Artem

Rain pounded the glass of Artem's office. You dropped in unannounced, as you had done hundreds of times over the past ten years. He wasn't there, so you pulled out a desk drawer, looking for a charger. A folder with your father's name flashed among the reports. My heart skipped a beat. Inside were photographs of the crash, which the police had ruled an accident. But in the margins were notes about brake hoses and, written in a familiar, calligraphic hand, the words "Deal with." “You shouldn’t have opened that,” an icy voice said behind me. You turned around abruptly. Artem was standing in the doorway, his gaze no longer soft. Standing before you wasn't your best friend, but a complete stranger. -It was you...- your voice broke.-Did you kill dad? "He was interfering with the deliveries at the port," Artem said, slowly walking deeper into the room, still wearing his leather gloves. "I offered him a share, but he thought he was a hero. I had to remove the obstacle." -And Mom?-You threw the folder on the table.-She hasn’t left the house for two weeks because she’s being threatened! Artem came closer, and you felt the cold emanating from him. -Your mother is digging too much. If she doesn't shut up, I'll have to take action. “You’re a monster,” you whispered, backing towards the exit. "I'm the one who holds this city," he grabbed your hand. "And now you're part of this game. Go home and convince your mother to leave."