The Underworld

chapter twenty nine

Markus' POV

It's been three weeks since I've visited Alaina at the hospital. From the last time I saw her, she was still recovering well physically. Mentally was a different story. What he did to her was—

I tried to make her feel as comfortable as possible. I tried to make each day I saw her bearable. She didn't deserve none of what he did to her.

Not only had he left her hospitalized, but she was—

I dragged a hand through my hair. I would've killed him right then and there if I had been there at any of those times he hurt her. With my hands at either side of the sink, I looked down at the faucet. There was nothing more I wanted than to put a bullet through Louis' skull. Only after I had broken every bone in his body, cut away each finger and the organ that 'declared' him a man. Only when he would beg for his life would I then take it away from him.

But even then, he didn't deserve death. He deserved to be punished over and over again. He deserved to be brought so close to death that it would become his only salvation from what I would put him through.

I tightened my grip on the sink. Not yet. No matter how much he deserved everything that would come for him and more. I couldn't do any of it yet. There was still so much to do. But soon.

I left the bathroom as my thoughts went back to Alaina.

They would discharge her today and bring her back to that bastard's house. Fucking monsters is what Louis and Ralph are. I loosened my fists before I had the chance to punch a wall.

I wanted to be there. I wanted to see her after not being able to for so long. I had gotten more assignments the past couple of months. Finding information about the rising American gang like about its leader—Lupin they called him—and its members, as well as securing shipment of drugs and weapons—among other things.

I grabbed a black shirt and placed it on, followed by a brown jacket and boots. After getting my keys, I left my apartment.

• • •

My boots made crunching sounds as I walked across the rocky parking lot. It stopped when I passed through the gated walls and onto the grass field. I switched the two bouquets I held on my left to my right.

I walked by each row of stones. Some had flowers or a sentiment from their loved ones, others didn't. Most that didn't never got anything. I noticed it each time I came to visit.

There's a saying that people remember you once you're gone. That they regret of not spending as much time with you and regret not doing or saying what they wished they would've to you. It's how most well-known people got recognized for the things they did.

But that doesn't happen always.

Those who don't receive anything after death probably deserved it. They probably did something and got away with it, or at least, whatever they did might've affected someone who no one else would have notice that something had happened to them.

As I passed by a grave, I remember meeting the daughter of the deceased. She came only once, empty handed, to visit her mother. That was the first and last time I saw her.

She stood over her mother's grave with her hands in her pockets. She stared and stared, and never said anything.

I wondered what was going on through her mind, but quickly pushed the thought away. My mind usually liked to wander to other places when it wanted to relieve itself from stress.

I had a shitty week and even after I had gotten away from my problems, I still thought of what I had to do to fix shit that wasn't even my fault. I had been assigned with a few other men to watch over the drug shipment heading to Mexico. The ones