It didn’t feel like him back there.
Like sothing else had taken control of his body, guiding his hands, pulling the trigger.
And then, the scene flashed in his mind again.
The police chief’s eyes as he had pushed them in, his fingers sinking deep into his eyes.The sensation of it, the warmth.
The gunshot.
Chief’s skull splitting open, pieces of his brain splattered across the walls, the floor, on Jas himself.
The woman.
She had nothing to do with his revenge. Nothing.
And yet, he had killed her too.
But the worst part that made his stomach hurt even more, that made his breath hitch was that in that mont…
He had felt nothing…no that wasn’t even true.
He had felt sothing.
Relief.
And beneath that,buried deep but undeniable, was sothing even worse.
Happiness.
The trigger had been light. The kickback had been firm.
And the mont the bullets tore through them, the way their bodies jerked, the silence that followed, it had been satisfying.
Their deaths had brought him happiness.
A smile…a real, genuine smile had curled on his lips as he watched them collapse to the floor.
"Jas?" Hector’s voice pulled him back.
He blinked, realizing he had been staring at his own hands. The scent of blood and the taste of it hit him again.
He turned his head slightly.
Then, he bent over and vomited.
His whole body trembled as everything ca out.
Hector took a step forward "Jas—"
Jas held up a hand, stopping him.
His breathing was ragged. His body felt cold.
The blood on his hands wasn’t his and yet, it felt like it was sinking into his skin.
Like it would never co off.
He looked down at his hands again, the blood staining his skin, and sothing stirred inside him, sothing he didn’t want to acknowledge.
The disgust wasn’t there. No, there was sothing else, a pull. A hunger.
His body trembled, not from fear, but from sothing far deeper.
A cold sweat broke out across his skin, his chest tight with the weight of what he had just done. But beneath the tremors, a warmth spread through him.
A quiet, dangerous warmth. The kind that spreads through you when you’ve tasted what it’s like to hold soone’s life in your hands and feel the power of taking it away.
The feeling of the gun in his hand, the way his finger had pressed the trigger, light, so light. Almost too easy. The violence, the blood, the shattering of lives, it had been so satisfying, so sweet. And now, standing here in the aftermath, the adrenaline was starting to fade, but the rush…the power…was still there.
Why do I feel this way?
He couldn’t stop asking himself that, over and over, the question echoing in his mind.
What had he beco? What had he done?
The chief’s skull splitting open, the way the blood had splattered across the walls.
The woman, her body falling as if she were nothing, nothing but a casualty of his wrath.
But what haunted him the most was not the violence, not the killing.
No. It was the feeling he had, standing over them as they died. He had felt relief, a quiet peace that washed over him the mont they took their final breaths. He had been so angry, so broken.
But when the blood flowed, when life drained from their bodies, it was like a weight lifted from his shoulders.
He wasn’t just taking revenge, he was taking control. He was the one deciding who lived, who died. He was the one who got to decide who deserved to suffer and who didn’t.
And in that mont, he felt powerful, like no other ti.
He had known, he had felt, that his actions were justified.
He staggered back, his legs shaky, his breath coming in short bursts.
He wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up again or if he was going to break down entirely.
What was wrong with him?
This wasn’t supposed to feel good. It wasn’t supposed to feel right. He had always believed in justice, in the law. But now, standing here with their blood on his hands, he realized that he was the law.
He had been the judge, the jury, the executioner.
And the truth, no matter how much he tried to deny it, was that it felt right.
The idea that he had control over life and death…it consud him.
The thrill of knowing that the end of soone’s life could be decided by a single decision, by a single pull of the trigger, filled him with an unexpected sense of freedom.
In that mont, he had tasted the freedom to decide who would live and who would die.
But I’m not like this. I shouldn’t be like this.
The thought fluttered in his mind, but it was weak. Too weak to fight the truth that was already setting in.
The truth that, no matter how much he hated it, he was addicted to it. The rush of power, of control, of the ability to bring an end to soone’s life with just a thought. He had tasted it, and there was no going back now.
"Jas…" Hector’s voice broke through his thoughts again.
Jas didn’t look at him. He couldn’t.
"I—" He tried to speak, but the words didn’t co. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel anymore.
Instead, he just stood there, trembling, his hands still stained. And deep down, he knew he had crossed a line.
A part of him couldn’t help but feel…alive.
He steadied himself. "I’m…good."
Hector didn’t respond, just opened the door for him.
As Jas sat into the car, the scene replayed in his mind again. The way he had cut off his ear and tongue, it was brutal, sothing he never thought he would do.
"It was all for Rafael." Hector’s voice ca again.
Jas looked at him, his vision slightly dizzy.
"Don’t think about it. You did what you did, and it’s just the beginning. You know it, Jas. And I’m happy you finally showed who you really are. You showed them the Bellinis’ worth."
Showed them the Bellinis’ worth…
Was that what it had really been about? It hadn’t felt like just proving a point. It felt like sothing more, sothing deeper that he couldn’t quite grasp. Sothing dark.
He exhaled sharply, wiping a hand over his face.
"What am I becoming?"
Hector simply watched him, as if waiting for Jas to find the answer himself.
"You’re becoming who you were always ant to be." Hector said quietly. "Who you were ant to be, Jas. You can’t keep fighting what’s inside you. Not anymore."
That sense of power, of finally being in control. The emptiness that had lingered afterward wasn’t the sa as guilt. No, it was sothing else, sothing he hadn’t expected to feel.
Hector glanced at him. "You don’t have a choice." He said firmly. "Not anymore. The world doesn’t give you choices when you’re at the top. You can’t live like how you used to be, especially after all of this, you are truly becoming soone greater than everybody expected. And I will be on your side even if we are against God himself."
Jas didn’t respond. He couldn’t.. The feeling inside him was it really power? Or was it sothing else, sothing more dangerous, that had awakened in him that day?
He didn’t know. But deep down, he understood one thing, there was no turning back now. He had crossed a line, and everything after this mont would only lead him deeper into the darkness.
Jas took a slow breath, fingers curling at his sides. He had been expecting guilt, Jas tilted his head slightly.
"Hector," Jas said smoothly, "are you afraid of ?"
"I’d be an idiot if I wasn’t."
Jas considered that for a mont, then nodded. "Good."
Hector just looked at Jas, his eye was far worse than ever.
People say eyes tell the truth, but Jas’ eyes were telling sothing different.
"When people fear you." Jas said. "they don’t try to control you. They don’t question you. They don’t stand in your way." He turned slightly, just enough to glance back at Hector. "Isn’t that what matters in the end?"
Hector studied him, sothing unreadable in his gaze. Maybe it was uncertainty. Maybe it was a realization.
"Maybe." Hector admitted. Then, after a pause, "But if everyone fears you… who’s left to trust?"
Then, without looking at Hector, he spoke.
"Death."
"What?"
"Death." He repeated. "The only one that trusts ."
Silence settled between them, heavier than before. Hector shifted slightly, the weight of Jas’s words pressing down on him in a way he couldn’t quite shake.
Jas had built sothing no one else could.
He had stepped into a world that demanded everything and gave nothing in return.
And now, standing on the edge of it all, the only certainty left was the one thing that had never failed him.
Death didn’t betray. Death didn’t lie. Death didn’t hesitate.
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