Made Your Mark on Me // Larry

What Do I Know About Loyalty?

Chapter Four

"Hello?"

The warehouse he had been told to meet the boss at was pitch black. The door slammed shut behind him as he entered the unlit room. "Hello?" He called again. The word echoed off the windowless walls. A shiver danced across his spine.

A light flickered from the bulb hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the expansive room before darkness engulfed the area again. Off in the distance, he heard a door being opened, but he couldn't see anything. "Who's there?! Show yourself," he said menacingly, raising his fists in preparation to fight. He should've brought a pocket knife with him or, better yet, a gun. At least he knows for next time.

He felt his arm being grabbed. Before he could react, a flashlight turned on and was shined in his face. He put his hand up to shield his eyes. Looking beyond the glare, a man stood. The man had leather-like skin with dark, tangled hair surrounding his face and falling to his shoulders. His beard looked dry and wiry. Deep wrinkles were set in stone on the man's face. Bushy eyebrows obscured pitchblack eyes with an unbalanced gleam to them.

This is probably the scariest looking man he's ever seen.

"Let's go, kid," the man all but growled as he dragged him towards a door that could be seen by the flashlight. "The boss wants to meet you."

His feet dragged as he was roughly hauled through the door and stumbled down the grimy staircase, landing in a dimly lit hallway. There were doors lining the hall, at least ten of them if not more.

He was taken to an office at the end of the hallway.

"Open the door, kid," the gruff man behind him demanded.

With slightly shaky hands and a fake facade of confidence, his hand went in slow motion towards the handle. Twisting the doorknob to the right, the door creaked forward, revealing a place much different from the rest of the offputting warehouse. Inside was a spacious office dressed to the nines in elegant and modern colors. There were marble statues, a water fountain all the way to the back, a lounge area with a TV mounted above a fireplace, etc. The space screamed money.

A girl walked by holding a serving platter with what looked to be a glass of scotch. The girl stopped when she reached a man sitting behind a desk. The man was around fifty years old, give or take, and was dressed in a grey business suit.

"Will that be all, sir?" the girl questioned, placing the drink on the man's desk.

"Thank you, Marguerite. This is plenty. I'll ring if I need anything else," the man was perfectly polite, a wide contrast to the gruff man that dragged him through the warehouse.

"Well, don't just stand around," the polite man called to him. He stood at the entryway still with what was probably an astonished look on his face. "Come, sit."

He made his way over to the man's desk and sat across from the friendly face.

"Yousef, you may excuse yourself," the businessman said to the grimy, rough man.

"Thank you, sir," the gruff man announced, bowing to the businessman as if he were his master, before leaving the room.

"Brett."

The confident man abruptly addressed the decently muscular boy with an air of prominence. "...To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Brett needed this. He couldn't fuck this up.

"I heard of your...business through a friend, and I thought we could help each other with our talents," Brett kept a poker face on, willing himself to seem taller, stronger, older.

"What exactly would you need from me?"

The question was perfectly set up. Brett can see two outcomes from here.

"Money. I need a job that pays more than minimum wage." Brett cut to the chase. There's no point in skirting around the matter.

"And pray tell....what's in it for me?" the Boss smirked, dimples indented on his cheeks. On most, dimples would look cute, friendly. They made the man in front of Brett look all the more deadly.

This is the tricky part.

"I know an Omega. If you give me time, I can gather all the information necessary on the boy. I'm sure leaders all around the world would pay a pretty penny to have a slave like him."

Brett held his breath. He didn't have any other cards to show if this went south.

The Boss smirk widened as he threw his head back with a gleeful laugh. "The Omega must be some looker if you're promising foreign leaders to be that enthused over the boy," the man's dimples deepened. "Do you expect me to take your word for it without seeing evidence of your lofty claim?"

Brett fumbled slightly, stuffing his hands down his jean pockets to find his phone. He takes it out and opens it to his photos, selecting one he took a few days ago of the Omega. The blue-eyed boy in the picture has a stormy expression on his face that is clear as day even with the distance between the boy and the camera. Brett zoomed in slightly before handing his phone to the Boss.

The older man gazed at the picture with interest, his dimples enhancing with each second that went by.

The man put the phone down on the desk with little care to the object's screen. Brett scooped his phone up and quickly stuffed it in his pocket, not daring to speak a word.

The Boss picked up his glass of scotch and tipped his head back as he swallowed the liquid in one go. A line of scotch leaked out the corner of his mouth. The man's tongue flicked to the fluid like a snake as he caught the remaining drops.

A hard glint entered the man's eyes that had been absent throughout the rest of their conversation. Brett felt sweat on the back of his neck.

"The name of the Omega?" it wasn't a question so much as a demand.

Brett felt a shiver snake up his back. He couldn't turn back now. This was it.

"Louis."

The Boss's chair scraped against the hardwood floor as the man stood behind his desk, making Brett jump in his chair. Brett quickly followed suit.

His Boss towered over Brett, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"You start tomorrow. I know just the place to put you. My right hand man could use an extra hand with the shipment of drugs coming from the West. Get his number from Yousef on the way out."

Brett let out the breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"Yes," he replied robotically. "Yes, thank you, sir."

"I'll expect an update on the Omega within the week," their eyes met, and Brett didn't know how the man was able to hold such power. "You're dismissed. Don't disappoint me. You wouldn't enjoy the outcome."

Brett bowed, keeping in mind how Yousef left, before he got his last word in.

"I won't let you down, sir."

TBC

What do you think so far?