Inside the dimly lit pipe, with the corpse sprawled in the water and Henry’s arm supporting my weight, my vision blurred. That was when I saw it—a dark silhouette snagged on a concrete protrusion, in a spot where the stream was narrower and the current slower.
“Henry… the backpack,” I hissed, pointing toward the corner. “Get it.”
“Forget the gear, Luke. We need to go,” Henry shot back, his eyes scanning the tunnel behind us.
“No… my phone is in there. There are more photos… more evidence. It’s waterproof; it’s not ruined. Get it!”
Henry sighed but knew the value of that data. He splashed through the murky water, grabbed the soaked bag, and threw it against his own chest. Then, he hoisted me up again, with my arm over his shoulders, and we began the grueling climb out.
“Artem and Jonathan have already left,” Henry whispered as we approached the exit. “We have to vanish before they come looking for the big guy because he’s not answering the radio.”
We emerged from the pipe into the cold night air. We crossed the woods in silence, under the mantle of darkness, with the only sound being the dry leaves under our feet and my heavy breathing. Every step was like a needle pressing into my side. When we finally reached the car, hidden under the canopy of trees, I was nearly collapsing.
Henry practically dumped me into the passenger seat and threw the backpack in the back. He jumped into the driver’s seat but didn’t start the engine immediately. He turned on the interior light for a second, staring at me with a grimace.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“I think I chipped a tooth,” I muttered, touching my swollen jaw. “My face is all messed up, and my ribs… they’re screaming. But I’m alive.”
Henry’s expression darkened with concern. “Take off your shirt. Let me see those ribs.”
I groaned in pain as I pulled the damp, filthy fabric over my head. My skin was raw and very red where the guard’s elbows had struck, but to my surprise, there were no deep purple bruises yet. Henry leaned in, his fingers pressing lightly on the area. I winced, but it was just sharp muscular pain.
“You got lucky,” Henry concluded, leaning back in the seat. “It’s just red. No fracture. You’re going to be sore as hell tomorrow, but nothing is broken.”
He looked at me for a long moment, a rare, genuine smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
“You did very well, kid. Truly. Better than many professionals I know. You just need a shower now… because you literally smell like a sewer.”
I let out a weak, painful laugh. “Let’s just go. A shower is all I need right now.”
Henry nodded, turned the key, and the engine came to life. He kept the headlights off until we reached the main road, then accelerated, leaving the slaughterhouse behind.
“Next stop, Artem’s house,” Henry said, shifting into third gear.
The journey was spent in absolute silence, interrupted only by the sound of the engine and my heavy breathing. When we finally arrived, the gatekeeper opened the gate immediately, as if he were already on standby. Henry parked the car near the main entrance and, under the porch lights, the scene paralyzed me.
Artem was there, standing, waiting for us. But to my surprise, he wasn’t alone. Beside him, three women watched the car park: Vanessa, Sofia, and Olivia. Apparently, the girls’ night had ended at Vanessa’s house, and their peace had ended too.
As soon as I opened the door and stepped out of the car, Vanessa was the first to come running toward me. The moment she saw my face—the cut on my cheek, the swollen lip, and the clothes soaked in sludge and blood—her eyes filled with tears instantly. Sofia stared at me with a dark, almost indecipherable look, while Olivia seemed to be in a state of shock, her hand over her mouth.
I was messed up, and my appearance made that obvious.
Vanessa didn’t say a single word; she just wrapped me in a desperate hug. I felt a sharp pain in my ribs and face, but I endured it, closing my eyes as tears finally began to fall. I accepted her hug, feeling the warmth I had lacked in that frozen duct.
“I’m sorry…” I whispered against her hair. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”
Apparently, when Artem returned alone, Vanessa pressured him until he had no choice but to tell the truth. Maybe he just wanted to give the good news to his daughter, but the delay in our return turned hope into torturous worry.
“Don’t apologize, Luke,” Vanessa replied, her voice choked as she pulled away slightly to hold my face with her trembling hands. “I know you just didn’t want to worry me.”
Artem approached us with slow steps. Henry, who was watching everything from behind, leaning against the car, gave a firm nod and flashed a tired smile at the old man.
“We did it, Artem,” Henry said, a cold satisfaction in his voice.
“Get inside,” Artem ordered, though there was visible relief in his shoulders. “Luke needs to tell us everything that happened and, for God’s sake, boy, you need a shower. You stink from miles away.”
He leaned in a bit, and in a tone that only I and Vanessa could hear, he let out:
“You have my blessing to get married.”
Vanessa blushed instantly, looking away, but a small smile appeared amidst the tears. As we turned to go inside, I stopped for a second in front of Sofia.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice low, but her eyes carrying a genuine concern I rarely saw in her.
“I am,” I replied with a tired nod. “And thank you… for what you did earlier. For everything.”
“What the hell happened to you?” Olivia asked, finally finding her voice, looking at my bruises.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night finally being shared.
“I’ll explain to everyone. Just give me a few minutes to get this smell of death off me.”
—
### POV: Luke
Vanessa led me to a bathroom and left new, clean clothes; mine were rotten, destined for the trash. When the door closed, I was finally alone. In the shower, the hot water hitting my body didn’t seem enough to wash away what I was feeling. The scenes from the tunnel returned like flashes of a nightmare: the sound of the struggle, the smell of ammonia, and, above all, the guard’s face. It was the first time I saw someone die in front of me. Even knowing it was him or me, I would have to carry that burden.
I washed myself several times, scrubbing my skin until it was red, feeling that the smell of the sewer was ingrained not just in my skin, but in my memory. I only came out when I was sure I was clean. I dried myself with difficulty, every move making my ribs protest, and put on the new clothes.
When I reached the living room, the atmosphere was that of a war meeting. Sofia was already there with a first-aid kit in hand. Even after the shower, the wounds needed care to prevent infections, especially the deep cut on my cheek. She made me sit beside her and, with a delicacy that contrasted with her usual manner, began to treat the wounds.
With Artem and Vanessa’s permission, I decided to tell Olivia and Sofia everything. My deplorable state demanded an honest explanation.
“In the end,” I concluded, feeling the sting of the antiseptic on my skin, “the plan worked. We have evidence to bury Jonathan forever.”
“Jonathan is probably on a plane right now, traveling on business out of the country,” Artem commented, analyzing the situation. “He should only be back at the end of the week.”
“When he lands, he’ll be arrested,” Henry added, a glint of determination in his eyes. “And we’ll get that permanent visa for you, Artem.”
I remembered a crucial detail:
“Next weekend is my duel with his son. Jonathan will definitely be there. We can set the ambush then.”
Henry nodded thoughtfully.
“It’s a good idea. It gives me time to assemble the team and surround all the exits. We’ll take him down in front of everyone.”
Given the late hour, Henry had to go. He would take the equipment to organize the evidence and ensure everything was impeccable for the indictment. With his departure, exhaustion finally overtook me. It was decided that I would sleep there. Olivia and Sofia joined Vanessa in her room, and I was settled into the guest room.
I lay down, but sleep was light and fragmented. In the middle of the night, I heard the slight creak of the door opening. A delicate silhouette crossed the gloom. It was Vanessa. Without saying a word, she approached and lay down beside me, seeking my warmth.
We stayed in silence for a while, just listening to each other’s breathing. The weight of that night was too great to be carried alone, and having her there, in the silence of the room…
“Luke.” Vanessa was the first to speak.
