I Gave Him Fentanyl - 🔞A Dark Romance Thriller

13. Fenty Love Potion

I KNOW IT'S DANGEROUS. Something that could really get myself killed. I am entering the crime world of deadly cartels, and I'm aware how gruesome and scary it could be. But the thing is... the more I get scared, the more I get excited.

Accepting the job as the Sparrow's runner brought back the thrill that I have been lacking since Harlow Morgan passed. I missed the thrill of tailing someone and spying on them from afar without getting known. I love how they think they can do whatever they want when no one's watching, but here's the thing, there's always someone watching, and sometimes it happens to be me.

I like to watch people reveal their natural selves that they try to suppress or hide. I like to see their purity, their rawness, the naturality of it all. It's wholesome for me. I can feel the connection building between us, even though I'm just there at the shadows, watching. It's something intimate. Real.

I admit, I slightly feel that with the Rabbit. However, he's difficult to tail constantly. He's unpredictable. I find it annoying that whenever I try to find him, he would find me first. He doesn't give me the satisfaction of catching him. It's frustrating and upsetting. But, somehow, it gives me strong motivation to keep going just to prove myself that.... I can.

So, I start to frequent the main club of the Western Shore Cartel, The Den. I've been selling small packs of the Sparrow's specialties around the premises to commit to the plan of aggravating the snakes, just what I promised the lady chemist. But it's not the only reason I'm doing that.

I know that the Rabbit is hunting snakes. Going here would expose him to me. I got a feeling that he'd show up this time, I just have to be patient.

The neon lights flicker and buzz as I make my way into the bustling nightclub. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and alcohol, mingling together to create a heady atmosphere that promise a night of excitement and adventure.

As I walk further into the club, the pulsating beat of the music grow louder, reverberating through my chest and making my heart race with anticipation. The dance floor is a mass of bodies writhing and moving to the rhythm, their movements hypnotic and fluid as they lose themselves in the music.

I make my way to the bar, squeezing past groups of friends laughing and chatting animatedly. The bartender flashes me a smile as I approach. "Scotch, please." I say. His eyes scan the array of bottles behind him before he pours me the drink with practiced skill. I take a sip, the ice-cold liquid burning its way down my throat and warming me from the inside out.

Taking my drink, I wander through the club, taking in the sights and sounds around me. The DJ is up on a raised platform, his hands moving deftly over the turntables as he mixes one track into the next, creating a seamless stream of music that has everyone on the dance floor moving in perfect harmony.

The walls are lined with mirrors that reflect the flashing lights and the swirling colors of the crowd, creating a kaleidoscope effect that seems to go on forever. I feel like I am in a different world, a world where anything is possible and the rules of the outside world didn't apply.

It's thrilling. It's magnetic. It's addictive. It's dangerous.

In a spot at the edge of the dance floor, men in expensive dark suits sit in a private booth, drinking expensive liquors in expensive glasses. The area there is misty as they also smoke cigars like an old timey train polluting the air... But through that thick smoke, I can perfectly see the three Vanderheim brothers in the middle couch, all beautiful and regal with their dark curls and tan skin and tattoos, while others sit at the side.

I've heard and read about them: The infamous Vanderheim - the crime family who rules the West. They own the snakes. They are the snakes.