Thrust Into His Arms

Chapter 86: Chapter 86 A Call To Conscience

I then press on a button for it to open. The wall slowly moves. Sliding open on one side. It closes after me as I enter.

I flip on a switch for all of the lights to come on. I move very fast. Grabbing everything I needed in a matter of seconds; Black leather gloves, one syringe of tranquilizer darts that I would probably need.

A large briefcase to contain those and my sniper gun. My bulletproof vest and the keys to my bulletproof car parked there in the room. I remove the dust cover and double-check that the car is in excellent condition before I drive it out through the tunnel-like structure that leads out to a dirt road several kilometers away from the house.

I floored the pedal. Reaching my destination in twelve minutes. I got out and went up to the rooftop of the hotel building that is still under construction. It is the highest point in the area. From here, I can watch my assignment, Thomas Jones come out of the late night rendezvous he is having with another senior politician who is most likely his new godfather. Before I gun him down with a bullet to his brain.

It’s nothing personal. If he had any fear for his life, he wouldn’t have offended my uncle.

After setting the sniper, I did not have to wait long.

He comes out shaking hands and with a man whom I assume is the person he had come to see. ​My finger hovered just above the trigger. Waiting for his head to fit in the killer circle.

Staring unblinkingly at it and breathing slowly. Steady. I’ve done this nearly a hundred times. Never missed once; today will be no different. I can say this is one of my secret hobbies. Killing. Snuffing out the life out of people. Mostly traitors of our mafioso.

There is something fucking addictive about it. And if I should be honest, that is why I’m really out here now doing this. Not necessarily because of my nephew-son obligation to my uncle who is the ultimate Don of the mafioso which spans from the west coast to the south. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Fuck-finally. His head has completely entered the circle. I was ready to pull the trigger. A finger thread away from ending his life right there, I sight something. Someone. A little boy. frёewebnoѵēl.com

I focus the sniper on him so I could get a better look at him. He is prancing happily besides the man who is holding his hand. He looks like he is around age seven to nine. He is holding a small toy car. The man whom I should kill smiles lovingly at him. Holding his hand to a car several meters away. He must be his son.

I don’t want to name the feeling that tugs at my chest.

In my world, a soft conscience is as good as a deadly bullet. A weakness one can never afford or let take root within one’s self according to my uncle.

I resolve in my mind to carry on with the assignment. But my finger is hesitating cold on the trigger. I’m unable to bring myself to pull it.

How would that little boy feel if his Dad were to suddenly drop dead in front of him? I thought of my parents. I am told they were assassinated and brutally murdered. I and my twin brother were hidden by our parents and found later on. We were just babies. I never knew my parents.

I am glad that I was a baby when they died. It would have been hurtful if I had known them.

Some of the people who are aware of my orphan situation look at me with pity. And I don’t quite get it. Is that something to be pitied for?

I grew up nicely with my eccentric uncle. He is not the nicest person to be around with, but he is okay. I wondered if he would taken me in as his son if he had not been sterile and unable to have children of his own. I wasn’t old enough to know my parents much less understand parental love. What it means and the feeling to crave and miss it. You can’t miss what you never had.

Sometimes I’m curious though.

Curious to know what it is like to have the two people responsible for your birth present in your life and directing your future and choices.

Oh fuck! I can’t do it. I just fucking can’t.

Why did this little boy have to be with him now? And by this time of the night? He is supposed to be at home.

In his bed, soundly sleeping. A reasonable parent is supposed to put heir children to bed early. Not taking them out at fucking 1am! And made to witness a murder. I do not really know if he is his Dad, but whoever Jones is to the little boy, witnessing his death is going to traumatize him. I was not able to steel myself into pulling the trigger till they entered the car and drove away. I rake my fingers through my hair. Pulling it.

Uncle is not going to like this at all. But for what it’s worth, I did save that little kid a traumatic experience.

My phone rings at dawn. I did not need to be told who is calling. "You punk! Why is that fogey still alive? Did I not give you a specific instruction to get rid of him?" His rough baritone voice erased the small residue of sleepiness in my head.

"Good morning, uncle." I greet. "I don’t know what is good about the morning. Why did you not do it?" He asks. I pinch my nose bridge. I can’t tell him I got softened by the sight of the man’s kid.

"I just thought it would be best to push it forward. I’II take care of it. Don’t worry." I say.

"Why did you not do it?"

"Do what?".

"You were around that area at the time that fogey left McVey’s house.

It cannot be said that you failed since there is no news of a murder attempt. There wasn’t any at all.

You didn’t even try. Tell me why?"

Fuck.