His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

Felix POV

The

neon sign above the run doen motel held some weird words: “Vacancy? Maybe.” It was a fitting introduction to the place, a monument to faded glory now teetering on the edge of rain. We emerged from the truck. The expensive car was bleak against the backdrop of peeling paint and rusting fire escapes. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

The place smelled. Like cheap booze, and cigarettes, and sewage

Nick took point, deciding to lead the operation. I wasn’t operated in conversing with people. I was only interested in fucking the man up.

He approached the hunched figure behind the dusty reception counter, a man whose weary gaze matched the motel’s desolation. He looked high, too. His hair was frazzled and his teeth yellowing.

“Afternoon,” Nick greeted, his voice laced with a friendliness that made me think of how good an actor he could be. “We’re looking for someone. A fella named Sam?”

The man squinted, suspicion clouding his gaze. “Don’t know no Sam.” His voice rasped like sandpaper. The man’s eyes darted around, looking at the four of us. Four daunting men in the cramped space of the reception. I slightly revealed the gun in my pocket, which made the man quiver visibly.

My father stepped forward, his imposing stature filling the cramped lobby. “We have reason to believe he might be staying here. His tone left no room for argument. He fished his phone out from

his pocket, and showed him a picture. “You seen him around?”

The caretaker’s bravado faltered. He darted a nervous glance at the worn baseball bat propped against the counter, a silent threat easily understood. “Look, fellas, I don’t know nothin‘ about no trouble. This ain’t exactly a five–star joint, hut we keep things quiet here.”

“Quiet enough for a man running from something?” I pressed, my voice low and dangerous. The air crackled with barely contained tension

The man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing)

g like a frantic fish. “He, uh, pays extra. Keeps to himself mostly.” He wouldn’t meet our eyes, his gaze darting from face to face.

A surge of anger simmered in my gut. This pathetic excuse for a human was harboring a monster, all for a few measly bucks. I took a menacing step forward, the bat suddenly looking far more appealing.

Sensing my rising fury, Blue intervened. “Look, we just need to talk to him. It’ll be quick” His voice held a deceptive calm, but the glint in his eyes was a clear warning.

The caretaker finally caved. “Alright, alright! Room six,” he blurted, his voice cracking. “Just… don’t cause no trouble, alright?”

“Can’t promise,” I said smoothly.

Relief, sharp and unexpected, washed over me. We had a lead, a room number,

I felt adrenaline rush through me. My blood ran thick. My breath rose. My father and I looked at each other, our eyes meeting in silent understanding.

The grimy stairs groaned under our weight as we ascended, a big rush of anticipation building within me with each creaking step. My hands were itching. I clenched my fist. Reaching room six, a dingy rectangle devoid of any welcoming sign, I gave a firm rap on the weathered door. Silence, We waited, tension thick enough to chew on

Another unanswered knock later, impatience gnawed at my insides. I couldn’t wait. We had him, and now he had to pay.

My fist collided with the door in a resounding boom, splintering the wood around the flimsy lock. It gave way with a sickening crack. The lock fell to the floor, the metal making a resounded sound. We kicked the door open and we surged into the room.

The air inside was thick with the stale smell of cigarettes, A single, flickering bulb cast a dim glow on the dilapidated Interior–a hare mattress on a metal frame, a broken TV spewing static in the corner. And then there was him.

Sam.

He sat huddled on the edge of the bed, a gaunt figure dwarfed by the thin mattress. His eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and recognition, locked with

17

mine. The color drained from his face, leaving a sickly pallor. His eyes moved from me to my father. The fear on his face deepened.

He knew, Hell had come for him.

Before any of us could react, he scrambled off the bed, a desperate glint in his eyes.

“No! Please!” he croaked, his voice hoarse with fear. He lunged towards the window, the fire escape his apparent escape route. I laughed hoarsely. Stupid fucker. He thought he could run.

I reacted on pure instinct. With a speed born of righteous fury, I launched myself across the room, tackling him before he could reach the rusted metal bars. We crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, a cloud of dust billowing around us.

His strength, sapped by fear and the drugs and alcohol in his system, was no match for mine. I pinned him down, my face hovering inches from his. The man who had caused Flora so much pain was reduced to a whimpering mess, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, boy!” he tried to sound brave, but he had barely whimpered, his voice barely a whisper.

But the damage was done. The fear in his eyes, a mirror of Flora’s own past terror, fueled my rage. In that moment, her face flashed before me. The face I had seen when I had gone to her house to get her. When I had seen the slap mark on his face. The blood on her forehead,

I was her shield, her voice, her vengeance.

“You hurt her,” I growled, each word a punch in the gut. “You’ll answer for that.”

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Chapter Comments

Valen Burnet Lauletta

there there are just some parts that I’m struggling with like he said he searched for her being in the Mafia and them never really going far I would think that he would have found them specially since they were no bodies, and if he thought she was dead why did he give h…

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