Vicious Angel (Criminal Sins 2)

This is easy. Too easy.

Could Juan be playing me?

I’m in too far to go back now, so instead of second guessing myself, I start checking the doors down the empty hallway.

Bathroom. Bedroom. Another bedroom...

Bingo. The second I see the messy desk through the slit in the doorway, I burst in, gun raised.

But no one’s there.

Fuck.

I frantically search the little room for signs of a trap door. Nothing. The closets are empty, too. No one hides under the desk.

I’ve been played.

There’s a tiny gold statue of a lion on Juan’s desk. Without thinking, I grab it and whip it towards the door, desperate to release the anger that threatens to overwhelm me.

The gilded paperweight hits the edge of the door with a thud, and the heavy wood slams shut. I go to grab something else to destroy, but before I can turn back to the desk, something catches my eye.

... A giant note is pinned to the back of the office door. My anger cools as the rational side of me returns through the veil of curiosity. For some reason, I feel like the note is written to me.

Men bark orders outside as I approach the piece of paper attached to the wooden door. If I had been calm enough to search this place properly from the start, it would have been too big to miss, but I was stuck in tunnel vision—Catalina seems to do that to me.

Jungle creatures—tigers and birds alike—meet where the forest overcomes the fire.

That’s what the note says. Somehow, I immediately know what it means.

Footsteps pound down the hallway outside the office. I tug down my ski mask and rip out my gun.

Throwing that gilded paperweight was stupid—I’ve been overly focused on my mission to rescue Cat—Juan’s message has opened my eyes, though. If I’m ever going to reclaim my throne, I’m going to have to start acting like a king again. A king doesn’t make stupid mistakes out of anger; he can’t, or else he falls.

I’m done with falling, now is my time to rise again. Now is the time of my re-ascension.

The office door rips open and I fill the hallway with bullets.

Howler monkeys wail in the distance and cicadas sing their chorus as I step through the rubble of my old castle.

The jungle has already reclaimed most of it. Vines crawl over the crumbled stone and big leafy trees rise up higher than any remaining structure.

The skeleton of the once great compound fills me with a sadness that I force away. This is where I lost everything, but this is also where I’ve come in the hopes of regaining it all.

... Unless Juan is just playing with me again.

For some reason, I trust my interpretation of his office note. There was no malice in it, no cruelty. It was a message for me, a hand reaching out through the darkness—at least, that’s what I hope. But hope can be so dangerous.

Jungle creatures—tigers and birds alike—meet where the forest overcomes the fire.

I’m the tiger. Catalina’s the bird. Here, in the ruins of my old compound, the jungle has overtaken the fire that burned my legacy to the ground. It’s here where the phoenix shall rise, where I shall rise...

It’s where Juan should be waiting for me.

“Hello, old friend.”

The silver fox stands on top of a half-crumbled wall, silhouetted by the moonlight. From my spot on the ground below, I can’t make out his face, but I recognize that voice. It’s Juan Arias alright.

He has his gun pointed right at me.