The Last Deal by Olivia Salter | Short Fiction

 

The Last Deal

by Olivia Salter

Word Count: 1073

 

Victor Casella leaned against the railing of the pier, staring out at the darkened horizon. The salty breeze stung his eyes, but he barely noticed. Anger tore at him, a fire that no amount of San Diego's cool coastal air could extinguish. His world had crumbled over the last few months, and every time he thought he’d hit bottom, his rival, Marcus Devereaux, found new ways to kick him while he was down.

The family-owned business that had been his pride for generations was now a mere shadow of its former self. Marcus, with his polished smile and ruthless tactics, had stolen contracts, poached clients, and spread insidious rumors that tarnished Victor's reputation. Alone, divorced, and estranged from his children, Victor felt like a hollow shell of the man who once commanded respect and love. Clenching his fists, he realized he had to fight back; he couldn’t let Marcus destroy everything he held dear.

As talks of a man named Halstead reached his ears, Victor's heart raced. Halstead was a reclusive figure, spoken of in hushed tones in the bars of La Jolla. He was rumored to offer solutions not found in courtrooms or boardrooms, dealing in shadows—and if anyone could bring Marcus to his knees, it would be him.

Victor turned away from the ocean and pulled his collar up against the chill. He recalled the last time he’d seen Halstead’s house during a charity event years ago—a night filled with laughter and hope. Now, the mansion seemed shadowy like a fortress, its facade hiding something darker beneath.

The heavy oak door creaked open as if anticipating his arrival. The warm, luxurious glow of Halstead’s modernist mansion felt at odds with the suffocating dread that filled the air. Victor hesitated on the threshold, his heart hammering. He had sworn he didn’t believe in magic or curses, yet after what Marcus had done, he found himself willing to embrace the supernatural.

“Victor,” a voice called from deeper inside. It was smooth, practiced—an invitation wrapped in charm. Victor followed the sound down a long, narrow hallway, passing modern art and sculptures that should have felt comforting but only heightened his sense of unease.

Halstead stood waiting in a nearly empty room lit only by flickering candles. Shorter than Victor remembered, with close-cropped silver hair and a well-tailored suit, Halstead’s unsettling gaze held an emptiness that chilled Victor’s soul.

“You came,” Halstead said, a knowing smile creeping across his face. “I thought you might.”

Victor took a shaky breath. “I need him gone,” he said, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Marcus Devereaux has destroyed everything. I’ve tried everything—nothing sticks. I need him out of my life—for good.”

Halstead walked slowly around the room, fingers brushing the back of a chair as though considering Victor’s worth. “You realize what you’re asking for isn’t a simple transaction. To end a life, especially the way you wish, there are consequences. For both of us.”

“I don’t care about the consequences.” Victor’s voice rose, desperation spilling over. “He’s taken everything from me. My business, my wife—my kids don’t even look at me the same. It’s like I’m already dead. If Marcus doesn’t go first, I’m finished.”

Halstead paused, his expression shifting. “And if I help you, you know what you’re giving up.”

Victor hesitated, staring at the floor. He hadn’t asked what it would cost. He hadn’t wanted to know.

“Your life isn’t what it once was, Victor. What do you think you have left to lose?” Halstead’s voice was almost gentle, coaxing Victor toward a decision hanging in the air. “You want your rival gone—your wish will come true. But understand—fate is delicate. When you ask for a life, you pull at threads that can unravel everything.”

Frustration bubbled within Victor. “What are you saying? That this comes back on me? There’s a price?”

Halstead smiled thinly, turning back to the candlelit table. “Every deal has a cost. The question is whether you’re willing to pay it.”

A small clay figure sat at the center of the table, crudely resembling Marcus down to the arrogant tilt of his chin. Halstead lifted it, tracing its shape with careful fingers.

Victor stared at it, feeling the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He could walk away, try to rebuild his life through conventional means. But the thought of Marcus, unscathed and thriving, ignited something dark within him.

“I’ll do it,” Victor said quietly, his voice steady. “I don’t care what it costs.”

Halstead’s smile widened as he struck a match. The tiny flame flickered before catching on the figure’s clay surface. As it burned, Victor felt something tighten in his chest—an invisible grip, cold and relentless.

“It begins now,” Halstead murmured. “By dawn, your rival will be no more.”

Victor’s throat went dry. The air felt heavier, thick with something that clawed at his lungs. His phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him from the trance. Fumbling, he pulled it out.

A news alert flashed across the screen: Marcus Devereaux found dead—apparent heart failure.

Victory surged through Victor, but it was fleeting, swallowed by a cold dread that seeped into his bones. “It’s done,” Halstead said, extinguishing the last of the candle. But his eyes remained fixed on Victor. “And so is your part of the bargain.”

“What are you talking about? He’s dead, right? That’s all I wanted.”

Halstead’s gaze darkened. “You’ve taken a life, Victor. Now, life will balance itself.”

A sharp pain shot through Victor’s chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping as the room spun. His vision blurred, the edges of the world fading to black. He collapsed, clutching at his chest.

In his final moments, Victor’s thoughts spiraled into regret. He had allowed anger and vengeance to consume him, blinding him to the reality of his choices. The warmth of his family’s love, the respect he once commanded—he had sacrificed it all.

As darkness surrounded him, a bitter realization settled in: he hadn’t just traded Marcus’s life—he had traded his own. The cost of vengeance had proven too high, and now he would never have the chance to reclaim what he had lost. 

In the depths of despair, Victor understood that true strength lay not in revenge but in the capacity to forgive, a lesson he had learned too late as the shadows closed in around him.