The Assassin's Tree

( 4 )

We had been on the road for about 2 hours now. I had been sleeping on and off, waking up every time the car hit a rough bump, so about every 15 minutes.

Morte was quiet most of the ride, really only speaking to yell at idiotic drivers, which there were plenty of, or to tell me that we were stopping for gas.

I was bored, and tired, with nothing but my own thoughts to occupy myself.

"We're almost to Albany, about 15 more minutes and we'll be in the city." Morte murmured gruffly, keeping his eyes on the road.

I sighed lightly, glad that this painstakingly awkward ride was almost over. "Wonderful.. So, let me know if I've got this right. You live in Albany, but you work in NYC? Isn't that an exhausting commute?" I was just trying to make conversation at this point. He was being way too quiet. He wasn't even making fun of me. The silence scared me.

"It's a ridiculous drive, isn't it? I'm glad I don't live in Albany." Morte's words hung heavy in the air. I looked over at him, taking a moment to process what he said. "What?" No, the moment of processing didn't help me understand any better. And the dark smirk on his lips didn't make the feeling of terror in my stomach any better. 

"You're not really that thick, are you?" He laughed coldly, reaching for something under his seat. I saw a flash of silver. A gun. What the fuck?

He pointed the pistol at me, that wicked smile still on his lips. "Now. When we get there, you're going to cooperate. I'm getting paid a lot of money for this. And if you blow it? I'll kill you myself. And it won't be pretty."

My hands were shaking, and all I could do was stare down the barrel of the gun. I had a hard time finding my voice. "You won't shoot me. Not now, anyways. Something tells me your boss wouldn't be thrilled about that."

He shot me a sharp glare, however, he lowered the gun away from my face. "You're right. But if you mess this up, I won't hesitate." His voice was bitter, sending chills down my spine. I could tell he was dead serious.

This was just really not my week. I wish I had known that one little slip up would have caused all of this. "Well, since I know I'm fucked either way, can I ask you something?"

Morte frowned, but hesitantly nodded. "Three questions. That counted as one, so you're down to two." I rolled my eyes. Geez. What a nice guy.

"Okay, whatever. Who are you taking me to? I think I deserve to know that much." I stared out the window. We were in the city of Albany now, tall buildings and skyscrapers surrounded us now.

"You pissed a certain Mendoza off with your little stunt the other day." He laughed a little. "Let me tell you, he knows how to barter." I shuddered. I could only wonder how much this betrayal was worth.

"Okay then... Last question. Was Tris in on this?" I looked over at Morte, not really sure what kind of answer I wanted to hear. He seemed at a loss for words all of a sudden.

He took a moment before answering. "Yes, and no. He knew I needed you at that nightclub, but he didn't know the reason. And I certainly didn't tell him to do anything like.. that.. to you. That, I'm sorry for. This, not so much."

I just stared at him, trying to process everything. I was just in a stage of disbelief. "I hate all of you." I murmured grumpily. How the hell did I keep getting myself into these situations?

Oh, I don't know. The little voice in my head answered. Maybe because you're a fucking idiot? Thank you, voice in my head. I wasn't actually looking for an answer, but I already knew that.

"Ah, fuck." Morte suddenly yanked the wheel, pulling the car off into a dark alleyway, almost crashing the lamborghini into a dumpster as he slammed on the brakes. I jerked forward, hitting the dashboard hard.. with my face. He laughed at me.

"Shut up!" I rubbed my sore nose, unbuckling and looking over at Morte, who had the gun held up towards my face again. "Get out of the car. If you run, I'll shoot you. And if I were you, I wouldn't test it." He threw open his door, quickly climbing out of the car.

I hesitated, before opening up my door and hopping down out of the car, looking around the alleyway.

That's when my eyes landed on him. Dean Mendoza was standing a few feet away.

"We meet again, eh, Leon?"