NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: The Devil's Son
Ridgeway Air Terminal
A sleepy highland airport, usually quiet, almost peaceful. But today, chaos brews beneath the surface.
A lanky, sharp-faced teen spins in frustration near the terminal entrance. Alexander Cotilla, a walking pile of bad decisions, glares toward the sliding glass doors.
"Where the hell have you guys been?" he hisses.
Two figures walk toward him; Kevin Fonseca, leather-jacketed and perpetually cocky, and Pablo Espinoza, draped in a ridiculously expensive tuxedo that screams Daddy's money.
They look like genuine mafia underlings, but in reality, they're just senior high schoolers on a school trip.
"Look what I got," Kevin smirks, pulling something from inside his jacket. A plastic bottle, yellow liquid sloshing inside.
Alex squints. "Wait… is that…?"
Pablo grins like a fox. "Gold Rum. The good stuff. Straight from my dad's collection."
Alex's mouth waters. He snatches the bottle. "No way! Can I…"
Kevin and Pablo exchange quick glances.
"Go ahead," Kevin says smoothly.
With all the arrogance of a teenager trying to impress his cool friends, Alex takes a swig. One gulp.
And immediately regrets it.
"PFFFT…!!"
He bends over, coughing, spitting the liquid onto the pavement. "What the hell is this?!"
Pablo wheezes with laughter. "Hope you liked it. Our Gold Rum."
"Gold Rum, my ass!" Alex gags. "That's straight-up PISS, you bastards!"
Kevin and Pablo burst into hysterics. Alex, red-faced with humiliation, hurls the bottle at them.
The bottle spins through the air. It's supposed to hit Pablo. Maybe Kevin. But instead…
SPLAT!!!
Fate has a cruel sense of humor. The bottle collides with someone nearby. Someone very dangerous.
Standing near a taxi, a sharp-featured young man, broad-shouldered, cold-eyed, is drenched in whatever the hell Alex just threw.
The name is Maximiliano Rodrigues, the last person you'd ever want to piss off, literally.
"Oh… no…" Alex whispers. His stomach drops to his feet.
Kevin leans in and whispers, "Run!"
Without hesitation, all three bolt back into the lobby, running erratically between crowds.
***
Inside the terminal…
Max steps into the bustling lobby, water dripping from his jaw. He doesn't shout, doesn't even curse. He simply walks, a silent storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.
Around him, whispers spread like wildfire.
"That's Max…"
"Yeah, him… the Devil's Son."
The nickname clings to him like a curse. Not because of anything he did, but because of his father, a ghost of a man, feared in the underworld, whose disappearance left behind nothing but rumors and an unwanted legacy.
Max never asked for it. Yet every whisper, every wary glance, keeps him shackled to it.
His sharp gaze scans the terminal, locking onto three idiots trying to blend into the crowd. Without a word, he strides forward.
In an instant, Alex is yanked by the collar.
"GAAAH…!!!" Alex flails.
Max cocks a fist back. But then…
"Everyone, line up for check-in!"
Mrs. Emanuella's voice pierces the tension. It's the school's homeroom teacher, blissfully unaware of the powder keg about to explode.
Max freezes. His knuckles tremble in the air.
"Don't you want to hit me?" Alex tries to act tough, despite the quiver in his lips.
Kevin smirks. "Calm down, Alex! I know he won't do it. He is all bark, no bite."
Max barely reacts. But then…
Pablo steps closer, his voice dripping with venom. "Didn't have this much hesitation when you stood there doing nothing in your mom's room… Four nights ago."
Max's heart stops.
His grip on Alex's collar loosens.
His brain scrambles.
"What… what did you just say?" his voice barely comes out.
Pablo leans in, eyes gleaming. "Oh yeah. Four nights ago." He pats Kevin on the shoulder. "I was there. Kevin, too."
A little bit of sad history, four nights ago, something terrible did happen. Max came home to find a stranger, an unknown man in his mother's bathroom, but he didn't get the chance to see the man's face before he ran through the window.
Not wanting more shame heaped upon the mother, he didn't report it to the police. He decided to keep it a secret and bury it deep in his memory.
But now…
"It was a sick bet I offered for some cash. And our dear Kevin won the prize," Pablo reveals the twist.
"Your mom…" Kevin grins, his eyes deadly cold. "Not bad, honestly. Tightest one I've had."
The words hit like a freight train. Max stares, his brain scrambling to process the implications. Denial sets in, this has to be a joke, another cruel prank.
"No… You're lying," he denies.
"Am I?" Pablo replies, pulling out his smartphone. He doesn't show the screen but hits play. The faint sound of a woman's desperate cries emerges from the phone.
[Don't… please… Max will come home… You are going hurt him…]
The airport around Max vanishes.
The walls, the crowd, the PA announcements, it all fades into nothing.
These two aren't just classmates. They are people he called friends when they were kids, quite close like brothers. And now, they've destroyed what little peace he had left in his life.
Max's body trembles. Anger and denial wrestle inside him. But…
"She sure knows how to beg," Kevin says, leaning closer. "You should watch the video. Who knows? You might end up liking it."
Right at this moment, something inside Max snaps. He barely hears the voices anymore. His breath is shallow. His heartbeat pounds in his ears.
And then, like a landmine being stepped in battlefield, he explodes with an unexpected huge swing.
CRACK!
Kevin's head whips back.
He crumples down, clutching his nose as blood gushes down his face, creating a crimson waterfall that would turn any vampires crazy.
"Aaarrgh! Fuck! My nose!!!"
Alex, like a loyal puppy, leaps onto Max trying to hold him back. But Max, blinded by rage, thrashes like a wild gorilla. He lunges toward Kevin, dragging Alex along for the ride.
At least there's one brave soul in the chaos. Daniella, a girl with sharp features and a calm presence, steps between them. She stretches her arms, blocking Max's path.
"That's enough, Max!" she shouts. "Don't stoop to their level! You're better than this!"
"Don't interfere, Daniella!" Max roars. "They deserve to die for what they've done!"
"Die?" Kevin groans, his voice dripping with defiance. "Like you really can kill me! You're just as useless as your old man."
The words ignite something deeper. Max raises his fist again. But Daniella, desperate, does something unexpected.
PLAK!!!
She slaps Max hard across the face.
"Look at yourself!" Daniella yells. "You're letting them win! And soon, you will bring more trouble to your mom, just like what your father did!"
Max's fist lowers, yet his breathing still ragged.
But before the situation can escalate further…
BANG! BANG!!!
Gunshots echo through the terminal. The crowd screams as a man in a clown mask bursts into the lobby, brandishing a Glock. Behind him, another masked figure enters, this one wearing a vest covered in explosives.
"Everyone calm down! If you call the cops, that's fine. We're counting on it. But anyone tries anything stupid, and my buddy here blows us all sky-high."
More terrorists enter the lobby, similar outfits, but holding AK-47. The airport falls silent as fear takes hold.
The air reeks of panic. Suitcases abandoned, a mother shielding her child, a businessman frozen mid-phone call.
But amidst the fear, Max's rage remains unbroken. He brushes Daniella aside, and lunges on Kevin once more.
Whm!
Bg, bg!
Dsh!!!
The crowd falls silent.
Blood paints the floor.
Panic turns into a stunned, suffocating stillness.
And the terrorists…
"Uh… boss? Were those two part of the plan?"
"No. But I kinda like their energy."
"Think we should recruit them?"
One of the men—a fat guy strapped with a bomb vest—grins and struts toward Max. His boots squelch against the cold tiles.
He claps a hand on Max's shoulder, like they're old friends.
"Hey, buddy! That's enough! You've impressed me already! Wanna join us after this?"
Max stops mid-punch. Turns. Stares straight into the man's beady little eyes.
A moment stretches. Suspense coils tight.
Then—
Dsh!
Max punches the guy square in the face. The hit is so fast, so brutal, that the entire terminal instinctively flinches.
Someone ducks, expecting the bomb to go off.
The fat man stumbles back, stunned.
But that's not the real surprise.
The detonator is gone.
Max stands still, fingers wrapped tight around the bomb's detonator. He exhales slowly, eyes locked onto the bomber.
He has all reasons to gone nuts. Humiliation, desperation, and just when he got the chance for revenge, this fat suicide bomber interfered.
"Enough with the bluffing." His grip tightens. Daring him. "Why don't we see God together and give Him our report?"
No hesitation. No second thought.
He jabs the detonator, and…
Click!
Too sad.
Click, click!!
The bomb stays silent, and the smirk on the terrorist leader's face tells Max everything he needs to know.
"Fffuck!"
The terrorist leader, unbothered, gestures to his associate, the Glock-wielding clown. And then…
Bang! Bang!!!
Two shots echo through the lobby. Everyone covers their mouths in terrified.
Max staggers, a sharp gasp ripping from his throat as twin bullets punch through his gut. The force drives him to his knees, his fingers trembling as they press against the wounds, warm blood spilling between them.