Chapter 4
It’s crazy what a few weeks can do. The Order has gotten more popular in recent years, drawing in new recruits at an exponential rate. Maybe it’s the freedom to release our merciless violence it grants us, or perhaps it’s the promise of leaving an old life behind. Whatever the reason, we have held several initiation ceremonies in the seven weeks that Owen has been gone.
I set down my tattoo gun and wave for the last initiate to rise, my hand cramping from the multitude of tattoos I’ve had to do today alone. Pushing off my stool, I look over the kneeling crowd. “You know why you’re here.” My voice echoes in the silent room.
Crossing my arms, I peer down my nose. “I’m not going to give you a flowery speech. I’m not going to tell you everything is shits and giggles from here on out.” Walking closer, I stop directly in front of one of the men, waiting for him to look up at me. I hold his gaze as I warn, “What I will say is, if you try to return to your old lives,” I pause, running my stern gaze over the rest of the new members. “If you attempt to cross the Order of Death in any way, I can promise you will wish you were never born.”
Turning my back to them, I walk out of the room, calling behind me, “Welcome to hell, boys.” The phrase has become my new calling card, my final greeting to each new soul that joins our ranks.
Once out of earshot, I pull my phone out, pressing the number and holding it to my ear. The call rings twice before going to an automated voicemail, a notification buzzing shortly after. Hanging up without leaving a message, I pull up the text.
T
What do you want?
I glare at the screen.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Blowing a heavy breath through my nose, I close my eyes and push down the rage threatening to consume me, reminding myself it doesn’t matter the method of conversation.
Me
I need a job.
T
Give me 20.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I head to my car, my body buzzing with the need to release some of the constant anger.
“If you don’t get your shit together, Zayn, you’re going to end up all alone.”
The words flow over me again as they do frequently. The broken begging of a woman long gone. A woman who didn’t deserve what happened to her because of my irrationality.
Blood. So much blood.
Her crumbled body is lying in an awkward position. Bones broken, beaten to a pulp, once flawless skin now marred by cuts deep enough to scar if she were still alive.
I shake my head furiously to clear the haunting image. There’s nothing I can do for her now. It was my fault and what did I do with the knowledge? Sure as shit didn’t change for the better.
I stare down at her grave, an overwhelming emptiness suffocating me from the inside out.
A hand lands on my shoulder, startling me from my thoughts. I look toward the person standing beside me in the otherwise empty graveyard. “We’ll find who did this.” Parker reassures, squeezing his hand.
I look back toward the gravestone and nod.
He doesn’t know that I know who is responsible for her death, that I can’t get the bastard’s face out of my head no matter how hard I’ve tried.
I haven’t told anyone, because it’s my fault this happened. But when I do find the man who stole her from me, because I will find him, I’ll make sure he pays for his part in this.
Slamming my foot down on the gas pedal, I speed off toward my current safe house, needing to busy my hands before I explode.
Despite my vow, I have yet to find the man to enact my revenge. So in his stead, I take out my rage and pain on those marked for death by our society.
I pull up to the secluded cabin, really more of a shack, but I don’t need anything fancy. Climbing out of the car, I stride inside the small building and work on gathering my supplies. Even without details, I know that I’ll need certain items. My pistol, carving knife, rope, zip ties, gloves. A killer”s kit, if you will.
As I’m cleaning my gun, a buzz comes from my pocket.
Fucking finally.
T
secure link
I click the link and wait for my phone to scan my retinas, allowing access to the files Tavish has put together.
Arnold Bostlin
Perusing the details, I make a quick plan before returning to my prep. Some of the agitation settling at the promise of an outlet.
Does it make me feel guilty for unleashing my inner beast on unsuspecting members of the population? No.
Should it? Maybe.
Not like I could give a fuck anyway. Those I’m sent after already have their days numbered, I’m simply the instrument the reaper uses to enact their deaths. And fuck if I don’t enjoy it.
“Oh yeah, baby, you like that?”
I sigh heavily, instantly regretting the decision to take this job. Before I can think too much into it, I throw the door open, reveling in the look of terror on the man’s face when he sees me.
“What the fuck?” Arnold shouts, frozen on his knees. His dick is nestled inside some girl who looks to be strung out.
I raise an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Prostitutes, huh?” Crossing my arms, I lean back against the door frame.
Arnold bristles. Why he’s offended is ridiculous to me, he’s the one that bought the whore.
Pushing off the door frame, I close the door, flicking the lock. With my back to the two, I pull out my pistol and screw on the silencer.
“The fuck are you doing?” Arnold snaps, his voice grating at my already frayed nerves. Slowly turning around, I meet his furious gaze with my own. The anger on his face drains along with the color in his cheeks, replaced by fear as his eyes land on the gun clasped in my hand. Raising his hands, he stammers, “Lo-look man, I don’t want no trouble.” As he releases his hold on the girl, she collapses onto the bed, eyes glassy. A small part of me feels bad knowing what I’ll need to do.
No witnesses.
There are few rules in our world. This being one of the most important. A witness can talk, and it only takes one domino falling to destroy the whole stack.
My eyes still locked on her, I raise the gun, pulling the trigger without a second thought. Arnold shrieks, ripping away from the now lifeless hooker. Clambering away, he falls off the bed, landing dick first on the floor.
His howls fill the room, no doubt alerting the other patrons, not that they’d care. The positive of hunting this sleazeball down to a dirty pay by the hour hotel is that everyone minds their own business. After all, what sounds like cries of agony could be coming from the throes of passion if done correctly.
Pushing away the desire that creeps up at the thought, I move to take care of Arnold. As I turn, my eyes lock on the dead girl. The blood pouring from her forehead fills my vision.
Blood. So much blood.
I blink, trying to bring myself back to reality. My eyes crack open and I find myself standing over Arnold’s mangled body. I raise my shaking hands, finding them now covered in blood.
What the fuck?
Lowering my hands back to my sides, I look at the corpse beneath me. What once was his face has been caved in, arms and legs bent at unnatural angles. His stomach has been sliced open, bloodied intestines hanging from the wound.
What just happened?
I’ve never blacked out before. Sure, I’ve gone a bit mad and a tad uncontrollable at times, but never fully lost time. Not like this.
Realizing I have one hell of a mess to clean up, I get to work erasing any evidence I was there. The last thing I need is for Owen to find out about this. If he does, I won’t just be a man living as a ghost, I’ll be full-blown Casper.