Yours to Take (Twisted Origins #1)
Prologue
“Let’s play a little game, shall we?”
Although he concealed his voice with a voice changer, he still knew it caused a shiver of fear to run down his victim’s spine. He had worked for months perfecting his technique, making sure that not only did they know he was coming, but they knew who was coming for them as well.
As he watched his current victim through the windows of their home, he knew he had done his job perfectly.
It was easy to watch his victim’s every move when they were so careless. The office into which he peered boasted floor-to-ceiling windows and double doors leading out to a nice little patio that was a perfect vantage point for the masked man hiding in the dark.
Men like Nico Santino were cocky, thinking guns and muscle could save them. But the four men currently bleeding out on his front lawn proved that not to be the case. The predator outside wiped the crimson blood from his blade on the shirt of one of the dead bodyguards, using the other hand to hold his burner phone to his ear, his eyes never leaving his mark.
Everyone in the underground crime rings of the city knew that once you got the call and heard the taunting from the Portland Slasher, your time was up, and you were about to messily and painfully meet your maker.
“You don’t scare me,” the man said, foolishly pulling a Glock from his desk drawer. His gaze darted frantically around the room, scanning every shadow and crevice. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he pivoted, the gun shaking in his white-knuckled grip. The silence seemed to mock him as he searched desperately for his unseen tormentor. His gaze barely lingered on the windows, proving just how careless his fear was making him.
The Portland Slasher’s chilling laugh echoed through the room, Nico thinking that putting it on speakerphone would somehow lessen the threat. He watched the victim fumble with his pitiful weapon and adrenaline surged through his veins. This fool, with his trembling hands on that insignificant Glock, had no idea what was about to happen to him.
“I take it you’ve been watching the news lately, considering the fact you moved to your safe house, Nico,” he taunted, wanting this vile man to piss his pants in fear, to feel like he wasn’t as powerful as he thought. It was the least he deserved for all the young girls he’d sold off the streets and murdered.
In the city of Portland, Nico Santino was one of the lowest and most disgusting criminal specimens. When girls went missing, he was usually the one behind it. He was the biggest asset to the human trafficking ring in Oregon. He never shied away from his fair share of the young girls, marking them with his DNA and haunting their nightmares.
“Your blood is going to look so beautiful when it paints the floor you’ve used your dirty money to buy,” the Slasher taunted, his voice distorted, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He was an incredibly patient man when it came to his kills, always wanting to draw them out and instill as much fear as possible. Let them think he wasn’t as dangerous as he seemed. It made the kill that much better, the surprise that much more satisfying.
“Guess which door of your house I’m at, and I’ll consider letting you live,” the masked vigilante challenged, watching the phone shake in his victim’s hand. That was his favorite part of the game. Even if Nico guessed correctly, he’d still be dying tonight.
“You’ve made a mistake coming here,” Nico said, turning slowly around his office, one hand shakily holding his gun and the other pressing the phone to his ear, the masked man’s voice no longer echoing in the room.
“You’ve made the mistake of thinking four men was all it would take to keep you safe from me,” the Portland Slasher said before he burst through the balcony doors, sending glass flying everywhere and catching Nico Santino entirely off guard, just as he’d hoped.
As glass littered the floor, Nico raised his gun, but he wasn’t quick enough. The masked man was already towering above him, and he could do nothing as the man plunged a large knife into his chest and shoved it down, down, down until Nico fell to his knees and the Slasher’s face towered over him.
“How does it feel? To be powerless, unable to stop what is happening to you?” the masked man asked, venom lacing his tone as his real voice emerged. He wanted his true voice and eyes to be the last things Nico Santino heard and saw before life left him. “This is what happens to filth like you. The predator becomes the prey.” With one swift yank on the blade, the Portland Slasher sliced to the side, spilling Nico’s intestines all over the floor.
The Portland Slasher used Nico’s shirt to wipe the dark red blood off of his knife and took in the masterpiece he’d created before him. Just as he’d told his victim, his blood looked stunning as it spread on the marble floor.
The man took his time, using his gloved hands to arrange Nico’s entrails into the shape of a heart, his latest signature and defining mark. He knew it would be plastered all over the television and that all the men who thought they were so powerful would hear about it.
He was counting on it. It was so much more fun when his prey was fearful and knew that he was coming.
It was the most beautiful thing Nico Santino had created, and in his death, women around the city would feel safer walking down the streets at night.
This was the Slasher’s vigilante mission, his life’s purpose. He wanted to turn every bit of filth in the city into something beautiful and rid the world of one less piece of trash.
He smiled at the massacre he’d caused before slipping through the broken glass and back into the night.