Blood In The Dirt

Lothaire walked out of the sitting room, leaving Emily with the guards. His jaw was tight, his hands flexed at his sides. He needed air. Needed space.

His uncle was waiting in the hallway. Dante. The man who’d raised him after his father died. Taught him everything. How to lead. How to survive. How to kill when necessary.

“The delivery is in the basement,” Dante said, his voice low.

Lothaire nodded. He’d been expecting this. Dreading it, but expecting it.

He made his way through the house, down a set of stairs that led to the lower level. The basement wasn’t like the rest of the estate. No marble floors. No polished surfaces. Just concrete and shadows. This was where they handled business. The kind of business that didn’t happen in boardrooms.

The hallway was narrow, lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. His footsteps echoed as he walked. At the end of the hall was a heavy steel door. He pushed it open.

The room inside was cold. Damp. The smell of sweat and blood hung in the air.

And there he was.

Matthew Verratti. One of his men. Or at least, he had been. Now he was strung up like a piece of meat, arms stretched wide, wrists bound to chains bolted into the ceiling. His feet barely touched the ground. His shirt was torn, blood dripping from cuts on his face and chest.

Lothaire stepped inside, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.

Matthew lifted his head, his eyes swollen but still defiant. He grinned, showing bloodied teeth.

“Well, well,” Matthew said, his voice hoarse. “Look who we have here. Lothaire the Great. What are you going to do? Beat me up? Cut off my balls?”

Lothaire didn’t respond. Not yet. He walked closer, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Yes,” Lothaire said finally. “I would. Definitely. But only if you’d just stolen from me.”

Matthew laughed. A wet, rattling sound.

“Trafficking children?” Lothaire continued, his voice colder now. “That’s above the line. Way above. So no, beating you up would be doing you a favor.”

Marco’s grin faltered.

“I’ll make sure termites don’t even find a piece of your body,” Lothaire said. “You’ve smeared the name of this family. You’ve broken the one rule I told you never to break. And now you face the consequences.”

This was the exact reason my father was shot 5 years ago, because we refused to deal with children, it’s not right.

Matthew spat blood onto the floor. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re some kind of saint? You’re a killer, Lothaire. Just like the rest of us.”

“Maybe,” Lothaire said. “But I don’t touch kids. I don’t sell them. I don’t destroy their lives for profit.”

He turned toward the door and knocked twice. It opened immediately. Two guards stepped inside.

“Take him to the yard,” Lothaire said. “Make it quick.”

“Wait…” Matthew’s voice cracked. The defiance was gone now. “Wait, Lothaire, please….”

Lothaire didn’t look back. He walked out of the room, the sound of Marco’s screams following him down the hallway.

--------------------

Upstairs, Emily sat on the bare floor, allowing the warm water spraying from the shower hit her body, still scared and in disbelief of what has happened over the past 24 hours.

She stood up with almost the last strength she had left, walked to the room, threw a robe and that was when she decided, whatever this is? she’s not giving up, she won’t be cajunned to stay here.

She opened the door, this time it wasn’t locked. Maybe Lothaire had thought she wouldn’t try to escape, well he must be an actual joke. “ I’ll keep trying to escape for 365 days” He doesn’t know me yet. He’s in for a long ride

She kept running, she ran as fast as her leg could carry. She was outside the compound this time, confused if the main gate is left or right. She turned and that was when she saw them.

The yard. Where they handled executions.

The night air was cool. The stars were out, scattered across the sky like broken glass. Lothaire stood near the edge of the property, watching as his men dragged Matthew out. The man was still pleading, still begging.

Lothaire felt nothing.

One of his men handed him a gun. Silencer already attached. Lothaire checked the chamber. Loaded.

Matthew was forced to his knees in the dirt. His hands were still bound. He was crying now, his face a mess of tears and blood.

“Please,” Matthew begged. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again. Just let me go.”

Lothaire raised the gun.

“You should have thought about that before you touched those girls.”

He pulled the trigger.

The shot was almost silent. A muffled pop. Matthew ’s body jerked once, then crumpled to the ground.

Lothaire lowered the gun, his expression unchanged. He handed it back to one of his men.

“Bag him,” he said. “Burn the body. Make sure nothing’s left.”

“Yes, sir.”

The men moved quickly, pulling out a black body bag and lifting Matthew’s corpse into it. Lothaire turned away, ready to head back inside.

That’s when he saw her.

Emily.

She was standing at the edge of the yard, maybe twenty feet away. Frozen like a statue. Her eyes wide, fixed on the body bag, on the blood soaking into the dirt.

He didn’t move, She didn’t either.

She was falling to the ground again, another blackout.

Fuck, He said quietly,