33

[ARTEMY]
Brayden’s frustration grew evident as he paced the room like a caged animal, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. I sat behind my table, crossing my arms over my chest, observing the scene unfold. Leon, worn out and exhausted, reclined on the couch with his eyes shut tight.
“I can’t believe this. How haven’t we found that bastard yet?” Brayden spat angrily.
Leon muttered under his breath, “He’s good. Really damn good. The bastard knows how to disappear.”
I had to admit Leon was right. My team had been tirelessly searching for the traitor for days, utilizing the best tracking methods available, yet we were still empty-handed. I turned my head from side to side, trying to release the tension in my neck. Frustrated, I massaged my forehead and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table.
“You’re right. He’s undoubtedly skilled. But he can’t hide forever,” I said.
“The longer it takes to find him, the more havoc he wreaks!” Brayden snapped back.
“We will find him,” I replied, my calm exterior masking the raging fury within. The anger was indescribable. I was determined to make him pay, and he was fortunate I hadn’t caught up with him yet. He had been granted a few extra days of life.
Just as Leon opened his eyes, ready to say something, the door swung open, slamming against the wall. Avim rushed into the room, panting heavily with shock etched across his widened eyes and an angry twist to his face. We all stared at him, surprised by his agitated state, myself included.
Standing up and pushing my chair away, I observed Avim, sensing the tension radiating from him. His chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, and his red face glistened with sweat. Veins bulged in his forehead and neck, revealing the intensity of his emotions.
“He’s dead. That son of a bitch is dead,” Avim snarled, gasping for air.
Confusion wrinkled my forehead, and I tilted my head inquisitively. Avim swallowed hard, preparing to answer the questions that lingered unspoken in the room. His response struck me like a bullet to the heart.
“Herman is dead,” he uttered.
“What did you say?” I questioned, each word enunciated with deliberate precision.
“Herman is dead.”
“Fuck,” Brayden growled.
A surge of rage surged through me like the deep currents of the ocean. It erupted from within, fierce and destructive like flowing magma. Every fiber of my being trembled with its intensity.
Herman was no more.
His life had been extinguished, and it was not my doing.
I had been denied my revenge.
A hollow emptiness consumed me as the rage devoured my soul. The heat within me grew unbearable, scorching my skin and suffocating my senses. My vision blurred with fury, and the only image I could see was my mother’s lifeless eyes.
My muscles tensed, my neck stiffened, and my back arched as I unleashed a roar of frustration. “Damn it!” I cried out, leaning forward and sweeping everything off the table, sending shards of broken glass flying. With a forceful kick, I sent my chair crashing into the wall, then began pacing back and forth.
He was supposed to pay with his life! His blood was meant to stain my hands! I had vowed to avenge my mother.
But now…
Every muscle in my body twitched, itched, and burned with an intense fire.
My hands clenched into tight fists, the pressure causing my knuckles to ache and my hands to gradually go numb. Gripping my own hair tightly, I pulled at it in frustration.
“He was mine to kill!” I bellowed before launching a powerful punch at the wall, leaving a deep hole in the drywall. The impact caused the paint to peel off, leaving my bleeding fist exposed.
A hand landed on my back, and I swiftly spun around, instinctively wrapping my fingers around the person’s neck. It was Brayden, looking at me impassively, patiently waiting for me to regain control. Though I tightened my grip slightly, his expression remained unchanged.
With a snarl, I released his neck and forcefully pushed him away. He stumbled backward but quickly regained his balance.
“Don’t you dare touch me. I won’t be held accountable for what I might do,” I growled, taking a menacing step toward him.
Brayden straightened his posture, then glanced at Leon and Avim, nodding toward the door. They left without a single glance back. As the door slammed shut, I slumped against the table, drained by the overwhelming fury consuming me.
The rage within me was too much to bear. I needed to find an outlet for it before I completely lost control.
Removing my suit jacket and loosening my tie, I unbuttoned my collar, struggling to catch my breath. With a shaky hand, I ran it over my face, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.
Gazing down at my hands, I gradually balled them into tight fists, feeling the satisfying crackle of my knuckles. With a frustrated sigh, I made my way towards the door, swinging it wide open.
The hallway stretched out before me, devoid of any signs of life, as my heavy footsteps resounded with each stride down the stairs towards the gym. My focus fixated on the row of punching bags. Without hesitation, I unleashed a powerful blow upon one of them, the force of my bare knuckles meeting its surface with a resounding crack.
Time became a blur as I relentlessly attacked the bag, throwing punches and kicks with ferocious intensity. Each strike was accompanied by a primal roar, an outpouring of pent-up anger. Blood dripped from my battered knuckles, the skin torn and raw, and my fingers throbbed with a searing pain. Yet, I persisted.
The pain. It served as a twisted solace. I craved it.
The creak of the door being opened reached my ears, causing me to freeze mid-swing. My hand pressed against the punching bag, halting its momentum just before it could collide with me. Grimacing through clenched teeth, I turned to face the intruder.
Brayden strode forward with deliberate slowness, his presence commanding attention. I studied him intently, my unwavering gaze tracking his every movement.
Coming to a stop a few feet away, a perplexed frown formed on my brow. Brayden shed his suit jacket, casually tossing it to the ground, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing a tapestry of tattoos adorning his arms. His eyes never left mine as he finished his preparations, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white shirt. After stretching his neck, he took two steps closer before pausing.
Brayden widened his stance, bracing himself. He cracked his knuckles before pointing at me, then emphatically motioning to his own chest. “Come at me,” he commanded, his voice icy and unyielding.
My eyes widened slightly as fury surged within me. Letting out a thunderous roar, I lunged forward, a crimson haze of anger clouding my vision as I initiated the first strike.
We fought. Exchanging blows. Kicking and grappling like untamed beasts. Brayden showed no mercy, retaliating with equal force. Both of us fought for dominance, unleashing our rage upon one another.
As his fist arced towards my face, I swiftly evaded the blow, countering with a punishing punch to his gut. Brayden grunted in pain, sinking to his knees, clutching his stomach. But I refused to relent, driving him to the ground and continuing my relentless assault. Still, he fought back, refusing to submit.
When I sensed his strength waning, I pushed him away. Brayden lay sprawled on his back, hands clutching his chest, gasping for breath.
Collapsing to the ground, I settled beside him, my lips tinged with the metallic taste of blood.
“Feeling better?” Brayden wheezed, turning his battered face towards me. His swollen eyes fixed upon mine, and I shook my head.
“Not even close.” Every fiber of my being throbbed with sensitivity and ache, yet the rage within me refused to dissipate.
“Damn. I don’t think I can move,” he groaned, wincing in pain. Brayden leaned his head back and let loose a bellow that echoed through the room.
“Avim!”
The door swung open, and Avim entered.
“Your turn,” Brayden remarked, a faint smirk curling his lips.
Avim gave a decisive nod, then proceeded to remove his suit jacket. Following Brayden’s lead, he rolled up his sleeves and prepared himself, casting me a determined glance. Without needing any further indication, I surrendered to my fury and charged forward.
But before I could land a punch, Avim swiftly sidestepped, delivering a solid blow to my shoulder instead. It only served to fuel my anger.
Shifting to the side, I retaliated by kicking him in the leg. He stumbled momentarily, regaining his balance swiftly, and resumed his assault. We engaged in a fierce back-and-forth exchange, fueled by rage and accompanied by the clashing of our teeth. As Avim wore himself out, Leon stepped up, and I was driven by pure adrenaline. Milandro followed suit.
Gradually, my body began to weaken, and my punches became feeble. When Milandro fell to the ground alongside Brayden, Leon, and Avim, I too sank down, collapsing onto the floor and staring up at the ceiling.
These men were more than mere comrades; they were my chosen family, bound by something deeper than blood.
“Artemy,” Brayden started, but I cut him off abruptly.
“Don’t. Just don’t say anything,” I managed to utter, struggling to sit up. With a sigh, I ran my weary hand through my sweat-drenched hair.
Wincing from the pain, I rolled my neck and mustered the strength to rise, albeit unsteadily. Nodding at them, I left the gym, my fury finally subsiding. But for how long? How long until it resurfaced?
I ascended the stairs and bypassed my own bedroom, heading instead to the adjacent room between mine and Rebecca’s. Pushing the door open, I switched on the lights.
My gaze gravitated towards the grand piano occupying the corner of the room. A pang of heartache surged through me, twisting my stomach painfully.
Approaching the piano, I felt a mixture of agony and longing. I paused before it, my fingers tentatively hovering above the keys, pressing down gently.
Unbidden, memories flooded my mind, crashing upon me with unrelenting force.