The air in the hall seemed to have solidified, and the expensive saxophone music had long since ceased. The once-elegant social venue now resembled a slaughterhouse littered with debris, with only the unconscious moans of the downed bodyguards and the acrid smell of the half-smoked cigar burning into the expensive carpet.
Reed stood at the edge of the pool of blood, the brass knuckles on his fist still dripping with viscous red. His eyes, tormented by gunpowder smoke and nightmares for countless nights, were now fixed on Lila. He had thought that the force he had displayed could be like a sharp blade cutting through the darkness, leading her away from this soul-devouring money pit.
"Lila... let's go." He spoke again, his voice as hoarse as two rusty pieces of iron grinding together.
However, Lila did not walk towards him. She slowly put down the champagne glass in her hand, her movements elegant to the point of being cruel. She straightened her fiery red silk dress, and stepping on her slender high heels, coldly stepped over an unconscious bodyguard, stopping three steps away from Reed.
It was the face he had vowed to protect for the rest of his life, but now it had a strangeness that sent a chill down his spine.
"What do you think you're doing, Reed?" She tilted her head, her tone devoid of surprise, emotion, or even the fear one might expect, only a deep, utterly disgusted weariness, "Do you think you're in some kind of damsel-in-distress movie? Look at yourself, in that cheap suit, covered in blood, you're like a mad dog barging into a ball."
"I saved enough money... we can leave New York..." Reed's mind buzzed, trying to grasp the last bit of reason.
"Money?" Lila seemed to have heard the most ridiculous joke of her life, and her laughter echoed harshly in the empty hall, "Oh, Reed. Your pitiful military severance pay, plus the few pennies you saved working as a bouncer in that broken-down bar? What do you think that can buy? A loaf of expired discounted bread?"
She took a step closer, her fingers painted with bright red nail polish contemptuously brushing across Reed's stained collar.
"That money has been spent long ago. In the beauty salon that you can't even step into, in the luxury storefronts on Fifth Avenue, in the underground poker game lost last night. They have become the dress on my body, the high heels on my feet, every breath of expensive air I breathe."
Reed staggered back, as if hit head-on by a heavy cannon: "No... your mother's illness, and your brother's tuition..."
"Mother? Brother?" Lila leaned closer to his ear, the fragrance she exhaled carrying a cold poison, "I don't have a sick mother, let alone a brother in school. I grew up in an orphanage in Brooklyn, Reed. Those sentimental stories are just my 'professional skills' for surviving in nightclubs. After all, fools like you, with all your trauma and longing to be redeemed, are most easily taken in by the 'suffering maiden' act, aren't you?"
Reed felt his stomach churning. Those fantasies about Montana's wheat fields and peaceful sunsets all rotted and stank in that moment.
"But I love you..." he murmured, as humble as a desperate believer.
"Love? Can love get me an apartment on the top floor of Manhattan?" Lila frowned with disgust and glanced at the man in sunglasses who was still sitting on the sofa and smoking, "Do you know who the man sitting there is? He is the agent of 'Black Net' in New York, the shadow who controls the usury and human trafficking in half of this city. In front of him, a washed-up retiree like you, who can only swing your fists, isn't even dust on the ground."
She returned to the man in sunglasses, naturally straddling his lap, like a beautiful trophy, obediently resting her head on the man's shoulder.
The man in sunglasses patted Lila's thigh, his eyes looking at Reed with a playful and contemptuous expression. He didn't even bother to stand up, but waved his hand as if watching a farce: "Enough. Given that you put on a decent fight, get lost. A walking corpse whose soul has been sold by a woman, even killing you would be too dirty for my carpet."
Reed stood there, the brass knuckles in his hand as heavy as a thousand pounds. He watched Lila giggle as she lit a cigarette for the man, and listened to the mocking whispers of the socialites around him.
The truth was not the stray bullets on the battlefield, but this silent, cold, and utter humiliation.
He didn't know how he walked out of those magnificent golden doors. The rain in New York was heavier again, colder and dirtier than before. He stood on the empty street, letting the cold rain wash away the blood from between his fingers.