Rune System: The Crimson Knight

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Nooo!!”

Dominic’s scream barely rose above the pouring rain as he rushed toward the discarded items on the sidewalk.

After almost two hours of half-running, half-limping, he’d finally arrived at his apartment building, albeit drenched and exhausted enough to pass out.

But he forgot all his pains when he saw his family’s belongings on the roadside, getting mercilessly beaten by the rain.

He’d stopped dead in his tracks at first, hardly believing the sight before his eyes. But when he spotted his sister’s wheelchair, twisted and broken as if it were thrown from the first floor, adrenaline immediately surged in his veins.

Even worse, there was no sign of his sister or mother anywhere. As much as he didn’t want to believe that they were left in the downpour, Dominic had reasons to believe that these men could be that heartless. Gregory, Croft… these were people who did as they pleased without considering how others would deal with the consequences. And no one could bring them to order for their actions.

The thought of it alone made Dominic’s blood boil.

He turned to the building, his sight hampered by the heavy rain. But he was sure as hell that he could see Croft—standing in the outer corridor, one hand on the railings and the other cradling a cigarette or a bottle of beer. Dominic immediately charged into the building, sprinting up the stairs with surprising strength. When he reached the second floor, he veered off into the outer corridor with bloody murder in his eyes.

“Croft!” he yelled as he approached menacingly. “Where are they, Croft? Where are they?!”

He never reached the old man. In the blink of an eye, one of the twins emerged from the row of rooms on the left, planting his huge body squarely between his father and Dominic. Before the latter could react, the other twin appeared behind him, smashing his body into the railing and running his face into the ground.

“You pathetic little miscreant,” Croft said softly, his face forming his favorite sneer. “What did you think was going to happen? You thought you’d waltz in here in a fit of rage and avenge your family like some stereotypical Hollywood movie?”

Croft gestured to his son, and the quiet giant peeled Dominic’s face off the ground, causing the old man to grimace at the bloody mess.

“Jeez, Tommy,” he complained. “I’m getting too old for this. My stomach can’t take the sight of his hideous face now.”

A gurgle escaped Dominic’s throat as he breathed slowly through his bloodied mouth, his nose damaged beyond use. The sickening sound continued for a moment, before he was finally able to muster the energy to speak.

“You… tricked me. You and…Gregory… worked together…”

“Gregory? I don’t think I know who that person is.” Croft crooned, his smile betraying his words. “Even if I did, you have no evidence of this conspiracy you speak of. I simply did as I was asked. Besides, I was kind enough to give you a chance to redeem yourself, and you failed miserably as usual.”

“Where… are… they?” Dominic wheezed.

“Your mother and sister?” Croft asked, hardly innocently. “How the hell should I know? They were right there on the sidewalk with the rest of their things, right before a black van came and took them away. You didn’t expect me to follow them and ensure their safety, did you?”

With one eye bruised and swollen shut, Dominic focused the other eye—bloodshot and teary with hate—on Croft for another minute. Then he spat at the old man, hurling blood, saliva, and a few teeth in his direction.

“Go to hell,” he said.

“Yeah, eventually,” Croft replied as he wiped his face with his shirt. “But you’re going there now.” He gestured to his son. “Toss this fool down, will ya?”

Tommy wasted no time in picking Dominic up like a weightless mannequin, flinging him over the railings and towards the ground below. His descent only lasted three seconds, and his lower back shot up in pain as he landed on the roof of Croft’s pickup truck, rolling down to the wet lawn.

In between the relentless rain, repeated thunderclaps, and the landlord’s distant voice complaining about his precious truck, Dominic tried to disconnect his mind from the agony his body suffered. As much as he wanted to just lie there and stop trying, he couldn’t. Anya and his mother were somewhere, possibly seeking refuge from the storm. Given the state of both their bodies, Dominic was very much aware of their vulnerability in a cruel world. And that black van…

Dominic tried not to think about it, given that Croft may have been lying anyway. His main priority was to find both his mother and sister first.

“Get up, Dom,” he muttered as he pushed himself. “You’ve got to find them, you have to keep them safe. Get the hell up, you stupid weakling!”

It took him five whole agonizing minutes, but he was finally on his feet, limping towards the road. He left his belongings behind, taking a right turn and slowly heading towards the main intersection connecting the outskirts to the main city.

As the dark skies turned the drizzling afternoon into a gloomy evening, he finally found his mother. He spotted her feet first—bare and sticking out of an alleyway beside a barbershop. When he got closer, he choked back a sob. She was folded up in a wide puddle of rainwater, wearing only her light, silk nightgown and shivering uncontrollably. Dominic hopped on one leg to her, dropping on his good knee and lifting her into his arms. She was terrifyingly small and light, like a sick, dying child. He carried her to the corner of a fruit stand, where the roof jutted out by the side and shielded them from the rain.

“Mom?” he called, his heart in his throat. “Mom, it’s me, Dominic. How… how’d you get here? Where’s Anya?”

By her pulse, he could tell she was awake. But she was too weak to even keep her eyes open. Dominic held her closer so she could partake in his body heat, hoping that it would be enough for the moment.

“Anya,” she finally whispered hoarsely, barely audible. “Anya…”

“Yes, Anya,” Dominic repeated, grasping and rubbing her bone-thin hand. “We have to find her. She doesn’t have her wheelchair.”

She shook her head slightly. “No. She… was… taken…”

Dominic almost missed her statement. “What? Taken? By whom? Who took her, Mom?”

“Don’t… know… who they… were,” she continued weakly. “Black van… scary men… Tony’s appliances…”

Dominic stopped shaking as dread drained the blood from his face. “Tony’s appliances?”

“Yes… do you… know…?”

“I do, Mom,” he replied, tears beginning to fall from his good eye. “The loan I took two months ago for your treatment came from the owner of that store. I haven’t been able to pay him back since then, and now… now he’s taken Anya.”