The Taste Of Revenge (War of Sins Book 1)

Rafaelo

I release a tired breath as I jump off the off the treadmill, grabbing a towel from a nearby table to wipe the sweat off my face and chest.

'One hour on the dot at full speed. I'm impressed,' Carlos whistles as he strides in, his eyes on the digital clock. 'Your body is recovering well,' he comments, grabbing a bottle of water and flinging it to me.

'As well as possible, all things considered."

The path to recovery had been grim—still is. You don't get clean overnight, especially not after the drugs I'd been on. I've managed to recover my muscle mass but my stamina is still lagging behind.

'How's the craving? On a scale from one to ten?'

'Eleven,' I state honestly. 'A thousand?' I shrug when he gives me an odd look. 'We both knew it wasn't going to be a smooth journey.'

If anything, it's still bumpy. The only improvement has been that I've managed to increase the time between my doses. Now I don't need one daily—just every few days. Almost two years later, and I still haven't managed to relinquish the hold it has on me.

'I swear I don't know what they put in that shit. I've never seen drugs like that, and I've been surrounded by dope my entire life.'

'It puts fentanyl to shame,' I give him a strained smile.

And it does. If anything, it puts most drugs to shame.

Prevalent in restricted circles, it's mostly used in one particular industry—human slavery.

The drug inhibits free will, making one pliable to taking orders and ensuring that the self takes a back seat in favor of the master's desires. Not only does it turn one into a human puppet, but it also ensures an insane dependency, creating an everlasting bond between slave and master. You live to obey, or you die a wretched death trying to beat the cravings. Been there, done that and wouldn't recommend it.

Carlos' men had tried to identify the compounds of the drug in an effort to help me beat my addiction, but they'd only managed to discover that it's based on synthesized scopolamine in combination with a few other mysterious compounds.

Since we hadn't been able to replicate the exact formula of the drug, we'd had to look for alternatives to help me slowly wean myself off it. A cocktail of known and unknown drugs later, and we succeeded in replicating a weaker but more chaotic version of it. And that is the only thing that keeps me afloat.

'You think you can do it next week?' he asks grimly, and I nod.

'I'm ready.' Or as ready as I'll ever be.

We'd compiled a schedule with fixed dates when I would considerably lower my dosage. All in an effort to eventually get clean. And next week will probably be the worst so far since we're limiting my dosage to only once a week. When the withdrawal will strike... I wouldn't want to be around myself.

'I told doc to be on standby and everyone is ready to help," Carlos adds.

'I'll be a nightmare, won't I?' I attempt a joke, though he doesn't laugh. But then, he never does. He's always a surly motherfucker, but he's the only one I trust. Without Carlos, I don't think I would have managed to get to where I am. He'd been the first person I'd reached out to, and by some stroke of luck—or rather common enemy—we'd both struck a reluctant partnership that had turned into a full blown friendship.

We'd quickly realized that we had more in common than we'd thought, including bone deep betrayals and family issues that would give any normal person the chills.

'We have an emergency meeting,' he relays, his gaze distant.

'How bad is it?' I ask, knowing he wouldn't have personally come to get me if it wasn't urgent.