Chapter 4

GUTEMBERG

I slide the gate bolt slowly, checking over my shoulder to see if any lights have come on since I locked the front door, when I realize they haven't, I let out a sigh of relief and look down. I stare at my bare, dirty feet, then scenes from last night explode inside my head and the smell of blood hits me.

The blood is stuck to my clothes and skin, a clear note of what I've done.

In my right hand, my phone vibrates non-stop.

I crush the urge to answer the call and throw the device away, it hits the wall and falls to the floor.

My parents have an important place in society, a place inherited from my father's family, a place my mother will never relinquish, a position I have never had the option of denying. To all the important people in San Diego, I am Gutemberg Ramsey, a promising lawyer with a penchant for dangerous sports, fast romances and a born activist. To the underprivileged part of West City, a place we call the Hill, I'm the right-hand man of the local drug dealer.

Midnight, like me, had no intention of entering the criminal underworld.

As it happens, everything changed when Blake died, his half-brother on his father's side and the former head of the Colina drug trade. He had just found out about his brother when he was brutally murdered in front of us. Midnight and I watched his last breaths like the two scared kids we were until reality hit.

A man had been murdered in front of us! I panicked even with all the weed I'd smoked.

He said I could leave, it wasn't my fight and I didn't have to keep my promise.

But he was my childhood friend, his mother had just died of cancer and I couldn't leave him alone.

We both did what needed to be done, we buried his brother in a junkyard and he took over the leadership of the Hill. At first, neither of us knew what to do, Blake's men were loyal and didn't take well to the excuse we'd created, but Timmy helped us, for some reason Blake told him about his younger brother and he managed to convince the others of our story.

If he suspects his boss is dead, he doesn't let on. But I know it's only a matter of time before the story hits the fan and comes back to bite us.

I close my eyes for a second and feel the night breeze.

"Are you hurt?" The question catches me off guard, especially since the person responsible for it should be on the other side of town, not here. I open my eyes slowly and look at Midnight, a quick assessment and I see that he's not much better than me in terms of appearance. His hair is greasy, stuck to his forehead, his face contains so many scratches and bruises that I hardly recognize him, then there are his clothes, the blue blouse is practically covered in blood.

"What happened?" I say, looking around. He shouldn't be here, it wasn't part of the plan.

"Sanches is dead, Timmy is hurt and I'm not in the mood to talk. Get in the car."

"What do you mean Sanches is dead? The guy's an animal, the strongest man you've got."

He closes his eyes, his upper lip quivers.

"He was. He was the strongest man I had. Now, stop talking and get in the car."

I stare at him for a second longer, until I decide it's not a prank and run to pick up my broken cell phone from the ground and climb into the car.

The road is governed by a suffocating, stinking silence.

The man next to me is lost in his own head, reliving scenes I'm not sure I want to hear. He's not Huxley now, my childhood friend, he's Midnight through and through. Dark and cold. I've already drawn my line and I don't want to go any further, pushing for answers and details, even though nights like this will be in my future and I can't help it.

Contrary to what I imagined, we didn't go straight back to the house on the hill, but to his grandmother's old house and all I can imagine is the worst.

"Hey." I call out as he turns off the car, grabbing his arm. What are we doing here?" I press, checking the surroundings. He takes a little longer than usual, but eventually reveals that he left Timmy here. "What if someone sees you?

"So what? This is my house, Phantom. Nobody knows about my connection with the drug trade."

Snort.

"No, but we don't know if anyone saw us that night." He pulls his arm out of my grip and stares at me with half-closed eyes.

"I grew up in this neighbourhood, I played with these people's children and grandchildren, so even though some didn't think I was worthy enough to share the sidewalk because I was adopted, no one's going to lift a finger and say I'm the head of an organization now. Everyone thinks I've spent the last few years traveling the world, not on the dirty, poor side of town."

"You put a lot of faith in these people."

"The bet of it, my friend. I lost faith a long time ago."

I stare at his back as he gets out of the car and disappears into the darkness, until I see him jump over the wall. I roll my eyes.

Bastard.

He was smart enough to park at the back of the house, where few or no neighbors can catch us, but my intuition tells me to stay alert.

"Shit." I mutter before getting out of the car and taking the same route.

I leap over the wall with ease, landing in the vast garden. I take a brief look at the rose bed that used to adorn almost the entire wall from the inside and smile when I realize that, despite all the time, my friend has paid someone to look after the place.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, starting to regret hitting the wall, and try to get the little shit to work. The screen is ruined with dark spots and cracks.

When I realize there's no use for the phone anymore, I walk up to the house, which is actually a two-storey mansion, and look around, recalling the memory of the place. The entrance has two columns and the architecture is reminiscent of buildings in Ancient Greece.

I take a step inside, and Timmy's shout stops me in my tracks.

Damn.

When Midnight said he was wounded, I expected a bullet hole in his legs or arms, but this kind of scream sounds like something bigger and more painful.

"Get the fuck in!" Midnight shouts and grabs me by the shirt inside, slamming the door behind me hard. My eyes go from him to the bloodied man on the sofa.

"He doesn't look well," I say and then regret it, realizing how pale he is. "We need to call the doctor," I add a second later, walking over to kneel in front of Timmy and lifting up his shirt to check the wound. It looks bad. Very ugly.

"Really? And say what? Look, I need you to come to my house and sew up my friend's bullet wound? Don't be an idiot, Gutemberg." Midnight explodes, throwing daggers at me with her eyes. I clench my fists and lunge at him.

"What did you call me?" I push his chest back.

"You heard me! All you do is complain and whine like a child ever since you joined the organization, living your double life as if there were no consequences. But you know what? I gave you a choice, so you have to deal with the consequences!" he snarls every word, apparently it was all stored up and eating him up inside.

I clap my hands, looking as mad as he does.

"I did all this for you, you ungrateful bastard! You were my best friend and you needed me."

"No, you're not going to blame me so easily. All you ever wanted was an excuse not to follow in your father's footsteps, so you followed me when you realized that the only way to escape your programmed little life was to become an outlaw!

" And you just accepted the legacy of a brother you barely knew out of love? Give me a break, Huxley. You're as selfish as I am. Your excuse of avenging your dead brother is just to disguise your lust for blood and destruction, you sick bastard." I'm sure I pressed the wrong key as soon as the last word came out of my mouth, especially since I promised never to talk about your psychotic tendencies. However, we are interrupted by Timmy, who collapses on the floor trying to get up.

"Shit. " Midnight mutters, rushing to Timmy's aid.

"Is Blake dead?" Midnight and I lock in place, both kneeling beside the bloodied body of our companion. Our gazes meet, and then I face Timmy, nodding in confirmation. He curses and curses, but allows us to help him back onto the sofa. "Let's find a doctor," I say.

"I'll call Darius." Midnight, he mutters, taking his cell phone out of his pocket and walking away towards the kitchen. His posture is tense as he types on his cell phone, but this is our best option. Until three months ago, we had a doctor we could trust, but he was killed during a poorly organized raid, and we haven't found a new replacement. Darius was the doctor who looked after

I bet he thinks so, maybe I should tell him about your meetings with the professor then? Tarnish the pure image he has of his little untouchable princess, but what would I get out of it?

I shrug in place.

"Promise you won't go after her."

No.

"What are you talking about, man?"

"Promise me that if I die, you won't go near her again."

I frown.

He can't be serious.

"Please, Ghost. You owe me."

I close my eyes.

Damn it.

"All right, if you die, I'll let your little princess go."

Don't fucking die!

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Darius arrives and manages to stop Timmy's bleeding and remove the bullet, but we need to get him to the hospital because of the amount of blood he's lost. Midnight pays a small fortune for the whole bullet thing to be ignored, and no staff member looks in our direction twice, just as I decide I've pushed my luck enough, I hear a nurse speak my father's name and I have to stop to threaten her. Fortunately, all goes well.

Except for the nurse, of course.

She's sure to resign and move to another country, maybe another continent, just to get away from me.

When I get home, I take a quick shower and make myself a sandwich.

Without a cell phone, I surrender to my laptop and access Davina's social network. I call her to chat as soon as she's online, but for her I'm not Gutemberg or Fantasma, just Sissy.

A nice, introverted girl.

The ideal fake to fool foolish girls.

"Well, let's see what you got up to today, little mouse," I say to myself, typing the question I've been dying to know all night.

"Have you finally given in to your teacher?"

Send.