The Handsome Devil II: Redemption

Chapter 65 - The Resurrection

"Come on you piece of crap." Maximón cursed under his breath as he tried to put the hair pin and a nail to use.

Nonetheless, just like the million of attempts that preceded this one, the lock wouldn't give in. The nail proving just a little too short to reach the spring bars at the very back, and the hair pin too fragile for him to apply sufficient pressure without breaking it.

Neither of these realisations prevented him for trying it again and again. Although, if you assumed it was the fear for his own life, you would be mistaken.

Even if Chace was telling the truth, one learns to come to terms with mortality in his line of work.

No.

Just like many times before, his motivations came down to Deya's safety. The thought of her being dragged by the lowlife to god knows where tormenting him to no end because even if he didn't hurt her – and he better not – Max was convinced that he was incapable of protecting her from whatever the threat they were running away from was.

The Syndicate. His inner voice repeated in disbelief.

Could it really be?

The legends about the family have been an integral part of the London underground, passed from one generation to the next. But it was all he believed them to be. Legends.

An oh so powerful line of mobsters that at one point had the whole county under its thumb, disposing of anyone who threatened to their power without mercy. A state so different from the fragmented city he knew.

Who could blame him for doubting the substance of those stories?

After all, if they were even half true, what could have possibly forced them to give it all up and withdraw into the background? To vanish without a trace. If you ignore the rare rumour here and there. Besides, no one he questioned had the slightest clue as to the identity of their leader either.

No. The more he pondered, the more unlikely it seemed.

And yet, the fear he could read in Chace's eyes was genuine, which raises the question - a fear of whom?

His thoughts were cut off as he caught the distinctive sound of a key rattling in a lock, forcing him to drop his humble tools into his pocket and focus his gaze in the direction it came from.

For the short moment between the interruption and the door opening, he was sure that it's one of Chace's men coming down here to dispose of him.

In fact, he pictured his final moments so vividly, that he became convinced that there's no other possibility of what's about to come out of the darkness that revealed itself.

"Coming to end this, huh? Well--" He murmured impatiently at the lack of action.

Determined not to show the tiniest bit of cowardice.

Nonetheless, the well of his words dried up instantly when he saw the head full of raven black hair pop out.

"I certainly hope I am." Deya delivered in a trembling voice, her tears pouring even heavier than they had on the way there.

This time, though, they were tears of relief.

"Baby girl? What you're—" Maximón breathed out in surprise, his voice trailing off once again as he registered the blood on her hands.

"Are you hurt?" He inquired, visibly alarmed.

But all she could do was shake her head. Unwilling to talk about the crime she's just committed out loud.