Chapter 79: I Want to be Stronger
Milo had been standing in the same stiff position for nearly twenty minutes. He tried not to attract attention as he glanced repeatedly at the two men.
An older man near the back of the room, seated at a table with three other people, was talking with a glass in his hand. His face was so pale that Milo was certain he had no more than a week to live.
Milo looked at him intently several times to be sure. But the face didn’t change. Still pale like a corpse.
He looked at the second man briefly. He felt a pang in his heart. He always felt this way whenever he saw someone who might die soon.
The second man was younger. Seated two tables away from the older man, but turned slightly in his direction. He was talking to someone beside him while periodically watching the older man.
The same pale face. Very pale. They had almost identical facial features. They could be related.
Milo wondered, might they die together?
He observed both of them and kept his posture straight as he watched the other guards. He didn’t move much, which made his back ache even more.
He tried not to look at Salvatore. He stood with the other guards and waited.
After a while, he got bored. Was the guard only supposed to stand like this? Doing nothing?
Across the room, Salvatore was in the middle of a conversation with a man in a gray jacket. He was listening, nodding occasionally, his cigarette down to the last third.
Felix was still in his chair to the left, contributing to the conversation whenever he had something to add, occasionally glancing over at Milo with an expression he wasn’t bothering to hide.
Milo realized Felix was really trying hard to make him jealous, but he tried to ignore it.
After a long conversation, Salvatore stood up.
He said something brief to the table, speaking easily and without haste. He picked up his glass, set it down, briefly touched Felix on the shoulder as he passed him, and walked toward the guards standing nearby.
He stopped near Milo and said nothing. Just a slight tilt of his head to signal Milo to follow him.
Milo was a bit confused, but he followed him.
The corridor outside the main room was empty. Dimly lit, with a carpet runner down the center and closed doors on both sides.
Salvatore stopped about halfway down the corridor and turned to face him. He saw how pale Milo was. He was afraid the young man might faint, as Milo was sick.
"Are you okay? If you feel sick, I’ll ask Ramon to take you home," said Salvatore.
Milo was stunned, he hadn’t expected the man to notice his face. He was tired and a bit dizzy, but it wasn’t anything serious.
"No, sir, I’m fine. Really. Please don’t worry about me."
Salvatore touched his cheeks; they were warm. "You’re sick."
Milo shook his head. "No, I’m fine! Uh... I just... saw two men with pale faces."
Salvatore looked at Milo, serious now. "Two? Are you sure?"
"Yes, two people," Milo said. "Both of them were pale. I’m certain of it."
"Which ones?"
"An old man near the back wall. Gray hair, dark jacket, sitting with three others. And the other was younger, two tables to his left. They looked almost the same."
Salvatore was quiet for a moment. "I think I know who they were. But do you know anyone who can tell me their names?"
"The younger man... I think his name is Rey. I didn’t catch the older man’s name."
Something changed in Salvatore’s expression. Not much. Just a slight tightening around his eyes.
"Reynolds. So the older one is Marcus," Salvatore said. "Reynolds is his son."
Milo watched his face. "You know them?"
"Of course I know them very well." Salvatore looked past Milo toward the door at the end of the corridor for a moment. But he didn’t say anything else to Milo.
The men Milo mentioned had been in contact with his cousin Macron for the past year. He had really tried to get information through them. He had even planned to kill them, but who knew if they would actually die.
He wasn’t sure if they would die at his hands or Macron’s.
"Are they dangerous, Sir?" Milo asked worriedly.
Salvatore smiled. "Everyone is dangerous if you don’t know how to handle them, Milo."
Milo fell silent. He was worried that Salvatore might be in danger because of them.
Salvatore said nothing else; he seemed to be working something out in his head, not speaking while he did it.
Milo waited.
"Both of them," Salvatore said finally. "You’re sure."
"Yes."
"But I think you don’t know what will kill them."
Milo shook his head. "No, Sir, I can’t tell what will cause their deaths. I only see their faces. I can’t tell you how or why."
Salvatore nodded slowly. He dropped what was left of his cigarette and crushed it under his shoe.
He looked at Milo once more.
"You really look terrible. Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t push yourself if you’re sick," Salvatore said.
"I’m fine, Sir."
"Sit down in the hallway. Don’t look at them again. You have what I need."
Milo nodded and went back through the door.
Salvatore returned to the table and continued as if nothing had interrupted him. But his gaze now focused on Marcus and Reynolds.
Milo went back to his position with the guards, as he didn’t feel comfortable sitting alone while everyone else was working. He stared into space for the rest of the time.
Felix remained in his place. He had watched Milo come back through the door and had said something to Salvatore when he sat back down.
Salvatore had responded briefly and then turned the conversation back to the man in the gray jacket.
When they left, they took their time. Goodbyes at the table, a few words at the door, then down in the private elevator and back through the lobby. The cars were waiting in the same spot where they had been left.
They were almost at the cars.
Then a loud sound startled everyone.
The sound came first. A hard, flat crack from somewhere under the vehicle parked two spots ahead of them.
The car exploded.
It happened in a split second. So fast.
Then came the force of it—a wave of pressure that hit Milo in the chest and face, knocking the wind completely out of him.
He didn’t have time to scream. His body was yanked violently to the side.
He saw the ground. Then he saw the side of a car. He wasn’t sure in what order.
Salvatore had grabbed him before he fully understood what was happening. The man had saved him.
He was on the ground with Salvatore’s weight partially on top of him. He couldn’t hear clearly. He could feel his own heartbeat in his throat and behind his eyes.
He was shaking.
He became aware of the shaking before he became aware of anything else. His hands were pressed flat against the ground, and they were shaking badly; he couldn’t immediately make them stop.
Had he just seen a bomb explode right in front of him?
He really appreciated the new experience, but he hadn’t expected this kind of experience at all.
The guards were already moving. He could see that even without being able to hear clearly. They were spreading out, fast and organized, weapons drawn, covering the exits.
Roderick was on his phone. Two of them had pulled Salvatore to his feet and were working to shield him.
Milo pushed himself up onto his knees. He was supposed to be a guard. To protect Salvatore. But here he was, trembling and shaking like a dry leaf, his face pale, cradled in his boss’s arms.
He got one foot under him and began to stand. He needed to be brave. He should try to protect his master.
But before he could move, Salvatore placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Stay here," Salvatore said. He spoke clearly, close enough that Milo could hear him over the ringing. "Don’t move toward something you don’t know how to handle."
Milo watched the coordinated movements of the guards around them. He observed the speed and certainty with which they carried out every action. Then he looked at his own hands, which had mostly stopped shaking, but not entirely.
Everything around him was so chaotic, and Milo couldn’t make sense of anything. It was too much for him.
He stayed where he was.
Salvatore moved with Roderick and the others, and the group cleared the area quickly. Milo crouched behind the car, kept his head down, and tried to get his breathing back to normal.
He had trained for days. He had been exercising every morning; he could hit targets during shooting practice. He could run distances that would have been impossible when he first arrived. He could fight Salvatore back.
But he realized none of that was enough. He hadn’t expected being a guard would put him in a life-or-death situation.
***
That night, the training session was scheduled for shooting practice.
Milo came out of his room to find Salvatore.
Salvatore saw him first and walked over. He looked at him for a moment.
Milo was still pale. He had been quiet the entire ride back and had barely eaten anything at dinner.
"Go rest," Salvatore said. "You were sick this morning."
"I want to shoot," Milo said.
"Shoot? No, you’re too sick. We can do it another time."
"Please, sir, I want to train."
Salvatore looked at him for another second. "Why?"
Milo looked at the floor. "Because I’m still not strong enough. I still can’t protect you. I need to be stronger, and I want to shoot better."
Salvatore was quiet.
"I want to be a strong guard," Milo added.
Salvatore sighed. He wanted to force Milo back to his room, but he saw determination in his eyes.
He didn’t argue further. He walked to the basement.
"Let’s go. If you miss the target too much, I’ll make you do push-ups. Don’t cry."
Milo smiled and followed Salvatore’s long strides down to the basement.
