Chapter 7
The neon sign of the Starlight Motel flickered with a sickly, buzzing yellow light. Inside room 114, the atmosphere was suffocating. The bright, vivid colors of the mafia elite were completely gone, replaced by peeling wallpaper, a stained carpet, and the heavy stench of stale cigarette smoke and sheer, unadulterated panic.
Bastian paced the cramped room like a caged animal. His tailored suit jacket was tossed carelessly onto the sagging mattress. His crisp dress shirt was wrinkled, the top buttons undone, his luxury watch catching the dim light of a single bedside lamp. The right side of his fair, rosy face was swollen and purple from Alaric's devastating slap.
"Pick up the phone, damn you!" Bastian yelled into his cell phone, his American accent cracking with desperation. He threw the device onto the bed when the call went straight to voicemail again. "That's the fifth capo in Chicago who won't take my calls. They know. The whole underground knows Alaric cut me off."
Faye sat on the edge of the bed, weeping hysterically. The elegant satin dress she had worn so proudly just hours ago now looked absurd and pathetic in the dingy motel room. She clutched her small baby bump, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup.
"You promised me, Bastian!" Faye sobbed, her voice shrill. "You promised me we were going to live in the main estate! You said Alaric would accept the boy! Now we are hiding in a slum with nothing!"
"Shut up, Faye! Just shut up!" Bastian roared, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I am trying to fix this!"
"Fix it?" Bianca spat from the small, rickety chair in the corner of the room. The sixty-three-year-old woman looked completely haggard. Her luxurious formal dress was ruined, her pearl jewelry looking gaudy against the squalor. "You fool. You underestimated Alaric. I told you we needed to secure the Chicago backing before you paraded that girl in front of him!"
"You were the one who pushed Serena!" Bastian accused, pointing a shaking finger at his mother. "If you hadn't put your hands on his daughter, I could have negotiated! I could have reasoned with him!"
"Reasoned with a rabid dog?" Bianca laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Alaric doesn't negotiate. He eradicates. And right now, his men are probably hunting us."
Suddenly, Bastian’s phone buzzed on the bed. He snatched it up immediately, his eyes widening as he read the encrypted text message.
"What is it?" Faye asked, shrinking back from his erratic energy.
Bastian’s face drained of the little color it had left. "My warehouses... the ones on the docks. They're gone."
"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Bianca demanded, standing up.
"Burned to the ground," Bastian whispered, staring at the screen in absolute horror. "The message says the fire department isn't even trying to put it out. And my offshore accounts... the shell companies... Alaric’s hackers drained them. He didn't just freeze my assets. He stole them. We have exactly what is in our pockets."
Faye let out a loud, pathetic wail, curling into a ball on the dirty bedspread.
"Get your things," Bastian ordered, his voice trembling as pure survival instinct kicked in. "We can't stay here. If he burned the warehouses, he knows where we are. We have to get to the airstrip. I have a private pilot who owes me a favor. We fly to Mexico tonight."
May you like
"We are running?" Bianca asked, her arrogant pride finally shattering.
"If we stay, we die, Mother," Bastian said, grabbing his suit jacket. "Alaric is going to kill us all."
