Chapter 7: Fear.
James sat in the back seat, staring out the window as the car cruised through the empty streets.
Hans drove in silence for a while, the steady hum of the engine filling the car.
Then, glancing at James through the rearview mirror, he asked, "How's your little brother doing?"
James sighed, leaning his head back against the seat. "He's okay," he muttered. "It's been a long day. I just want to check the shipment and get some rest." He closed his eyes briefly before adding, "Do I have anything tomorrow?"
Hans shook his head. "No. Tomorrow is all free for you."
"Good," James murmured, letting his exhaustion settle in.
Outside, the port lights glowed in the distance, the silent giants of cargo ships waiting in the dark waters. The night stretched on, quiet and heavy, as they continued toward their destination.
Not long after, they arrived at the vast port situated outside the city.
Hans navigated carefully through the maze of containers, the car's headlights cutting through the dimly lit paths. The salty scent of the sea mixed with the faint smell of oil and rust.
After a few minutes of winding through the port, they finally reached their destination. A lone man stood waiting before a single container, his figure barely illuminated by a flickering overhead light. He stood still, hands in his pockets, eyes watching as the car came to a stop.
James exhaled, straightening up. "Let's get this over with."
Hans nodded, shutting off the engine. The night was quiet, but something about the air felt heavy.
As James stepped out of the car, the cold air hit him suddenly, carrying the salty scent of the sea. He pulled his arms closer to his body for warmth as he walked toward the man, who also looked like he was freezing.
"Bernadt," James spoke, breaking the icy silence.
"James, good to see you." They shook hands.
"Any problems on the way?" James asked, but his instincts suddenly screamed that something was very wrong.
Looking around, he noticed something strange—there wasn't a single worker in sight. The port was usually bustling even at night, filled with workers moving cargo and operating heavy machinery. But now, it was completely silent.
When he glanced back at Hans, his expression confirmed that something was off.
"I'm sorry, James..."
"What?" He turned back, but it was already too late.
Sirens blared, and blue and red lights flooded the entire port as multiple cars turned the corner.
"Hands in the air!"
What the fuck...
Within seconds, James and Hans were surrounded by a dozen armed officers, their vests clearly displaying the letters NSBI.
"Karma, James, karma." A voice said mockingly.
James turned to see an agent stepping forward with a smirk. "Oh, if it isn't Hana Frostin. May I ask what exactly is going on?" He locked eyes with her.
Hana walked over to the container and tapped on its side. "First of all, you threatened me, and, well, I happened to have a voice recorder on me. That's solid evidence for your arrest." She laughed. "And then there's this container. What's inside? Drugs? Weapons? Open it up."
Without hesitation, two agents rushed to the container, cutting the lock.
"Open sesame," Hana said with a smirk. But her smile quickly faded.
The container was empty. Not just empty—spotless.
"What the fuck?" She muttered, stepping inside and running her hand along the walls. It was completely clean.
James, who still had his hands raised, suddenly started laughing. And this time, his laughter was genuine.
The truth was, he had specifically ordered an empty container. His mother wanted to grow flowers in a controlled environment, and a shipping container was perfect for that.
His laughter grew louder, full of life, as he realized they had immediately assumed he was smuggling something.
"Well then, I suppose we're free to go?" He asked, lowering his hands.
"No," the now visibly frustrated agent snapped. "You don't have a firearm permit, yet you're carrying a gun."
Shit.
James had completely forgotten that he had taken Hans's gun earlier and had been holding onto it the entire time.
"James Bellini, you are under arrest for illegal possession of a firearm."
The handcuffs clicked around his wrists, and they were about to drag him away when he looked back one last time.
"It was nice knowing you, Bernadt." He said, locking eyes with him. Bernadt collapsed to the ground in fear. "Hans, I'll handle this on my own. Get some rest."
Hans, who had been ready to slaughter the entire unit on his own, hesitated. Then, at James's words, he turned away and got back into the car.
But he does not handle it well.
As soon as they threw James into one of the cars, a sack was pulled over his head. But they didn't take him to the police station.
Instead, they drove him to the outskirts of the city, to an NSBI interrogation facility.
And so began the nightmare that James had never experienced before.
First, they stripped him completely naked, and then the first phase of the nightmare started.
They beat him until the skin on his back split open, then rubbed salt into his wounds. After that came the high-pressure washer, blasting his back with unbearable force.
Once they were done, they dragged him into a basement, chaining him to a chair. That was when the second phase of the nightmare began.
"Well, not so cocky now, are you? Cat got your tongue?" Hana asked, standing in front of him while two other agents prepared a metal case.
By now, James was only fighting to stay conscious.
Count... One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand...
"Should we waterboard him, or...?" One of the agents started, but Hana was already holding a small needle.
She grabbed James's thumb and slowly pushed the needle under his fingernail, driving it as deep as possible, ensuring maximum pain.
But James didn't make a sound because he had prepared for this exact scenario long ago.
One of his teeth was a fake one with a tiny capsule filled with a fast-acting anesthetic. The moment he bit down on it, the drug took effect, numbing all sensation. But while he felt nothing, his body reacted—his heart rate skyrocketed.
"You're tougher than I thought..." Hana muttered before dumping a bucket of ice-cold water over him.
It was as if James came back to life in an instant. His head jerked up, his breath ragged. His swollen, bloodied face was barely recognizable, and his gaze remained fixed on the floor.
Hana placed a chair in front of him and pulled out her phone, showing him pictures.
Pictures of his little brother. Lying in a hospital bed.
"We're not the kind of cops who play fair," she said, gripping James's hair and forcing him to look at her. "Because we're dealing with people like you. So you will answer my questions... or your dear little brother will meet an unfortunate end."
"Do you understand? He... will...die."
James lifted his head, his bloodied lips curling into a smirk. His swollen eyes locked onto Hana's.
"Go... fuck...yourself."
The entire room burst into laughter.
Then came the first punch.
Then the third. The fourth.
And then, once again, the ice-cold water.
Hana grabbed James by the hair again, lifting his head.
"Where's your wrath, James? Threaten me! Tell me you'll kill my family—say it!"
She struck him again, hard enough to knock the chair over. But she didn't stop. She pulled him back up and continued.
"Threaten me! Show me your rage! Show me!"
Another punch followed. By now, the room was painted in blood.
Count... One thousand, two thousand...
"Get his mother," Hana ordered suddenly. "That bitch who raised a monster like him doesn't deserve to live."
"But..." One of the agents hesitated, glancing at the others.
" Go! " Hana screamed.
As the agent reached for the door handle, James tried to speak.
"You—"
A strike from Hana cut him off.
"What?! What will happen?!" she yelled, hitting him again.
James spat out blood, his vision blurred, but he forced himself to gather every ounce of strength he had left.
"Your phone will ring..."
"What?" Hana stared at him in confusion.
James smiled at her, looking directly into her eyes—and for the first time, she felt fear.
How? After all this pain, how could he still smile and look her in the eye? How?
She turned around, her eyes locking onto the table where James's gun lay. Without hesitation, she grabbed it, spinning back toward him and pressing the barrel firmly between his eyes.
"Hana!" One of the agents shouted.
"What?!" She snapped, gripping the gun tighter. "He's a monster! He's Satan himself!" She pressed the muzzle harder, her hands trembling with rage.
"You can't kill him!"
"Then what the fuck have we been doing until now?!" Her voice shook with fury. "Goodbye, James Bellini."
Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Then, the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking echoed through the room.
"Put it down, Hana..."
She froze.
"Klen, what the fuck are you doing?!" Another agent had drawn his weapon, tension filling the air.
James coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he let out a weak, yet mocking laugh.
"Fear..." He spat at the barrel of the gun. "The feeling of fear... I'm James Bellini, you fucking bitch..."
Then, the sharp buzz of a phone shattered the silence.
Hana's grip loosened, her fury trembling in her fingers as she reached for the device.
"What? But he's right here in front of me! We could end this—" She fell silent, her expression darkening as she listened.
Her grip on the phone tightened. Then, her hand began to shake—not from anger, but from disbelief.
"Yes, sir," she finally muttered, her voice hollow. "I apologize."
She lowered the weapon. The other agents hesitated, then did the same.
"Clean him up... and let him go."
"What?! But he—"
"That was headquarters." Her voice was cold, bitter. "Get his stuff and let him go."
They did as ordered, cleaning up James as best they could, though the bruises and wounds still painted his skin like a grotesque masterpiece. When they handed back his clothes, he dressed slowly, every movement stiff and deliberate, as if savoring each second.
Then, without a word, he sat down again.
The weight in the air didn't lift. If anything, it grew heavier. The agents exchanged uneasy glances, but James remained still, his head tilted slightly, his fingers brushing against his pocket where was a coin.
Hana watched him, her grip still tight on her gun, her knuckles white.
"What the hell are you waiting for?"
A slow, eerie smile.
"I forgive you."
His voice was raw, like gravel scraping against metal, yet those three words cut through the silence like a blade.
Hana's grip on the gun twitched. "What?"
James raised his head, every movement slow and deliberate.
"I said... I forgive you."
Something shifted in the air. A cold, invisible presence.
Hana felt it, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something she couldn't quite name. A sickness. A wrongness.
"You think this is a joke?" She spat, her voice tight.
James let out a weak chuckle, his body shuddering. "No,... I think this is fate ."
"Head or tails?"
Hana's brow furrowed. "What?"
James flicked the coin into the air, the soft ting of metal filling the dead air as it spun, weightless for a moment before landing in his palm. He looked down at it, his expression unreadable.
Then he laughed.
Not a weak chuckle. Not the arrogant scoff he had given before. No. This was something else entirely. A sound too hollow to be real. Too sharp to be sane.
Hana's stomach twisted.
James lifted his gaze, locking eyes with her once more. "It's tails, I guess we'll find out soon.
Then, slowly he got up and he was gone on his own.
But the room was still filled with him.
The scent of blood. The echo of his laughter.