovered," Lionel replied. Like a hound, Avond sat up straight, his well-rested body going into a familiar alert with newfound energy.
"You mean this is even more new than the new drugs?"
"So now even the prime minister hasn't heard about it yet."
"Where are you?"
"At the office," Lionel replied. Avond stood up, throwing on a new T-shirt before a black leather jacket. He looked at his face in the mirror, and not a single stain of dried blood was left on his skin. Celeste had taken good care of him.
"I'm on my way. See you in an hour," Avond said, knowing some adrenaline rush would snap him out of his misery. He glanced at Celeste's door, considering whether he should say goodbye, but he decided otherwise.
She probably doesn't want to see him anyway, Avond thought, leaving the apartment without another thought.
<>
Central Police HQ stood as intimidating as the judge's hammer itself. The wide parking area was half taken by black special forces enforcement cars, and about every one of them had a few bullet dents here and there. The number of policemen standing around would make anyone nervous, regardless of their innocence, and Avond didn't blame them.
Even though he knew they wouldn't arrest him, he felt the weight of their gazes, noticing who he was and what he had done. He ignored them and found Lionel in his private office, staring at pictures Avond knew would just be an addition to his long list of haunting memories.
"I'm here."
"Damn, you're faster than the change of a woman's mood," Lionel said.
"You mean, your wife?" Avond asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Lionel's lips stretched into a thin line, realizing maybe he had told Avond a little too much.
"Anyway, here it is. The boy."
Avond took the picture, looking into the dead green eyes of a boy with disheveled brown hair. His lips were blue, almost purple, with multiple bones broken. The autopsy showed he had died before the fall. OD.
"So, have you gotten a lead on who was with him while doing drugs?"
"No. That's what's so strange about it. No one saw him going up the dam, and we tried to look for any CCTV pictures, but… the culprit knew enough to step into blind spots… leaving no fingerprints behind," Lionel explained.
Avond whistled. "So, it was premeditated. He had to look around the area to know where, when, how… Can you give me his phone records?"
"I wish I had it. We only found his student ID but not his phone."
"Damn it," Avond said, leaning against the chair with his head tilted back. "Well then, what's his name? Do his parents know about it?"
"His name is Andreas Mikqiel. He comes from a suburban area, more like a small village somewhere at the border with his remaining parent. His mother was called just now. She didn't take the news very well."
"Any siblings?"
"Older sister passed away from a hit and run on the street." Lionel sighed. "I think the only thing left to do is just ask her what she knows about her son, although I doubt she knows anything. And then we can search his dorm room, ask his friends what they knew about him."
Avond nodded, slipping his phone out of his pocket. Joey's name appeared on the screen. Avond gave Lionel a look, then left the office to where he thought was safe to have a conversation—a small, private glass-speaking box.
"Good evening," Avond said, trying to hold a neutral tone and not one of annoyance.
"Good evening. Mr. Brightwell has grown impatient with your incompetency: no news, no messages, nothing. Mr. Everhart was seen well and intact, stepping out of his office at the center. Are you aware?" Joey asked his voice monotone yet threatening.
Avond sighed. "I was injured."
"You had a cut on your head; you didn't break your legs. But you don't have to worry about Mr. Everhart anymore. Mr. Brightwell has decided to send Tiel instead. Unlike you, he is not wasting any time," Joey said, cutting the line before Avond could respond. It stung.
Avond knew he didn't want to do it, and hated that he had to, but at the same time, having the job taken away from him had hurt him regardless. He cursed at his own emotions, burying his face in his palms. He no longer knew what he wanted. But he knew enough to realize Tiel couldn't go there with just his people.
No, he needed to make sure Tiel didn't go overboard.
"Is everything alright?" Lionel asked as Avond stepped out of the glass box. He shook his head.
"No, no. Duty calls. Can you go and take care of this for me?" Avond asked, as another call came through—this time from Wouter.
"Yes?" Avond asked, waving Lionel away as he left the police station.
"Do you know the amount of work you're abandoning right now? There are literally hundreds of people who aren't paying their debts, drug amounts increasing on the streets, new gambling dens in our territory, and illegal prostitution on the streets! Minors, too! And not to mention, you know whats going on and where!" Wouter exclaimed, reaching a level of panic Avond hadn't heard in a while.
"I was gone for a day!" Avond exclaimed in return.
"Well, you're never gone! There's only so much I can do, you know? It's not my kingdom!"
Avond didn't reply. Everything was falling apart.
Everything.