Hazina's Revenge

Chapter 4 - Hazina’s Imagination

Over the next few days, I spent a lot of time grieving. I grieved over the love I lost. I grieved over the parents I lost. I grieved over the best friend I lost.

Life will never be the same, and that was a hard pill to swallow. I will never hear my mother’s sweet voice again. I will never see my father working in the yard again. I will never feel Tristen’s lips upon mine again. I will never share secrets with Estella again.

Leaving the room I was in, terrified me beyond reason. What if their murderer was waiting for me to exit the building, like he waited for them to step outside?

Sure, I thought about killing myself when I first got there, but I couldn’t do it. Nor did I really want to. What I wanted more than anything was revenge, and I had to find a way to get it, but first… I had to find the courage to go back out in the world.

Eventually, I stopped hearing the thunder rumble outside, letting me know the hurricane was finally moving on, but the storm in my heart raged on with a vengeance. It was a consuming rage, and one that would ultimately drive me to do things I never would have done before.

During my time in that room, Dante brought me food and drinks, but I had no appetite. I managed to force a little of the food down, but it wasn’t much. However, I drank every last drop of the soda, bottled water, and juices given to me.

Dante was always respectful, not flirting or anything. He kept a professional demeanor, making it easier for me to not turn to him for comfort. However, comfort was what I needed most.

My usually shy demeanor has made it hard for me to build lasting friendships with my peers over the years. That’s why I only had one close friend. A friend I had kept close to my heart and loved like a sister.

Estella and I spent endless nights talking about our dreams for the future. We liked the same things, ate the same foods, and went to the same college to get degrees in the same field.

We were planning to open our own greenhouse together, but that dream shattered the day they were all murdered. Now my nights are filled with new dreams, or should I say… nightmares about what I plan to do when the time is right.

I cried so many tears, I didn’t think it was possible to cry any more, but I did. My eyes were red and swollen, but I didn’t give a flying f**k. The former reasons I had to live were replaced by my need to get revenge, and it was plaguing my current thoughts.

It was hard to picture a face in my mind, but it wasn’t hard to picture the horrible things I wanted to do. It wasn’t hard to come up with different ways to get payback, but it wouldn’t be a possibility until I got one question answered. Who killed them? T

The reason why no longer mattered to me. All that mattered was finding out the who, then figuring out the how, but none of that would be possible until I left that room at the CIA headquarters.

Feeling more determined than ever in my life, I opened the door to the hallway and informed Dante, “It’s time for me to move on. How do I get this process moving along?”

“Follow me,” he mumbled with a pleased smile playing on his lips.

Dante led me to Cheryl's office, where he requested a helicopter to take us to their headquarters in Atlanta. She got right on it, then she took the time to express her condolences again before wishing me luck.

Cheryl seemed nice enough, but I did not trust that woman. Hell, I didn’t trust any of them besides Dante and Bruce. They had earned my trust. Especially Dante.

As we went to leave her office, Cheryl jumped from her chair and grabbed something from under her desk. When she got to her feet, I saw my bag of personal belongings in her hand.

Right away, I rushed to her and took my bag while saying, “Thank you,” then we left her office.

From there, Dante led me to Bruce’s desk, where they spoke in hushed voices about what was happening. Once Bruce was filled in, he grabbed his personal items from his desk, making sure not to forget his badge and weapon, then he walked with us to the roof of the building.

We had to take the elevator to the top floor, then we had to walk up a short flight of steps to reach the door leading outside. Dante walked in front of me while Bruce covered the back of me, both keeping their guns out and ready to shoot.

Instead of leading us outside, Dante stood at the door and peeked out every thirty seconds, watching for the helicopter to arrive. While waiting, he removed his jacket and wrapped it around my torso, then he mumbled, “The wind can get chilly up here.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging my bag against my chest.

“No problem,” he mumbled before peeking out the door again.

Close to ten minutes passed, then I heard the sound of a helicopter landing on the roof. Dante waited a full minute, then he peeked out the door again to make sure nothing looked suspicious.

When Dante was confident everything was good, he threw the door open, then he grabbed my hand and sprinted toward the chopper. He practically dragged me across the roof, not wanting to risk anyone getting a shot at me.

As soon as we reached the helicopter, the co-pilot gave me a hand climbing into the chopper, then he helped Dante and Bruce climb in. After securing the door, he made sure we were all seatbelted correctly, then we lifted off into the air.

It was my first time riding in a helicopter, and the first reason I had to truly feel anything other than anger and sadness. I watched the buildings below as we flew over them, and it was quite a sight.

The people on the streets got smaller, making them look like little ants, and that was surprisingly satisfying to see. In my head, I imagined they were all members of the Solito Cartel, and I was stomping them all to death. It was silly, I know, but it made me feel a little better to imagine it.