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Chapter 3 First Meeting?

  • The whites of Justin's eyes contrast sharply with the pitch-black iris. The depth resembles that of a black hole in space, an air of eeriness and unsettling coldness emanating from his gaze. Dark and cold. There is a dead quality to his eyes as if the soul has long departed and left this man in his stead, a monster to do the bidding of the dark force.
  • "Take them down," Justin orders. He's, as expected, covered by a sniper.
  • There are many snipers in the criminal underworld. But only two can be classified as the best of the best and Justin owns one of them.
  • Blaise moves into a prone position, looking through his night-vision scope. He flicks to his infrared.
  • Two hostiles in the sedan; one of them steps out of the vehicle, bag in hand and walks toward the blonde, meeting halfway. Blaise flicks to night vision. He sees Justin flicking his cigarette; that's his mark.
  • He aims down the scope. On the point of firing, he remembers the great big silencer — a rookery mistake. He slides it on and re-aims. He checks the wind speed and the distance and adjusts accordingly. Then a thud as he turns the safety off and pulls the trigger... they never saw it coming.
  • Justin watches the moment play out in slow motion.
  • The first bullet hits the bag man. It enters through the eye socket. Some brain matter explodes from the back of his skull and splatters on the black vehicle. The body slumps to the ground. The remaining eye remains open, staring blankly at the blonde guy.
  • His eyes are as wide as they can stretch as his senses sharpen with adrenaline, his eyes and ears straining for clues as to where the gunshot had originated. It takes him a second to realize it's a sniper, a precious second that costs his young life.
  • The team is caught by surprise. The little confidence that they have shatters like shards of glass as the second bullet as silent as the first hits the blonde guy in the chest, propelling him backwards.
  • He falls to the ground in a bloody heap. For a few seconds, he looks up at the moon as if trying to admire it one last time. Then the black waves fold over him.
  • When the man sitting in the sedan sees his partner go down, he tries to make a quick getaway.
  • Blaise, with deadly aim, fires another shot and blows the driver's brains over the windshield. No one wastes bullets anymore. There is no shooting in the air or wild shots in the dark. Each violent boom is a death, straight to the head or heart, with no chances to miss.
  • More silent gunshots come, thick like winter hail. The tin projectiles cutting through the frozen air. Each one rips into their bodies, their bones, spilling blood with equal unfeeling.
  • The girl grabs the duffle bag out of the dead blonde's hand and sprints across the street. Stupid mistake when she has no idea where the gunshots are coming from. The last shot whizzes through the air and hits the girl dead in the chest, throwing her on her back.
  • Where there had been smooth skin is torn muscle and blood. The girl lays still, her skin so pale as to make the oozing blood redder. Then, like a ghost, she slips into a coma with death not far away.
  • There was a time perhaps when the one pulling the trigger might have felt something, remorse, guilt, compassion. But not anymore.
  • The silence returns far more thickly than it was before the shots as if everything is collectively holding its breath.
  • The group was part of Min-Hyuk's little circle and Justin is going to take out every last one of them.
  • Min-Hyuk is the first traitor Justin has discovered in his syndicate ever since he took over ten years ago. So he's going to make an art form of it and set an example for future wanna be traitors. He's going to take down every one of Min-Hyunk's minors from every side, pick their little lives apart until they are in ruins. It doesn't matter whether it's their first time on the job, men, women, old, rich, poor, teenagers or even babies. They are all going to pay for the sins of their employer.
  • That is his modus operandi. Call him a monster if you wish. But nobody joins a gang without being a lost soul first. No one goes to a monster for guidance unless it's their only option. He's the predator of predators.
  • The mafia is filled with men with no moral campus. Playing fair is for idiots.
  • And so Justin sits for another hour. Now all he has to do is wait for Min-Hyuk to get the call informing him the last of his minors are dead. That will expedite his meeting with the buyer trying to get their hands on Justin's shipment routine information.
  • The clock strikes midnight, and on cue, the lights go on in the house before which Justin is parked. From the shattered window he sees movement.
  • It's several minutes before Ahn Min-Hyuk emerges, ashen-faced. Without paying heed to his surroundings, he gets into his car and quickly drives off.
  • Justin purses his mouth in a self-satisfied smirk and follows close behind.
  • Justin's head rocks back against the seat.
  • Another 'stakeout', another city. Fortunate for him he's got the heart of a hunter and the patience of a fisherman.
  • He tailed Min-Hyuk to another city, all night. Hyuk has checked himself into one of the grand hotels in the middle of the busy city and hasn't come out since. He has chosen the busiest street to meet with the buyer knowing for a fact his former employer will not engage in a bloody gunfight in the middle of the busy street.
  • It would have been a lot easier for Justin to just shoot him — maybe torture him a little before killing him — back at that desolate hideout. But deep in his cold, hard, heart, he knows someone else is working with Min-Hyuk. This is the third time in six months he'd discovered a spy — that's one too many for Justin's liking.
  • There's no way Hyuk can pull it off on his own. He isn't smart enough. Even if he is smart, it would be impossible for just one man to be able to steal from him. His mafia is airtight. Nothing gets in and nothing stuck. He knows nobody in their right minds would even attempt to move in on his syndicate without an inside man guiding their steps — not even Gray's mafia.
  • Min-Hyuk and the other two were the guides; but who is the mastermind? Justin needs that information.
  • Killing all of Min-Hyuk's lackeys to isolate him, cut his information flow and push him to contact the one behind him, is all part of Justin's plan. And he'll be there waiting for them.
  • He has been slacking off recently and they all think he has gone soft. Maybe they have forgotten, but Justin is going to remind them...
  • All of them. He's going to send a message to whomever it may concern.
  • Even if it means sitting here and counting every fucking car that passes by, he will, because he believes in killing mosquitos with axes.
  • He wants to know who the buyer is. Which family is bold enough to want his shipment?
  • The Hunt family are the best-known drug dealers in the criminal underworld. They manufacture and sell the best drugs on the market. They do engage in other businesses.
  • But drugs are Justin's speciality, among other things.
  • Justin lays his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, breathing in deeply then exhaling. Calming his anxious nerves.
  • There's static before a voice comes through his earpiece.
  • "We have movement," Ian says looking through his binoculars. "Aside from Min-Hyuk, there are two others in the room." There's a pause before he speaks again. "Drake Wilson. The other is... Snake. Wilson's right hand."
  • Justin hums in thought, his eyes still closed shut. 'What is the second son of the Wilson family doing here?'
  • The Wilson family is one of the loyalist families in his mafia. But he knows better than to trust anyone. They are only in for the profit after all.
  • "Can you get in on their conversation? I need to know what they are talking about."
  • "No. There's interference. They must have anticipated us...wait a second...there's somebody else in the room." Ian adjusts the scope on his binoculars to get a better look. But all he can see is the silhouette of a tall, sturdy, muscular figure standing in the shadow at the farthest corner of the room. "Dammit, I can't get a better view."
  • "It must be him, sir. The man behind Minhyuk."
  • "Do we go in?" though they needn't ask.
  • Justin slowly opens his eyes. He gazes up at the grand hotel. His excited nerves kick in once more. This is the bit he lives for, the end of the chase, the violence, the blood, the pain. It has been a while since he had to put his murder game down.
  • He reaches for the glove compartment and pulls out a semiautomatic pistol and a silencer. He presses the magazine release, checks the magazine then slides it back in before grabbing the silencer and screwing it shut. He holsters the weapon in the waistband of his jeans, concealing it with his shirt.
  • His hand on the door handle. He opens the door. With one foot out. The front passenger door suddenly opens and closes just as abruptly.
  • Justin tenses. Pausing in his tracks.
  • Human presence doesn't always have to be seen to be felt. It's like electricity that weights the air. He feels that weight and withdraws his foot, and sits back in his seat. His hand stealthily reaches behind, his fingers finding the grip of the gun, ready for action.
  • Swiftly, he turns his head toward the intruder, only to be halted once more.
  • From the passenger seat peers a baby-faced, doe-eyed girl of no more than eighteen. Like the purest doe in the forest. From the small and sweet face comes the most expressive, brilliant electric blue eyes, expelling the air out of his lungs. Breath evaporates from his chest. His heart thumps erratically. His mouth goes dry.