7. Adam
A few hours ago
Ididn’t go home last night. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t lie down. I couldn’t do a damn thing without feeling like my skin was too tight. There was too much crap rattling around in me. Adrenaline still spiking, panic hanging on like a bad high.
And guilt.
That sneaky, gut-rotting kind that digs in and won’t shut the hell up.
I took off on the bike, wishing that speed might rip it all out of my head. I punched a couple trash cans, I went for a run till my lungs burned, I had a drink—or maybe three.
None of it worked.
Her eyes. Those damn, tear-filled eyes staring right at me, begging me not to leave.
She asked me to stay. She cried… Hell, she cried in front of me, like she thought I might actually do it.
But I didn’t.
I left her there, holding her own mess like it was mine to clean up. I don’t owe her anything—that’s the truth. No promises or debts.
But still.
Fuck, I’m a mess …
Anyway, today’s a new day. Fresh start, right? New, beautifully fucked-up things waiting for me. And finally, I get to take that bastard out. About damn time.
I walk into the abandoned fabric factory—the same place we always meet and train. Nothing fancy. Just rust, dust, cracked concrete, and the smell of old blood.
Time to talk about my new task.
I need to dig up everything there is to know about him. Where he eats, where he sleeps, who he trusts, who he fucks, what he’s too stupid to hide. And when the time’s right, I’ll make sure he chokes on his own blood.
As I head to the old machine room, everyone is already there. Seems I’m late.
“Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Alaric mocks, clapping his hands once. “I apologize for not adorning the place with flowers to welcome you.”
“Flowers could work. They always give a nice touch until someone’s bringing them to your corpse.” I wink. “I like daisies, for the record.”
“Always running that smart mouth. Same filthy piece of shit,” Adrian hisses, his hand tight on the gun.
Alaric stops him with a raised hand, eyes locked on mine.
“What’s that look on your face? You getting jealous or just insecure?” I say, grinning at him.
Adrian’s face twists. “You fucking—”
“Sit down,” Alaric says, his voice filling the abandoned building.
Adrian steps back, swallowing whatever he was about to say, and I hold his stare until he looks away.
“Good dog,” I mutter, not even bothering to lower my voice.
Alaric’s stare never leaves me. “Where have you been?”
“Didn’t realize my absence hurt your feelings,” I mock, crossing my arms.
The others look at me like I’ve completely lost it.
Everyone knows Alaric is a cruel son of a bitch, and most people stay out of his way for a reason. But I couldn’t care less.
He can’t touch me. I’ve got nothing to lose, no one to protect, no soft spots to poke at. All those cute little threats and collateral damage tactics mean nothing to me.
“I don’t have feelings.” He prowls closer, placing his hands behind his back, his eyes locked on me and a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Feelings are for the weak. You’re not weak, are you?”
Ah, here goes the unnecessary dark talk, just to draw all eyes to him.
“You should know by now if I’m weak or not,” I shoot back, eyes fixed on the void.
Alaric lets out an evil laugh that reverberates through the room. Such a show-off.
“That’s why I picked you for Anderson: ‘cause you’re the only one dumb enough—and tough enough—to go toe-to-toe with him.”
I catch a few scoffs around the room. The rest of the gang didn’t like that much. Figures.
“I won’t fight him. I’ll dismantle him.”
“That’s it,” he hisses, emanating pride for his killing machine. “That’s my beast.” He prowls closer, circling me. “No, no. You’re a hero, Manson. You’ll clean the society from one more sick bastard.”
Hero …
A word that, until last night, held a different meaning and a different gravity. A word made to offer security and relief to people who hear it. But I’m not a hero. I never wanted to become one.
So why the fuck do I feel this guilty for walking away?
Without thinking, my hand drifts to my pants pocket. I reach in and pull its contents out, opening my palm.
Her hair pin. So delicate and adorned with tiny white orchids that gave her that quiet, elegant style.
I only saw her once, but that one time was enough. I saw her smile, cry, bleed, beg, and be disappointed.
And fuck, all I want to do is to see her again. More than I want to kill off that bastard Anderson.
My fingers curl back, securing the pin in my palm.
“You know, Alaric, I don’t think I can do it.”
He halts and slowly turns to face me. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, something came up. You need to assign it to someone else.”
“I didn’t ask if you were available. I gave you an order.”
My eyes land on Michael. He’s watching me with that familiar look of quiet disappointment. I know he wants this job, maybe more than I do—at least, that’s what he keeps saying—but he still won’t speak up to Alaric.
I hold his stare for a second too long. “Find someone else to play hero. I’m done.”
“You what?!” Michael barks with eyes wide.
Adrian smiles widely, not even trying to hide his glee.
“Hey, maybe Michael can kill Leo.” I smile brightly.
“Shut your mouth. You’re not finished until I say you are.” He paces calmly towards me. “You breathe in this world because I let you.” Shit’s getting serious. I hit a nerve. “You don’t walk away until I say you do. I own you, Manson. Don’t forget that.”
No one talks—they barely breathe.
I click my tongue. “Are you done with the monologue, or is there a second act?”
The moment he reaches for his gun, so do I. His barrel finds my forehead just as mine presses against his chest, lined up perfectly with his heart, right where it’d ruin his day.
Kiss my ass, fucker.
His eyes are dark with fury he barely controls.
My smile widens as I return his cold, sinister stare. “Scared to go toe-to-toe with me?”
The gun rattles in his palm as he realizes that I’m not afraid and nothing comes from killing me. Maybe he even loves me.
Aww …
My expression doesn’t change. I stare dead in his dark eyes, waiting for him to back down.
And then, he does. Finally. He puts his gun down and turns his back.
“No one quits the fraternity,” he growls quietly, walking away. “He’s all yours, boys.”
Adrian’s smile becomes broader. “Bye, bitch,” he says, then scurries back to Daddy’s side.
I roll my eyes.
Everyone pulls their knives and balls up their fists.
He was right. No one quits the fraternity. If I want out, they’ll have to kill me first.
I’ve done it once or twice myself to some other poor bastards who thought they could escape this madness.
The thing is … I am their commander. I shaped every instinct they have, and I know exactly where they’ll fail. I know their habits, their triggers, their weak spots.
Max always leaves his left side open when he lunges. He never listened. Milo stalls when the target talks. He needs silence to pull the trigger clean. Pathetic …
I built these motherfuckers, trained them to survive, yet they still want to go against me.
I shake my head and put her hair pin back in my pants pocket. I throw the gun on the ground.
“This is going to be fun.” I click my tongue. “Let’s see what uncle Adam taught you.”