Chapter 506: The Dust Settles, Great Harvest, Return to New York

Chapter 506 -330: The Dust Settles, Great Harvest, Return to New York

Raphael was shoved into the room, stumbling and nearly falling.

Carlos followed close behind, but his body was rigid.

More than a decade had passed, and in countless nightmares, he had returned to this place.

The position of the drain hadn’t changed, nor had the light on the ceiling.

He felt his palms start to go numb, as if Hector’s face, his eyes wide open in death, was right there.

“Uncle Carlos.”

Carlos whipped his head around. Hector was standing right beside him, asking the question with a curious look.

He jumped, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Uncle Carlos?” Raphael noticed his strange behavior. “What’s wrong?”

Carlos shook his head but didn’t speak.

Someone shoved him from behind, and he staggered toward the table.

The iron door closed behind them.

A voice came from the speaker.

“My two police comrades, my two… *good* policemen,” Kuluoqi’s voice said with a chuckle. “Good evening.”

“You two crusaders for justice, so determined to eliminate me, the big bad guy,” his tone was lazy and mocking, “but I have a question. By what right am I the bad guy, and you’re the good guys?”

“I’ve lived for sixty years. I’ve seen too many people—far too many—and too much betrayal,” he said. “I believe there’s no such thing as an absolutely good person. Human nature is inherently evil. Good can turn to evil; it just needs the right conditions.”

Raphael didn’t know where the strength came from, but he clenched his fists.

“Bullshit!” he roared at the speaker. “Kuluoqi! You filthy, drug-dealing murderer! You think locking me in here will make me afraid of you?”

There was no response from the speaker.

“Kuluoqi!” Raphael continued to shout. “Come out if you have any guts!”

“A piece of scum like you has no right to talk about good and evil! How many people did you kill in Monterey?! How many families did you destroy?! How many people are dead because of you? What right do you have to talk about human nature?!”

Raphael cursed for a full thirty seconds, running through every dirty word he knew.

The speaker remained silent.

After a dozen or so seconds, he spoke again, his voice flat. “Now, I’d like you two gentlemen to sit opposite each other.”

Raphael sat down resentfully at the table, breathing heavily.

Carlos sat across from him, his mind heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Now,” Kuluoqi’s voice continued, “beneath your table, there is a hidden drawer. Inside each is a handgun, and each handgun contains a single bullet.”

“The rules are simple. Two people, but only one can live.”

“If no one fires a shot within one minute, then you will both die.”

“Your time starts now.”

A suffocating silence fell over the room.

Raphael lowered his head and stared at the tabletop.

It was an ordinary metal table, its surface covered in scratches and rust, looking like it had been used for many years.

His right hand slowly reached under the table. He found a shallow drawer, and after pulling it open, his fingertips brushed against cold metal.

He took out the gun and placed it on the table.

Then he looked across at the other man.

Carlos didn’t move. His hands were on the table, fingers interlaced, showing no intention of reaching for the gun.

“Uncle Carlos,” Raphael said, “your gun.”

Carlos shook his head.

“Raphael,” his voice was very soft, “kill me.”

Raphael froze.

“If you kill me, you get to live,” Carlos said. “All Kuchilo wants is leverage over you. You’re still young. Your mother is waiting for you to come home.”

Raphael stared at Carlos’s face.

The incandescent light shone on his battered face. His left eye was swollen to a slit, and the blood at the corner of his mouth had dried into a dark red crust.

Carlos took his hands off the table and placed them at his sides.

“Just shoot,” he said. “Then you can live.”

Raphael felt like he was going crazy.

Over the past three days, he had become almost certain that Carlos had betrayed him. But why was this same man now willing to sacrifice himself?

His mind was working slowly. He couldn’t perform any complex reasoning right now.

But then, he suddenly remembered some things.

When he was a child, around seven or eight years old, Carlos came to their house on the anniversary of his father’s death. His mother went to the kitchen to get him a coffee.

That left just him and Carlos in the living room.

Carlos sat on the sofa, staring at Hector’s memorial portrait for a long time.

Little Raphael asked him, “Uncle Carlos, what are you thinking about?”

Carlos lowered his head, his eyes bright red. “I’m thinking about your father.”

“Do you miss him?” Raphael asked. “Mom says he’s on a secret mission and will be back soon.”

“…”

Raphael was too young then. He didn’t understand why his father never came back, nor did he understand why one man’s eyes would turn red for another.

Now, he understood.

A person can put on an act for a while, but no one can keep it up for a lifetime.

Raphael made his decision.

He picked up the gun from the table with a trembling hand and checked the bullet.

Across from him, Carlos’s body tensed for a moment before relaxing again.

‘Come on,’ he thought.

In that moment, he felt both acceptance and a sense of regret.

He had waited for more than a decade for this, to die at the hands of Hector’s son, just as he had wished.

But this son was a man just like him.

“Uncle Carlos, you were my dad’s best partner. You’re the only one who was willing to stay in touch with our family,” Raphael said, his voice trembling. “I believe you.”

“Don’t forget why you became a cop, Uncle Carlos,” he said. “Avenge me. And take care of my mom.”