The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Forty Nine

  "You sure this is the right address?" Maria asks.

"Pretty sure." I shrug, looking down at my phone.

When I first started looking into the father and son's whereabouts, I discovered that they were living just outside of Nova Scotia and running a car repair shop. Now, the boy is around 16, but according to the website he's been working in the business for two years. And I shit you not- on the front page, it says "A father son duo that fled to Canada to escape persecution".

Persecution was a little dramatic. After the whole ordeal was over we never acknowledged their existence again. I guess it was just too much for them- living so close to the group's headquarters and knowing what happened there every day. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing if it were my kid.

In front of us is a house and barn that look like they belong in the 1800's. Old homes are becoming more and more popular because they don't use as many building materials to restore, and there is quite a charm to them. I'd be worried about the roof caving in on my face while I'm sleeping- but to each his own.

The barn is faded, a classic with about ten cars in front of it. I know this is where we'll find them this time of day, from their walk in hours. They've apparently done pretty well for themselves.

"Okay-ready?" Maria raises her eyebrows and steps in front of me. I take a deep breath.

"I think so...." I sigh. "I mean, I could trigger such a massive panic attack in the both of them. I don't want to.... Bring up their traumas."

"It might be necessary for healing." She shrugs. "God knows it was for me."

I'd have killed that business partner myself if was around when he was- no. Murder is too good for him. I would have tied him to a chair with those special wires the group used- the ones that cut your wrists and ankles when you tried to move, and then I would have gotten my hands on those false bullets the secret service uses in training. After pelting a few hundred rounds at his unprotected, naked body- I would have taken the saying "Death by a thousand cuts" literally, only not enough to kill him. Just enough to make him want to die. Then, I would use that ancient rat torture method- but again, not enough to kill him. Then I would repeat this cycle over and over again until his body physically could not take any more, and finally, finally I would kill him. But this would not be an ordinary death. There's another medieval torture method where the person will be sat on top of a large pyramid like structure with the tip in there ass or vagina, depending on the gender. They'd then get left there until they dehydrated or bled to death. I would leave him there until the latter.

"Whatcha thinking?"

"Oh, nothing important. Let's do this so we can go home." I say.

Home.

Since when has Costa Rica been my home?

That was definitely the first time I referred to the country as a whole as home.

I take a single step towards the barn. Maria is right by my side. I do not deserve her.

We are within earshot now. Muffled whispers come from inside. I recognize both of the voices. Maria squeezes my hand hard.

This is wrong.

Why is she supporting me while I'm apologizing to a five year old I once tortured?

"Maria.... No matter what you hear in there.... From them.... I do love you."

"We'll they'll be understandably angry." She replies. "I would. I'd say just about anything to hurt you too if that meant hurting whoever you were with. And I love you too. Stop procrastinating."

Two inches away from the sliding doors, I give myself one more second. They could get physical. If they do I deserve it. If they hit me, that is nothing compared to what I put them through.

Then before I have a chance to protest, Maria pulls it open. Fuck. No. No no no I'm not ready.

  "Welcome to Tom's family services-" The father starts saying without looking up from the car he's currently working on.  Then he stands, his face contorted because of the back pain and looks towards us. Instantly the expression on his face freezes.

  "Dad what's-" A sweaty sixteen year old boy with scars covering his body emerges from behind the hood of another one.

  Unlike his father, he laughs.

  "Well shit." He shakes his head. "I knew you weren't dead. You were too young to let some illness or other inmate kill you."

  "It's not that simple. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you-"

  "Oh hell I hardly remember it. I was so young and so stupid anyways it wouldn't have mattered." He scoffs. "My dad though- he's the one you need to apologize to. He's never been the same you fucking piece of-"

  "Let me handle him." The dad suddenly snaps out of his trance. He walks the few steps forward, and pushes his son behind him. "Get out."

  With him less than a foot away from my face, my instincts tell me to listen. But for some reason I don't.

  "Sir, I-"

  "GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OR I WILL KILL YOU FOR REAL!!" He runs his hands through his hair. "Now. You ruined our lives and you will never be able to fix or apologize for that."

  I open and close my mouth a good ten times.

"Sir-" Maria starts.

  "You too." He interrupts. "Any acquaintance of his is an enemy of mine. If you don't have a bodyguard-"

  He steps closer to her. "I'd recommend getting one."

  For me, that is the final straw and I listen.

  Outside, we linger.

  "Was that it?" She asks. "I mean, we came this far to get told to fuck off?"

  "Yeah. Yeah we did."