Recognizing the newcomer, Lazar eased his gun down, his scowl saying exactly what he thought of such a needlessly brutal entrance.
A man of a similar age to his, in his early twenties, barged in, nearly tripping when he crossed the doorway, like a sprinter clumsily trying to brake after the finish line.
His turquoise jacket was wrinkled, his tie hanging loose, and a dark red stain marked his left sleeve, big enough to raise questions, and ominous enough to bury them in the same breath.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. His respiration came in short and irregular bursts, the rhythm of panic more than exhaustion.
The moment his eyes landed on Lazar, he froze. A nervous smile twitched on his lips before he walked toward him like a man stepping into court knowing the verdict of the judge wouldn't be at his avantage.
"C'mon, man. You're not gonna screw me over, right?"
No hello, no manners, just desperation.
"Look. The truth is..."
Lazar gave a dismissive wave.
"Sit and shut up. Save your truth for someone as depraved as you. Your lies are cheap, but at least they don't make me feel like I need a shower after."
The young man obeyed with a sigh, dragging the chair over. He didn't sit so much as collapse into it, hands twitching, his eyes darting anywhere but at Lazar, as if looking at him too long might be dangerous.
Then, his voice went low, almost pleading, like a man who knows the hangman won't bargain, but tries anyway.
"You'll cover for me, right? Tell her I was here the whole time. On a call. Whatever. Just don't let her know I messed up again. If she finds out, she'll lose her shit."
Lazar glanced down at his watch.
"That's a lot of mental gymnastics needed for thirty-three minutes of nothing." He said, annoyance plain, "And I'm not jumping through hoops for you."
The young man tugged nervously at his stained sleeve without looking up. Then, finally noticing a voice singing from the kitchen, his eyes shifted in that direction.
"Shit. She's here. And knowing Mamma, she's already ratted me out to my mom... Fuck me."
He leaned in, his mouth trembling with barely contained panic.
"Do me a solid, get me out of here alive and I'll get you ten years worth of that weird tea you like to drink. Or a kidney. Whatever keeps me breathing."
Lazar stayed still, elbows on the table, wearing the kind of stone face showing nothing that could be mistaken for mercy.
"Was that my good-for-nothing little shit of a nephew I just heard whining?!"
The air turned heavy.
From the kitchen, Mamma's voice tore through the air, loud and long past the point of putting up with a certain someone's antics.
"Viktor! Run away, and you're dead!"
The kitchen door blasted open, and Mamma stormed out with a flour-dusted rolling pin, looking seconds away from being bloodstained.
Viktor instinctively shifted his chair back a few inches.
"No, wait, please..."
As if that ever helped.
THWACK.
A first blow came down hard across his shoulder.
"You know what? I might've stopped right there if you had the decency to apologize to Lazar when you walked in! But you didn't, did you, Viktor?!"
Viktor's jaw clenched with a flash of pain. He stayed silent, knowing lying would only pour gasoline on the fire.
THWACK!
The next strike landed on the same spot, harder.
"Agh! Fine! I'm sorry!" Viktor yelped, throwing the words at his aunt and Lazar alike, the apology far too weak and late to save him.
"That's what I fucking thought! No respect, not a shred, you pathetic worm!"
Lazar brought up his empty plate, holding it between Mamma and Viktor like a barrier.
"That's as far as this goes. I told you, he's yours when I'm done talking with him."
Mamma froze mid-swing, nostrils flaring like an angry bull, eyes darting from Viktor to Lazar before she sighed and lowered her arm.
"You're lucky I value my plates more than the satisfaction of hitting you, Testa di Cazzo (dickhead)."
She spun on her heel and went back into the kitchen, muttering insults like a smoker taking deep drags, each one meant to steady her nerves.
Viktor winced as he rubbed his shoulder.
"She still packs a punch, huh?"
"Can't say. I'm not the dickhead she practices on." Lazar commented without much interest, hand extended, making it obvious he was waiting for something.
Viktor pulled a thin folder from inside his jacket, light brown, one corner bent probably from his earlier run. He handed it to Lazar with the care of someone passing over a rare treasure.
"Everything we have is in there : addresses, connections, movements… plus a recent picture of him."
Lazar's fingers rested on the cover, holding back the urge to open it, "Finally, something worth my time."
Viktor swallowed, straightening in his seat. The fool's mask was gone.
Lazar skimmed through the folder until one page made him pause. He stared at it a moment, jaw tight, then he eased the folder shut.
Viktor fell into the same gravity as Lazar, his silence turning almost reverent.
"So you're actually doing it." He muttered, unable to hide his disbelief.
Lazar once again stayed silent. But his eyes held a warning : talking about this subject amounted to treading on dangerous ground.
Viktor gave a slight nod, acknowledging that fact, but then carefully ventured.
"I guess you've got the balls for it. Me, I'm just the suit-and-tie guy. I can't wrap my head around it."
With a small, almost casual adjustment of his lapel, he underscored his point.
"I've got to hand it to you, Lazar. I've never met anyone with your brand of romantic self-destruction." He mused.
A silence settled between them. Then Viktor spoke again, his voice quieter.
"Oh, right. Before you leave, pass by the house. She wants to see you."
Lazar lifted his head, interest flickering across his face at first, then narrowing into suspicion.
"Wait. Are you playing word games with me here? Is it your mother or that nutcase sister of yours who wants to see me?"
Viktor immediately gave a resigned shrug.
"Okay, fine, you caught me. It's my sister. And sorry, but between lying to you or telling her I didn't try… well, you're the safer option."
Lazar tilted his head, as if begrudgingly conceding Viktor had a point.
"I will let it slide because I saw through it and your sister's a walking disaster. But try it again, and I will kill you. Pull it off, and I will get creative."
Viktor's smirk faltered, Lazar's tone pinning him in place, as he knew there was more than a little truth in what he just said.
He swallowed, finding his voice again.
"Look, my sister was the one who's been bugging me about it, but my mom wants to see you too. Of course, she didn't say it. She's like you, a block of ice with no cracks. But if there's anything left beating in there, I'm pretty sure it would break if she couldn't see you before you... well, head off to die."
Lazar paused, his expression neutral, as if weighing the request.
"I can't say for sure if..."
DONG.
The rest died in his throat when a deafening, alien resonance riped through the air, freezing the room in place.
It was a bell. Yet there was no mistaking, the sound coming from it couldn't be man-made.
It did more than echo, it crawled through the walls, into the skin, down to the bone. As if the entire world shook with the bell's toll, compelling every living soul, even those robbed of all senses, to know that something of great consequence was taking place.
Viktor flinched, his eyes wide and unblinking, as though the sound had bypassed his mind and gripped the animal part of him that only knew fear.
As for Lazar, he stood rigid, fingers twitching at his sides as the steady calm he wore like armor shattered into confusion.