The Don of Night✔

Thirty-One

In this kind of lifestyle, time is immaterial.

It's not that it never matters, it's just very easy to whizz past you without you having the slightest clue.

Kian always told time by the night.

It was an odd thing for him, but it's what he does.

He could tell you everything about the darkness.

Who crossed into his turf, who was selling drugs on his corner, the young girl who shouldn't be walking at this kind of time, and the guy who was lurking behind her.

He could even tell you who was taken a piss in the corner of an alleyway.

He knew everything and anything that happens and he can tell you the exact time once the sun was removed.

He knew that counting nights were no different than counting days. They were all the same at the end of the day.

All he knew was that it has been 107 torturous nights since he saw Ellieandra. Well, at least up close.

At first, Kian knew she was trying to avoid him. He respected her as he saw her dodging and ducking where she thought he would be. 

It was comical for him to see how naive she was. She had no clue that he had eyes everywhere, but he admired the effort. 

After their last talk, he tried to get his shit together. 

It was hard as f**k, but he tried. 

He gave her what she wanted, space. Okay, he's lying. He still kept tabs on her as some form of guilty pleasure. 

It was the least he can do considering he was trying to give up smoking since Kruz made it seem like he was kidnapping puppies and hanging them by their necks.

Seeing her as she goes to work or by Randa's apartment was his only way to release the pent-up pressure he had. Well, until he later find out that she had moved and his brother being the dick he is, decided to hide that information. 

 Kruz said it was unhealthy or some shit, but he didn't understand how wrong he was. 

Yes, it was practically stalking, but it kept his irrationality to a calming point. 

Kruz learned that the hard way, because shortly after Kian couldn't find where she lived because Kruz made sure of it, he lost it.

Kian, on a good day, was a merciless killer, so now after he lost the very thing that made him at least a better version of himself made him worse.

He first went for the Videntes, in a space of a week he had racked up the money he had lost to Vincent. He had come to a mutual ground with his partners and he was now the power-hungry boss he had always been. 

Yet, even the amount of killing that Kian was doing wasn't easing the agitation he constantly felt. 

The blood that sprayed from their head still didn't relieve him the way it normally did. He was just so angry. 

So f**king angry. 

He wanted to kill Vincent. He wanted to put a bullet right between his eyes, but he knew he would never do that to her. 

He just had so much anger bolted up that he wasn't sure where to direct it. 

His high was ruined, his bloodlust was fizzling out and he couldn't get the very thing he wanted or needed at this point.

Kassie had tried to reach out to him, he had caught her many times lurking by his door. He just couldn't care about what she wanted to say. 

It wasn't that he was angry with her, but he literally couldn't hear anything she have to say.