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A few of the other De Lange cousins who I rarely talked to were in the same dorm, they were in training though, none of them were made—they hadn’t had their first few kills, they hadn’t earned it.
And they sure as hell hadn’t earned it the same way I had, but that was a secret, one only Junior knew about, one he said to keep until the right time. I never questioned his motives after that moment, the rest of the Families thought I’d never spilled blood.
Another reason Phoenix was so hellbent on saving me via philosophy, he had no clue I’d been doing shit for his own son for years-and had blood-stained nightmares because of it.
“Do it.” Junior handed me the knife. “He betrayed you, he betrayed us, the Family, and betrayal is betrayal.”
I didn’t remind him I was only eighteen, or that I was born out of blood and terrified of what would happen to me if I set the rage free. I was a De Lange after all, I’d heard rumors that the De Langes became addicted to blood, addicted to the adrenaline that followed after taking a life and obsessed with more.
Phoenix, his father, watched from the corner of the room, he was staring hard at a black folder and then back at his phone. Were his hands shaking? It was supposed to be a training exercise after all, what do you do in this sort of situation?
I’d never seen him looked stressed or confused; he was both. I kept staring, yes, he was clearly both in a way that sent chills down my spine.
Junior suddenly smacked me in the back of the head with the hilt of the knife. “Look at me, not him. Do your job prove your worth to a dying Family who might one day need you to take the reins.”
My head jerked up. It was the first time he’d said something like that to me before. He was fearless, and he was the interim boss, why would he even say that out loud?
Something in his eyes flashed. A warning? A premonition?
I glanced over at the De Lange men not so casually watching.
Phoenix excused himself from the room. “We can end here, Junior, you know what to do.”
I was ready to hand the knife back, but when the metal soundproof door clicked shut with such damning finality, it was hard to breathe. Junior’s head tilted to the side, sizing me up, eyes narrowing, a cruel smile spread across his face. “If you want to prove you’re De Lange, you have your chance, you either rise or you fall, what are you going to choose, because everyone in this Family must make a choice, rise out of the fire or be the fucking one who caused it.”
“You don’t need to rise if you’re already there, I’d rather start the fire and watch the world burn.” I knew what I had to do.
Because Junior simply smiled and stepped back as if to say, do the honors, I beg of you.
I refused any more hesitation and took the knife from him and walked behind the guy on his knees. His gag was shoved so deep into his mouth he had spit soaking it, tears ran down his face, it was hardly recognizable. He wasn’t just stealing money; he was selling drugs laced with Fentanyl, something our Family never dealt with—at least not anymore.
The De Langes, for the most part, ran clean businesses now.
But there was always one outlier. In every walk of life, you would always, no matter what, find the one person who thought they were the exception, not the rule.
Note, Exhibit A.
He stared up at me, his dark eyes were lost, and when he looked around the room for support that I didn’t see and felt every single man look away.
I’m sure he had accomplices, people who earned money from him, but he was the fall guy.
I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “The only way out is death—say hi to my father.” I slit his throat as fast as I could, warm blood spilled over my knuckles as he toppled forward, staining my white converse and blue jeans.
“Clean up.” Junior tossed me a towel. “Marco, you take care of the rest with Tank.”
I walked past him, then Phoenix, who gave me a blank stare before taking the cement stairs one by one up to the top, where all the happy existed.
Family. Food. Love.
The basement was for punishment.
But the kitchen? That was all reward. It was warm there. Alive.
It reminded me of my mom, most of the memories were tarnished with blood and killing, and with that, darkness, but I still remember the smell of fresh bread.
My greedy inhale was almost too loud to my own ears.
No bread, but they were cooking something with a lot of garlic.
