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A U R O R A

Two days later

The phone rang incessantly as I drove through the streets of Chicago. It is from Viktor’s office. Since he was in no position to deal with the daily shit, Marco and I decided to take up the matters but individually. We divided the responsibilities geographically and took up the issues as and when required so that neither Viktor nor Dominic has to bother themselves.

But, apparently, the idiots at Viktor’s office did not understand the difference between taking orders and executing them. They would call a hundred times a day, seeking instructions on frivolous things and would strum the last of my nerves until I would pick up a damn baseball bat and struck against their empty heads.

I ignored the first few rings but when they did not stop calling for 10 minutes, I picked up.

“What now?”

“Ma’am,” came a stammering voice from the other end. “There has been a blast at the warehouse.”

I slammed the brake so hard, my body jerked forward and the car came to a halt.