Blood Brothers by Michael Evans

Author:Michael Evans [Evans, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boundless Press
Published: 2019-11-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

A loud knock echoes in the apartment. Its metallic sound bounces off the cream-colored walls and haunts my brain. For the next few nights, I’m renting a small one-bedroom apartment in the heart of D.C. from someone online, until I can figure out if I’ll be living in a more permanent residence. However, due to the box-like character of the seven-hundred-square-foot apartment, the forceful knock reverberates through the room multiple times.

My heart picks up the second the silence encapsulating my mind falls apart, and chills course down my spine as I imagine who it could be. I fumble for my hologlasses, which sit on the small coffee table next to the couch in the main and only living area. No new notifications.

I glance at Riva, who still lies sound asleep on the long couch, her feet lying against my thigh. After she fell asleep, I have pretty much been sitting here dazed out, too tired and lazy to get up and crawl into bed a few feet away in the next room over, but also too awake to fall asleep on the couch.

Now, sleep is the last thing on my mind.

I stand up, attempting to be as quiet as possible as I make my way to the door. The surge of adrenaline inside me awakens all my muscles and knocks away the layer of haze coating my mind. This may be the police. I take a deep breath before opening the door, trying to come up with some bullshit so that they don’t ever come back. What if they are coming to arrest me because they found out that I was connected to manipulating ZOnion? What if they are questioning me about the riots earlier today?

I pause for a moment, and after letting the feeling of anxiety overcome me for a second, I let myself become excited. I know I can do this. I can talk my way out of anything. Talking to these people will be easy. I have nothing to worry about.

Before opening the door, I glance through the peephole. Jake is out there with a man dressed in a polo shirt tucked into his jeans, which seems awfully formal for any occasion this late at night. All the stories I was trying to manufacture to spit out to the officers flee my mind—now I feel like an idiot.

I open the door, allowing the bright light in the hallway of the apartment building to inundate the dark room behind me. I step forward, and before anyone can say hello, I close the door. Riva can’t wake up for this. I have no clue what this is about, but I know it must involve one thing: the Syndicate.

“What’s going on, Sam?” Jake extends a warm handshake to me. Apparently, that is what we do now that we are official members of the Syndicate. No more man hugs, no more dabs, and no more half-dabs half-man hugs. The way in which we communicate has been permanently altered. I’m kidding,

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