I tried to get my breathing under control, but I was still panting like a locomotive ready to start moving. My heavy breath echoed throughout the corridor. I had to pull myself together, but controlling my body was far more difficult than controlling my mind.

Holding the gun with both hands, I pressed it closer to my body to prevent it from peeking out before me, announcing my arrival, and peered inside the apartment. The door was slightly ajar, giving me a narrow slit to see through. It was enough for me to realize that we were too late.

"Damn..." I mumbled, knowing Malu wouldn't be pleased.

Carefully, I pushed the door open, continuing to aim my gun down the hallway. My gaze fell upon a body sprawled out on the floor – Mari lay directly in front of the entrance with a bullet in her head. Her face looked surprised, as if she didn't understand what had happened. Likely, that was the case: she opened the door and took a bullet to the forehead. Her life had been cut short because of our affairs. Completely innocent, she was caught in the crossfire.

So, Alex wasn't lying about this, despite my doubts about his sincerity. At first, I thought he was planning to scam us for money.

I continued on, checking the bathroom and then the kitchen. I went through one small room, then another, but found no one. It seemed they didn't bother to wait for us - just killed and left the body as a warning. Or perhaps they did it as a warm-up before they really started on us. Which meant that my home could be next.

By the time I exited the room, Malu was already there. He stood in the apartment's hallway, staring at the body. Pale as a corpse, he silently gazed at the body before him.

"Malu?" I softly called out, not realizing I was pointing my gun at him. I was aiming because I was afraid of him, an unstable guy who might snap and attack me at any moment.

He didn't respond. He didn't react at all. He slowly walked over to the wall, leaning against it before sliding down to sit on the floor. With his last bit of strength, he pulled Mari closer and placed her head on his lap. A faint smile of a madman played on his face.

"I'm back, just like I promised," he whispered, stroking her hair. As if he expected her to wake up any moment, smile at him, and say, "Good morning, Matvey."

But she won't wake up. This isn't a fairy-tale world where freaking ponies gallop around and shit fruit rainbows, as he once said. Our mistakes come at a high price here. We went all in, betting everything. And now we were paying the price.

I walked over and stood in front of him, but Malu seemed oblivious to everything else. He was in his own little world with his sister. He looked at her face, smiling and crying like a little child. His incoherent mumblings echoed monotonously around the apartment, and only by standing next to him could you make out what he was saying.

"I'm back. I'm so glad to see you again, Mari... So glad to see you before the end... I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy... You'll wait for me there, right? We'll be together again, just as we always dreamed..."

"Malu, we need to leave," I insisted.

"Damn it... Damn it... I'm so sorry..." He was stroking her head, like a beloved daughter who had merely fallen asleep on his lap, and he was crying. "I'm so sorry, Mari, forgive me... forgive me... it should have been me in your place..." He sobbed. "If Alex had gunned me down, they wouldn't have touched you. And you two would have been happy and lived on... but we killed him..."

"Malu!" I called out to him louder.

"I was thinking only about myself again..." He didn't notice me anymore. "Forgive me, Mari, it's all because of me. Again... Alex was right... I should have given my life instead of yours... Forgive me... forgive me for everything... for never giving you what you deserved..."

His voice became quieter and quieter, fading along with his life. Towards the end, Malu even seemed at peace, as if he had found his answer.

"Forgive me, I love you so much... Wait for me, and I'll be with you soon, don't be afraid... we'll be together..."

He fell silent. I stood over him, looking at the top of his head - he had bent as if dozing off over his sleeping sister. But he wasn't dead. Somehow, he was still alive, even though he should have bled out long ago. People sometimes surprise with their resilience.

"It's your fault..." he mumbled. "You should have let Alex kill me."

"What are you talking about?" I frowned, and he lifted his tearful, madness-filled eyes to me. It was anyone but Malu in front of me.

"You're to blame for her death... You should have killed me..." he hissed. "But now it's my turn to go. She's waiting for me."

"What are you..."

But before I could finish, his hand darted behind his back, and he quickly pulled out...

I shot him straight in the forehead. His brains splattered against the wall. Malu's head jerked back, hitting the wall, and limply hung over his sister's head. Little red droplets dripped onto her face. His hand was making a "gun" gesture - two extended fingers.

He didn't want to wait for his death and decided to preemptively follow his sister. He knew I wouldn't agree to put him down...

Bastard...

I quickly searched his pockets, then pulled out the phone that should have Arrow's number in it and the flash drive he needed. We'll be using a "phone a friend" lifeline very soon.

In the meantime, it was time to leave. The neighbors must have heard the gunshot, and who knows who might decide to call the police.

I cast a final glance at the brother and sister and left, closing the door behind me.

I ran down the stairs and burst out of the entrance, not looking around and only burying my head deeper into my hood. Having approached the car, I started it and drove off without the lights. Only when I was about two hundred meters away from Malu's apartment did I turn them on and immediately steered onto the back roads, further away from the main street.

Funny thing. We cry when someone close to us dies, and we hate the murderer. But then, without hesitation, we take the lives of others, seeing nothing wrong in it and feeling justified. Perhaps we deserve all of this to some extent.

Of course, one could say that it's our job to kill and rob. That it's their job - to protect and to kill us. The one who fails at their job dies. But that's hardly a consolation to the deceased's relatives.

And certainly, others shouldn't have to pay for our actions.

I was driving through the night city, trying to contact Syringa over the radio, but she wasn't responding. In theory, the signal should've reached her, but for some reason, she wasn't answering. Well... later. Now I need to get home and, if anyone's there, get them out. And if possible, grab the Glock hidden under my bed with two full magazines. These were the most important things now.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

I'll figure out what to do later, but I definitely need the money anyway. No matter how things turn out, I'll have to meet with Arrow. Though, I have no idea how that meeting will end for me.

While I was getting home, I had time to check myself. First and foremost, my bulletproof vest. I felt the spot where the bullet hit and pulled out... a lighter. With a hole straight through it. The very same metal Zippo that Malu gave me in the sewers to find a draft, which I had stashed in my breast pocket.

I carefully unzipped my down jacket and felt the bulletproof vest. It was entirely made of fabric, without plates or inserts. There, I found the bullet. It had managed, besides piercing the lighter, to make a hole in the vest, too. And even after that, it had slightly entered my body - I could feel the crust of dried blood on my skin. If not for the lighter, I would have been seriously injured or even dead. But I'm alive... while Alex, Mari, and Malu are not. I didn't feel any joy about being so resilient.

And then there was Syringa - everything wasn't all that simple with her either. But first, I had to find her.

Soon, the familiar ghetto street where I had lived for the past few years appeared in the headlights. I didn't drive down my street, instead turning onto a parallel road where the houses backing onto ours were located. Identical boxes that were indistinguishable from each other except for their color. These chain-link fences, dried-out lawns, cracked sidewalks - I was as happy to see them as I was unhappy.

I left the car opposite one of the houses, whose backyard adjoined ours. I entered the yard, pulling out my gun. Just a regular PR - Razovsky's Pistol, chambered for a seven-sixty-two by ten rounds. It only had five rounds left, but it was still better than nothing. Our backyards were separated by a low wooden fence, which could probably be knocked down with a kick. But I still climbed over it, albeit with difficulty. And the fence itself creaked as if it was about to break.

The light was on just in the living room. I found out whether that was good or bad only when I glanced out of the corner of my eye into the window. My mother was sitting on the couch, staring blankly somewhere.

My heart chilled as if anticipating the worst, but I didn't succumb to panic. There would be time to worry later. I circled the house, reached the main entrance, and checked the street for any out-of-place vehicles. No one, at least I didn't see anyone. So now it was time to get my mother out of here, as well as everyone else who was in the house.

I didn't have a key, so I just knocked. Waiting for a bit, I knocked again.

No one opened the door for me.

And again, this chilling sensation, as if something was happening. So, without further ado, I just went to my room's window. I grabbed my gun by the barrel and broke the glass in the frame, first in one, then in the second, inner one. Reaching inside, I opened the latch, swung open the window, letting the cold air into the room, and climbed in.

The first thing I did was immediately drop to my knees and feel under the bed, from where I pulled out a Glock. Now, at least, I felt much safer, having not five but fifty-one rounds. I tucked my PR into the back of my pants and, holding the Glock more comfortably, left the room. I didn't even step out - I practically drifted. I tried to move as quietly as I could, even though the broken glass had already alerted everyone to my arrival.

My Mom was indeed sitting on the couch, staring blankly at a single spot. She sat, not moving, as if looking at something.

And that was it; it seemed like there was no one else.

"Mom?" I called her quietly. No reaction. "Mom?"

I even got worried - did she happen to die? Sometimes, when a person dies, they remain in a position that makes you think they are still alive.

"Mom, it's me, Nurdauleth," I called her quietly.

And finally, she responded. She turned slightly to the side, as if trying to hear me better, which made me feel relief. At least I now knew that my mother was alive. But the anxiety did not go away because now I wanted to find out the reason for her sluggishness. And my assumptions did not please me at all.

"Mom, did something happen to Nataliel?" I asked gently, almost tenderly, so as not to accidentally provoke her into a fit of hysteria, which would have been entirely out of place now.

"No, she's fine. She's alive. For now," Mom replied hoarsely, without turning around.

"Then what happened? Is something wrong with Natali?"

"No... she's fine too..."

"Then what happened?"

She was silent. She didn't answer because she knew - I realized everything too. It's useless to hide the obvious and try to deceive when everything is clear.

I still had the gun in my hands. After thinking a bit, I tucked it in my pocket so as not to frighten her unnecessarily.

"Mom, we need to leave."

"Natali told us everything," she quietly informed me. "She told us what you've been up to."

"She told you?"

The first question I wanted to ask was - why? Why did she spill what I'm involved in, especially to our parents? What was she thinking?! But there was no point in figuring this out now. What would I achieve, except for lost time? Nothing. We'll figure out what Natali was thinking later. But for now, I just have to get Mom out of here before Arrow's friends come to visit us.

So, I walked around the couch where Mom was sitting and took her by the hand.

"We need to leave," I repeated insistently.

"What have you done, Nurdauleth..." she muttered.

"It doesn't matter, Mom. We just need to go."

"We didn't raise you to be like this. What's happening to you?"

I felt a sense of déjà vu. Very strongly. Unsurprising, honestly, considering who my mother and sisters are. It's obvious why I felt so - they behave similarly in similar situations. I wouldn't be surprised if Mom now gives me similar lectures about how ungrateful I am. And I would be glad to listen, only if it helps to get her out of the house.

"It doesn't matter how I was raised. It doesn't matter what you put into me and what you wanted. What's done can't be undone, but we can fix what hasn't happened yet. So don't make me forcibly take you out of the house," I gently pulled her hand, and for the first time she looked at me. She stared with the eyes of someone who couldn't recognize the person standing before her.

"Forcibly?" she muttered, looking at me. Now, her gaze held pain. She slowly got up, but instead of making my task easier, she took two steps away from me, withdrawing her hand from mine. "You want to force me out of my own house?"

"Listen..."

"Do you think you can just come home and tell everyone what to do?"

"It doesn't matter what I can or can't do. Just do as you're asked, please, and then I'll personally listen to everything you want to tell me. Just don't argue with me now."

"Natali said you got into trouble because of Nataliel. She said you committed a crime, and she couldn't stop you. She said you're going to do something terrible..."

"She's exaggerating."

"Natali was hysterical. I've never seen my daughter like this, Nurdauleth. What have you done to her?!" she pointed at me.

"So it's my fault, is that it?" I frowned. To say that these words made me feel twice as bad would be an understatement. "Alright, fine, I'm to blame. And I'll answer for everything, but right now, come with me."

"Or what?" she asked hoarsely. "Will you take me by force? Drag your mother if I refuse?"

"I hope you'll do it on your own."

A silence fell. Brief.

"What have you turned into..." she sighed.

"That doesn't matter! Come here, damn it!"

But she shook her head and slowly backed away.

This feeling of contradiction. When you're angry at someone, you stop making the right decisions and start acting out of principle - anything but what your object of anger says.

Such arguing could continue for a long time, so there was no point in coddling her anymore. I strode over to my mother, who suddenly winced as if expecting me to hit her, and took her by the hand. She flinched and shrunk back even more, like a puppy that's constantly beaten and cowers in fear in the corner.

A pain tugged at my heart. I got the feeling that the more effort I put in for my family's sake, the further away I became from them.

"Please, Mom, I love you and just want to get you out of here," I said very quietly and gently, to not further aggravate the situation. "Just come with me, and I swear, once we leave the house, I'll reply to any question you have. Whatever you ask, I'll give you an honest answer."

Or I'll lie for the sake of our family. Most likely, I'll lie to preserve our already fragile family life.

My own mother looked at me with some kind of fear, and I felt curious about what Natali had told her. Did she tell her about my raids and shootouts? I can guess that against the backdrop of my sister's condition and the news of the robbery that Natali attributed to my activities, her nerves might have given in. It happens, people break, and then it's very easy to shake out anything from them.

I suspect that's exactly what my father did. After all, he must have been wondering where I was disappearing to, especially now when everything is bad. Father is not a fool - he understands everything, but where is he?

Well, it doesn't matter. Right now, I could start pulling her out of the house, but it would take much more time than if she agreed. So, I took a different approach.

"Please, let's just go. We'll visit Nataliel, she'll be happy to see us all together. On the way, I'll tell you everything, okay?"

I didn't get an answer.

When you work in this business, you learn to pay attention to things you wouldn't have noticed before. I had been in street fights, shootouts, and raids on others. I've seen what persecutions and intimidations look like.

And when you know the ins and outs, like it or not, you'll notice some things you wouldn't have before. For instance, a car that had stopped right by our house on our side.

Not our car.