I've been awake for 96 hours.
I am aware that it's not healthy at all, but since Luther was- relocated, my schedule was aching for attention.
Let's rewind everything I did in the last four days: I have dealt with the Akna's heir trying to kill me, I have dealt with a Prime Minister tantrum and I had a very amusing meeting with the woman who ruined my life.
And now- thanks to my dear wife- I had a riot to deal with.
Half my lab rats are dead.
It's fine. It's ok. It's manageable.
All that started this killer strike was Killian.
I was on the phone with Claus. Well—not exactly. I was holding a monologue while Claus graciously listened.
As I was enjoying my one-sided conversation, Lucrezia's golden boy interrupted. Rudely.
He thought the element of surprise might give him an advantage.
I've had disobedient pets before. But none as stupid as him.
Just minutes ago, I gave him a rather direct demonstration of what my pheromones are capable of. A dreadful display, yes—but necessary.
And now—not even five minutes later—he lunged at my neck with a shard of glass from the wine bottle I smashed over his head.
I could call it courageous, but I'm not a liar. It was idiotic. So idiotic, in fact, that for a moment I assumed he must've suffered a concussion from the blow.
Not that it matters now.
So I intoxicated him. Too many pheromones at once.
But not enough to kill him.
He was my chess piece. A disposable one—but I still needed him to sacrifice for Lucrezia.
Replacing him would be a headache. And thanks to my dear wife, I already had a pulsing migraine.
Killian's eye had swollen shut. A few blood vessels popped, giving him a nice undead aesthetic.
His tears were mixing with blood now. A pathetic sight.
His lungs had begun to wither—he was coughing like a dying mutt, spraying my apartment with germs.
I should probably relocate.
After my monkeys took the regurgitated little prince off my floor in the bed next to Claus.
And just like that I was off to meet Cassian.
I've never thought I would see a 56-year-old man stomp his feet while throwing a tantrum.
"We've discussed this, Mister Prime Minister. Two months. Barely one passed."
"I need results. I was expecting something, anything at this point. Where is Luther anyway?"
"With all due respect, do I come into your office to tell you how to do your job?No. I don't rush you to approve laws, you don't rush me when I turn your son into a worthy heir. That was the deal."
He scoffed and tapped his foot. Slightly, barely noticing, yet so utterly annoying.
Am I talking to a child? What's next? He asks me to change his diaper?
"Make him a beta. I am satisfied with that too."
"That's an entirely different process."
"Do something. I'll pay you more."
"You don't pay me shit. I do this for my own research so don't try to manipulate me with money. It terribly annoys me. And I might be distracted and inject something I should not into your dear son."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I am just stating the facts."
"I could destroy you and everything you ever loved."
"But you can't, Cassi. I don't love anything or anyone. And if you leak me, I'll just release the recordings of our conversations. More so, I'll talk about how you peer pressured me with your power and your function. People would enjoy more tearing down a political figure than a nobody scientist."
"Fuck you."
"Your son is more my type actually."
"I better see results soon."
"You'll see results before the two months pass, Cassian. Let's not waste each other's time and energy anymore!"
He slammed my door.
This week has not been kind to my apartment.
One destroyed the bedroom.
One bled on the floor.
One unhinged my front door.
And yet my day isn't done.
Next: Lucrezia.
Our relationship is—how do I phrase it—complicated.
She doesn't know me.
I don't blame her for that.
How could she recognize me when I could barely locate the remains of who I once was in the mirror?
Unimportant.
Her ignorance is a crucial asset to my plan.
She looks like she hasn't aged a day. Same elegance. Same arrogant tilt of the neck.
Same soul-sucking frost in her gaze.
This woman is so cold, if she looked at a chicken, it would freeze mid-cluck.
Whirlpool would be jealous.
"Mister Sanchez, we finally meet."
"Please do not be this formal with me. Let's be comfortable around each other."
"Oh, well, I must admit I am surprised. I've pictured you much more- different.Because of the rumors. You understand, right?"
"Should I show my bad side to a beautiful woman whom I am about to make a deal with?"
She blushed.
At least that was the impression I've got, but under all those mountains of foundation and botox, who could tell for sure?
Disgusting nonetheless.
"I heard you are interested in the heir of the Wilker house."
"Let's assume that is true. Hasn't he been kidnapped?"
"My nephew had intel about his location."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes"
She paused.
Analyzed me like I was a cut of meat she wasn't quite convinced to buy.
I hate how my body still feels weak and squished under her gaze. Like I am not still good enough.
I cleared my throat.
Reset my posture.
Pulled the strings of my mask tighter.
"Then I will give you something you wish as well if you can give me Luther."
"That is rather difficult, Sanchez dear. You see, my dear nephew fell in love with the heir as well. And I am a sentimental woman. I put my family first."
I have never felt such an urge to punch a woman before.
"But, my company is very important to me. More important than a mediocre fuck my nephew could aquifers from the Wilker's heir. So I want the new drug - the one that blocks any omegas toxic pheromones."
"Didn't your nephew develop his own formula?."
She scoffed.
"It's rubbish in comparison to yours."
"It's rather a big ask."
"For a big reward."
"Fair enough. But I need a collateral."
"A collateral?"
"I am a sensitive man too. If my hopes are crushed by not having Luther, well, I need to be compensated then. Don't you agree?"
"What do you want?"
"Clara. Your daughter. Get me Luther in a week or Clara is mine. My propriety and you'll never see her again."
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, but without a doubt left in her tone she said.
"Fine."
Stupid woman.
She just sold the only person she ever showed sympathy for just for a couple of math formulas.
Good luck getting Luther out of my prison.
I can't wait to see your game, Lucrezia.
As for Luther, maybe I should pay him a visit.
Isteric wives are either lobotomized or fucked good to be treated.
And I am up for either.