Blood Red || Book I

Chapter 14: Doodle of Saturn

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND VIOLENCE AND PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

Hell's Kitchen : 2016

Aleksandra's POV

A euphoric feeling lingers as I ride my bike to the meeting. I weave in and out of cars in a rush to get there, worried I'll crash if I ride on this high any longer. I've never had to ride my motorcycle or drive a car while my head remains stuck in this haze, but I kinda like it. I like the absence of worry and strategy; I like the recklessness.

Tonight's meeting is at the Ranskahov garage, where they stash their taxis. It's a typical meeting spot, unassuming. You wouldn't question a bunch of cars going into a garage. That would be a ridiculous thing to be suspicious of.  I'd almost feel bad for the idiot who thought, "Huh, I wonder why cars are going into a garage?"

I don't slow down as I navigate into the opening of the garage, allowing the ramp to pull me down even faster than I was going, adding extra adrenaline to my already excessive-high. My heart is going incredibly fast; I fucking love it.

My bike comes to a skidding stop, forcing all the momentum to stop at once and forcing my bike to turn 180 degrees to avoid crashing into something or someone. Besides the usual people at Mr. Fisk's meetings, there were also the people the Ranskahov brothers employ. Bloodstained water covered the ground and slowly drained.

More blood.
This night keeps getting better and better.

The smell is dull, diluted with water. It doesn't matter, though; blood is blood.

Even over the sound of the power washer the Ranskahov employees are using to get Anatoly's head bits off the door frame of the car, Leland's voice echoes throughout the garage. Even though he is a loud talker, I cannot fully grasp what he's saying. There's a soft ring in my ears that, combined with the power washer, drowns out the actual words he's saying. I know it's his voice. I know he's speaking, but I can't register anything.

As I approach the group of mobsters and drug dealers, I take the helmet off; my mask and hair are still intact. The instructions for the meeting said to keep the blood on my face, so I do just that. I'm not complaining; I get to ride out my high for longer and relish in a well-done job. My eyes scan the circle, acknowledging everyone I see.

There are so many mobsters in one room. Harsh faces that have or been an accomplice in a murder or assassination. Except for one. In a sea of drugs, sex, and crime, there's an angel sneaking glances and smiles at me.

Under my mask, I want to smile back and let him know I see him, too, but would we risk being in trouble? In the Red Room, we would be punished for anything that indicated a connection, romantic or platonic. We, of course, cared for each other, but no one knew what was a genuine connection or simply bonding because they were there. Although I don't want to, it's the ladder.

Maverick's face melts away all of the other thoughts in my brain. Nothing else matters right now. I've just met him, but I feel like I've known him for years at this point.

Why am I feeling like this? I have been around boys my whole life, yet he makes me feel something. He isn't just an object; he means something. Fuck, I must be going crazy.

The illusion of it being just us is quickly fading. Our reality crashes back as Leland continues to ask questions. Gao just giggles at him.

Leland looks me in the eyes and says something to me. I can't make out his words, but I can sort of read his lips. He repeats the word "look" several times, but he mumbles so much that I don't catch the rest.

His eyes dart to something behind me that shuts him up immediately. I push my shoulders back, making myself look more intimidating as Fisk's car pulls up.