Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
One of the monks, an elderly man with a face wrinkled like a dried riverbed, approached me immediately, his saffron robe swishing softly against the stone floor. He seemed to be able to read my mind. Or maybe he simply welcomed everyone who came to his temple.
“Come,” he said, guiding me towards a secluded corner of the temple. There we sat, cross-legged on plush cushions. His gaze didn’t waver from mine as he instructed me in the ways of meditation—breathing in, breathing out, focusing on nothing but the rhythm of life flowing in and out.
Days turned into weeks under his patient guidance. A diet of simple rice and lentils sustained me as I delved deeper into the ancient practice. Each morning we began before dawn, welcomed by the soft light filtering through the temple’s stained-glass windows. The vibrant colors danced around us as we meditated to the backdrop of the city’s awakening.
As the days waned and the nights befell Kathmandu, the monk and I continued our practices under the star-speckled sky. Sounds of the city slowly faded away, replaced by the soothing whispers of nature and the rhythmic drone of our own breaths. His teachings gradually seeped into my mind, calming the tempest within, layer by layer.
After several weeks of this strict regimen, I am finally beginning to feel at peace.
One morning, as we sit in quiet contemplation, an epiphany washes over me like a wave crashing against a distant shoreline. The guilt, once a constant companion, is now but a mere whisper in contrast to my newfound serenity. I realize that it has been my choice to carry it, to let it fester and dictate my actions.
“You have arrived at a fork in your path,” the monk says. “One path carries forth the guilt, while the other brings the promise of release and forgiveness.”
Patience settles over me as I consider his wisdom. The choice seems easier now with this newfound clarity—to continue my journey shackled by the guilt of leaving Mikey, probably causing his death. Of killing Misha in Bucharest.
As the weeks have folded into months, I’ve discovered a tranquility within me I had not known before. Each moment becomes an opportunity for mindfulness, each breath a reminder of the beauty of existence.
My days continue, filled with meditation, introspection, and a tranquility that seems as perennial as the stone walls of the temple. The city of Kathmandu thrums around us, but inside our little haven, time seems to stand still.
Until the monk approaches me, a serious look on his wrinkled face.
He lays a hand on my shoulder. “These walls are for learning, contemplation, Vincent.”
I nod.
“You have learned, you have contemplated, but now…” His eyes shine with a mix of pride and urgency. “You stand at the precipice of transformation. You’ve reached the limits of what this place can offer you. I have given you all the wisdom I possess. It is time.” He gestures to the temple gates. “Go now, with the strength of your spirit. Embrace the unknown. Continue your journey, and live your life to its fullest potential.”
Present Day…
Turns out the guilt was never truly gone. It was just on sabbatical. And as for my fullest potential? I doubt the monk—whose name I never knew—would consider what I’m doing to be living to my fullest potential.
But it’s what I have to do.
Sometimes, you’re faced with a choice, and you choose protection of your loved ones.
Sometimes, you confront yourself and find that your morals aren’t what you thought they were. You’re more morally gray than you ever imagined.
And sometimes, when you listen to your intuition—and your grandfather—you find out things you don’t want to know.
I need to speak to Austin Bellamy.
And I need to speak to him today.
29
RAVEN
Waiting is the worst.
I have new respect for my parents and brothers and sister. All the waiting they did when I was stuck in the hospital, whether it was in my room sitting with me or eating the crappy hospital food.
“I’m hungry,” I tell Jared.
“Let’s get you something to eat, then.”
I bite my lip. “I was thinking maybe you could bring me something. Like a turkey sandwich. That sounds good.”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand how this works yet, Raven,” he says. “I’m paid to protect you. Which means I don’t leave you alone. I’m a bodyguard, not an errand boy.”
I blink. “You really think I wouldn’t be safe in a hospital waiting area?”
“Especially not in any kind of public area. There was no security at the entrance to this hospital. People can come in here with guns and pepper spray and anything else.”
“But Jared, really? You think someone is going to try to harm me here?”
His gaze darkens as he stares me down. “Right now, Mario Bianchi is in this hospital, so there’s no way I am leaving your side.”
I rise. I have to admire his devotion to his duties. Or to his paycheck, whichever is guiding him. “Fine. Let’s go get something to eat. But as long as Vinnie is here, I’m not leaving this hospital.”