The hitman turned the key in the ignition. “Soon.” And just like that, the locks clicked. “Get the fuck out.”
Don stepped into the drizzle without a word. I followed, chest tight, jacket pulled close. The sedan peeled away, taillights fading. We stood in silence for a long moment.
“This is some crazy shit, man,” I muttered.
His eyes stayed fixed on the end of the alley, like he could already see Nyce’s body lying there. “Everything I’ve lost… Princess, the race, my influence… it all starts and ends with him,” he said quietly.
I looked at him sideways. “You ever stop to think that Princess will not be yours? Face it, Don. Our deal with that is pretty much done.”
He spun around and pointed a finger at me, snarling his lip. “Then I guess you want the whole goddamn city to know about your prostitutes, Mr. Preacher? Huh? You want word getting out about your extramarital affairs? Gambling? All your bullshit?!”
I stared at him, heart pounding, stomach twisted. “Man, you’ve lost it. I got my own sins to answer for, but at least I know when to fold.”
Don curled his lip. “Then fold. Go beg God for redemption if that’s what you want.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And what about you?”
His voice was ice. “I don’t need redemption.”
I held his stare for a second longer. Then I shook my head slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on me like a coffin lid. “May God have mercy on our souls.”
He smirked. “Hopefully.”
And with that, he walked off into the night while I stood there in the rain, knowing damn well… this wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of something much darker.
