Etched in Ink (Etched #1)

Prologue

Kain

I typed the names of the most recent victims into the spreadsheet, saved it to the shared file, and copied it to my flash drive. A few more clicks, and I safely pulled the little black device out of my laptop.

I jerked back in my seat when Tony Hesselberg dumped a box filled with papers onto my desk. “He needs them done today.”

Tony had tired brown eyes, probably from the constant drinking and smoking, and habitually used too much gel to slick back his brown hair.

He wore a black suit today—attire that looked out of place for a man who typically wore T-shirts and jeans stained with blood.

At twenty-four, he was two years older than me, but smoking had made the skin on his cheeks sag and deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth, making him appear like a man in his forties.

My heart raced as I pretended to adjust the piles of paper with my flash drive still tucked into my palm.

Tony would kill me if he caught me stealing information.

My death would no doubt earn him points with Victor Hawthorne—the devil incarnate.

The serial killer who got richer with each death.

Like many others, I was a prisoner in this carefully guarded underground complex, forced to commit illegal and inhumane acts. But not for much longer.

I stared at the box of documents that was probably assigned to Tony. It wasn’t news that the lazy prick often gave his work to me. The only reason I never called him out on it was because the information from his boxes was pertinent data.

“What’s the rush?” I asked.

“We’re traveling tonight. Victor wants everything documented.”

That meant more names of people he’d killed for their organs. Keeping a list of the deceased and the respective buyers was Victor’s insurance if something were to go wrong with his clients. Me stealing that data was my collateral for when I escaped.

Hope surged, knowing they’d be gone tonight.

“Where are you going?” I asked, even though I knew he wouldn’t tell me.

Tony had already been here when I arrived at this heinous place.

He’d sold his soul to the devil and was now one of Victor’s trusted men.

It was hard not to give in to the daily pressure.

Victor wanted his victims to be broken and hopeless, so they would regard him as their only option.

But I remembered my life before this—it gave me strength to hold on to hope.

My mother was probably worried sick about me.

Was she still searching for me? Did she think I was dead?

“Mind your own business, Kain,” he huffed. “Don’t you remember anything Hawthorne taught you? Do the job, don’t ask questions, keep your mouth shut, and you will live another day.”

“All right,” I replied, not wanting any confrontation that would put me in the spotlight. “You’re the lucky one who gets to go out and see the city.”

Though I’d wanted to pound his face over the five years I’d been here, I had to play this game cautiously. I didn’t need Tony to suspect me of anything.

“You’ll get your turn soon enough.” He shoved my shoulder with a force that had my body shifting, disrupting the soreness in my back. “No one is better at logging data than you.”

“Just trying to be like you, Tony.” I forced a smile and winced from the pain, which he probably thought resulted from me hauling bricks for the recent addition being built somewhere near this complex.

He smiled proudly. “Keep working hard, and you’ll be rewarded. Maybe he’ll even let you see your family.”

I doubted that. I wasn’t on the same shiny list as Tony or the others. These men kidnapped, killed, and did anything Hawthorne wanted. Tony had mentioned visiting his sister several times, but I wasn’t sure if Hawthorne gave him permission or if Tony did it regardless.

How was my mother doing? The thought of her brought on a wave of anxiety and sadness. So I turned my attention back to showering Tony with compliments.

“Doing my best,” I said, maintaining my serious expression. “Victor trusts you. I hope to be like you one day.”

He beamed, adjusting his suit. “I’m a trustworthy asset.”

“You’re the man.” I pretended to sound disappointed. “How long will you be gone?”

He shrugged. “Maybe two days? He has a big meeting in New York.”

I wanted to ask who they were meeting when Andrew Snow and Ben Tilling entered the room, also dressed in suits.

Andrew sported short blond hair, while Ben’s was brown.

Tony immediately straightened his posture, nodding to them.

I scowled at his response as bitterness formed in my mouth.

Andrew and Ben were former military men, now part of Victor’s security team.

They had no trouble shooting people dead on the spot.

I’d seen it happen twice already. At least Tony acknowledged and spoke to me, whereas these guys thought they were better.

I’d never forget how Andrew and Ben kidnapped me.

They were the reason I was here in this hellish place.

The desire to kill them soared in me. I’d get my vengeance soon.

They were dragging two large coolers on wheels, each about twenty-two inches long, twenty inches high, and sixteen inches in depth, the kind you’d see at an outdoor event.

These coolers held organs ready to be packaged.

The men stopped near us, and I studied the labels on the coolers.

One cooler had J. Masterson, while the other had C.

Loomer. Two more people had succumbed to Victor’s profits.

The man had several bank accounts to which I didn’t have access.

The documents I saw had the account numbers redacted.

“These are next in line,” Andrew said to Tony, ignoring me.

I wasn’t an important figure, just a prisoner forced to work for a psychopath who killed people only to remove their organs and sell them on the black market.

“Got it.” Tony opened the door to the other room where my friends were working. I couldn’t believe I had made three friends in this dark place where friendship seemed surreal. Andrew and Ben wheeled the coolers through, dropping them with a loud thud.

“You can work on those coolers with the others while we’re gone,” Tony said as he headed toward the door. “Don’t slack off. Razor will keep an eye on everything.”

“Literally,” I muttered.

A laugh burst from Tony. “You’re an ass. Don’t let him hear you say that, or he’ll remove your eye.”

When Tony left, I tucked the flash drive into my sock and rose from the chair.

My fingers felt dirty and sticky, and I wiped them off on my jeans, but the sensation remained.

Victor had gotten wealthy from the organ black market.

I didn’t even know this business existed until I was forced to extract my first organ, wash it, and prepare it for the buyer.

I stared at my hands, feeling the atrocity I’d committed.

It’s not your fault. You did what was necessary to survive.

I looked toward the other room where three terrified boys needed me.

They were like my younger brothers, looking up to me for reassurance even though there were times I was uncertain too.

Godfrey, Hudson, and Timber hadn’t crossed over to the dark side like Tony had. Like me, they still clung to hope.

I was about to go see my friends when Razor stepped in, filling the room with his muscular form.

He was my age with chin-length dark hair that was tied into a low ponytail at the back.

He wore a gray T-shirt over leather pants that matched the leather eyepatch covering his right eye.

The left side of his face was deformed from an accident he never discussed.

I didn’t know his real name. When I first met him, I cringed at the sight of him.

But despite his deformity, there was something genuine about him.

Razor and I had formed a bond over the years through art—something I’d lost for a while.

He’d taught me how to tattoo. We’d gotten closer this past year after he returned from a medical facility that treated Victor’s men under the radar.

Razor had taken a bullet for Victor when his enemy sent an assassin.

Razor was responsible for tattooing a cross formed by two stems of black roses on everyone within the organization.

Some had it on their faces, others on their fingers, arms, or backs.

Razor had his on his left forearm, and mine was on my right bicep.

Maybe Victor had a twisted version of religion, or maybe he wanted to create his own.

He had offices in other states, but I didn’t know anyone outside of this complex.

Right now, Victor was inside his office, which was adjacent to the complex.

“How’s your back?” Razor asked.

“Not bad.” I stretched from side to side, trying to ease the soreness from the art he’d etched into my back three days ago.

I’d drawn a composition of things I loved and didn’t want to forget; Razor had turned my drawings into tattoos.

Though I didn’t see those tattoos like the ones on my arms, chest, and abdomen, I knew they were there.

Moving those bricks last night had increased the discomfort.

Razor glanced at the door where Tony had left, then looked at me. “Tonight. It’s time.”

“Really?” My heart leaped, wondering if it was a dream. “Victor’s death? Our escape?”

The map to my escape was etched on my forearm, allowing me to reference it easily.

Razor’s single blue eye intensified as he nodded.

“Most of the men are leaving with Victor. It’s a big meeting that involves a lot of powerful people. Something about a multimillion-dollar construction project. There won’t be many guards here. I’ll deal with the ones stationed at the main gate.”