Chapter Eighteen
Zayden
After Dominic did an extensive deep dive, we found out everything we needed to know about Alexander Coombs.
Including the home address of his brother, who resides just outside New York City.
I cut off his head and a few other body parts before I shoved them into a sack, then we made the road trip to his brother’s house.
You never know when he might be in the mood for a family reunion!
Especially if he doesn’t feel like chatting with us.
I can’t lie, walking around with a sack of body parts during Christmastime makes me feel a little like Santa.
Maybe I’ll even assemble them neatly beneath the Christmas tree if we have the time for it.
Before we left, I also packed a goodie bag.
I’ve been trying to tame the demons inside me when we’re at the house for my kids’ sake, but that piece of shit threatened my family.
He sent pictures of my wife to the very man after her, after us all, so naturally every person he’s ever come into contact with should die a slow death.
That being said, there’s no reason I shouldn’t get to have a little fun with it—it’s the holidays after all!
Griggs drives us to the brother’s shitty-ass apartment.
It’s in a sketchy part of town, so you’d really think he’d have better locks on his door.
Alas, it takes no effort at all to pick the lock, and soon I’m tiptoeing into the house with two sacks over my shoulder.
I have an eager smirk on my face to complete the moment, really making me feel like a dupe of the Grinch or something.
Because I can’t help myself, I start humming under my breath before a hand smacks the back of my head.
“Are you seriously humming The Grinch theme song?” Dominic hisses.
“I’m getting into the holiday spirit!” I whisper with a smile.
He shoots me an outraged look, then glances around us. “We’re on a fucking job—get your head in the game.”
I look him up and down with disgust. “Your attitude,” I say with a shake of my head. “Hate, hate, hate… LOATHE entirely.”
“Zayden,” he grits out.
I laugh lightly, shaking my head as I continue walking. Why does he always have such a stick up his ass? According to Dominic’s research, Phillip Coombs lives alone with no partner or kids, so it really is simple.
Dom went over the plan about a hundred fucking times in the car—we have to question him first—as if he knows how bloodthirsty I am. Like he knows that the demons inside of me are clawing at my flesh, begging to be released.
Griggs and Dominic scan the place, weapons drawn, while I skip through the house.
There’s no need for all of that. I have not a doubt in the world this sad sack is unsuspecting as hell.
To prove myself right, I push open the bedroom door and find a prematurely balding man with a keg for a belly stretching a white sweat-stained tank top.
The room has an odor that doesn’t please me, and I wrinkle my nose at the offensive smell.
What is wrong with some men? A bar of soap is not the enemy.
I turn to Griggs and Dominic as I shake my head. “Grab Stinky and bring him into the living room. I’m not working in there,” I say as I move to the living room, where I set my bags beside the Christmas tree, then take my time unpacking my goodies.
I hear a gasp of surprise come from the room before the sound of struggling.
Then Griggs is dragging him across the floor by what little hair he has left and Dominic sets him in a chair.
Moving around the Christmas tree, I find the plug and push it into the outlet.
The entire room illuminates with colored lights, and I clap my hands, prepared to get to work.
“Rope,” Griggs says.
I nod as I reach into my bag and hand him the rope I grabbed, though I did dress it up a bit.
“Red garland?” Dominic asks, assessing the sparkly rope.
“Garland wrapped around rope,” I reply as I begin tying him to the chair with it.
Griggs and Dominic both exchange a look and shake their heads before Phillip begins babbling.
“What’s going on? Where am I? What do you want?”
“That’s entirely dependent on what you can give us, Phillip Morris Coombs, born at St. Martha’s Hospital in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, on September 9th at 6:42 PM—6lbs 2oz.”
“So he wasn’t always a fat fuck?” I ask.
“Not at all,” Dominic says before looking back to the man who’s as white as a ghost.
“H-how do you know me? Why are you here?” he stumbles.
“We’re here for… information,” Dominic says cryptically. “Your survival is dependent upon the helpfulness of your information, so let’s just cut to it, shall we?”
He nods shakily as Dominic tilts his head to the side with curiosity.
“Your brother recently was given orders to follow a woman. Why?”
Phillip frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I don’t talk to my brother.”
Dominic just looks at me, as if giving me permission, and I practically skip over to him, delivering a hearty punch to his mouth that has a few teeth skittering across the floor before Dom continues.
“Let’s try that again because either your phone company is lying, or you are. I saw records of you having a phone call with him just yesterday morning.”
His eyes frantically move between the three of us before his muscles flex like he’s attempting to free himself. When he realizes he can’t strong-arm his way out of this, he heaves a few breaths and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know much. I—”
I match my last hit on his other side, keeping him even of course. Blood runs out of his mouth and down his chin as Griggs grabs him by the throat, snarling into his face.
“Cut the shit or we’ll end your pathetic life right here and now.”
I pout at that. I’ll be seriously pissed if they take away my fun with a bullet to the head. I’m already annoyed that I didn’t get to let out some much-needed frustration on his dear old brother. This tight-lipped fucker isn’t saying shit, though.
Shaking my head, I crouch down to my other bag as I speak over my shoulder. “He’s not going to talk, guys. He’s loyal. You’ll talk to your brother, though, right?”
“Alex? He’s here?” Phillip pants. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll talk. If Alex says it’s okay, I’ll talk.”
I nod at that. Perfect.
As fast as I’m able, I stick my hand inside Alexander’s head, fashioning it to fit into his jaw like it’s a puppet.
I may or may not have hollowed out part of his head at the house with the very intention of doing this.
It actually looks creepy as fuck, the stuff nightmares are made of.
I can’t help but giggle at how completely fucked up it is, but I’ve always wanted to try my hand at ventriloquism.
Ha. Get it? Try my hand?
When I turn around, I push the head puppet out in front of Phillip’s face and do my best not to move my mouth as I work Alexander’s jaw.
“Please, Phillip! Tell them what they want to know. It’s okay, I won’t be mad.”
Horror claws itself across Phillip’s face, his brain clearly struggling to put together what his eyes are seeing.
“Zayden, what the fuck?” Dominic sighs.
“That’s fucking disgusting,” Griggs says with a grimace.
I can’t help but snicker as I focus on our target, who looks like he’s about to blow chunks all over himself. I worked really hard on that garland. If he pukes on it, I’m gonna be pissed.
“Y-you killed him,” Phillip strangles out, a tear falling down his face.
“Actually no!” I say as I look at the head, working the jaw some more as I do. “I know it looks bad and all, but do you see this hole right here?” I say as I move the head puppet closer, just inches away from his face.
Phillip attempts to lean away from it, trying to look anywhere but at him… or it… or whatever.
“That wasn’t from us. That was from his buddies. Yeah, turns out he wasn’t a track star when it came to evading, and when they thought he was going to get caught, they shot him and drove away. Any idea who those guys might have been?”
He looks to me with surprise. “Jacob killed him?”
Dom takes a step back, his fingers now flying across his phone screen.
“It would appear so. Does Jacob have a last name?” I ask.
Phillip shakes his head. “I don’t know it. Alex started working with him when…”
“When Desmond Volkov faked his death and employed him?” Griggs fills in.
He looks to Griggs with surprise, like he’s confused how we could possibly get that kind of information. I see why Desmond only picked up the one brother—this one is dumber than a box of rocks.
“You got an address for Jacob? A phone number?” I ask.
He shakes his head, and my patience begins to slip. I toss the puppet to the side—because even with my gloves, it’s starting to make my fingers pruney, and I absolutely hate that feeling—then grip his face with my blood-soaked glove.
The head hits the ground with a thunk before doing a quarter roll. Ironically, the eyes stay open and are pointed directly at Phillip. Phillip’s eyes stay on Alexander’s before moving to mine.
“He said Desmond wanted him to follow a girl. That intel said she’d be vulnerable. He was supposed to confirm the target and then grab her. Kill anyone who got in his way.”
For a moment, my joy slips as I allow his words to sink in properly. “And do what with her?” I ask as my body begins to shake.
He shakes his head. “Wait for further instruction.”
An eye for an eye. That’s what Desmond was thinking no doubt. I killed his sister, so he wants to kill my wife, probably torture her. Maybe worse.
I release Phillip’s face with a rough shake, then take a step back, turning to my goodie bag.
“That’s all I know, I swear,” Phillip says as I turn back around, this time with a meat cleaver in my hand.
“I know.” If his brother had been working for the Four Horsemen for this long, he wasn’t a snitch, meaning he wouldn’t have told his brother much to begin with. I’m honestly surprised he told him even that much.
“Please!” he begs as I take a step closer. “I’ve told you everything I know!”
“I’m sure you have. Thank you for that. Oh, and happy holidays,” I say before I pull my hand back and swing true.
The cleaver is surprisingly sharp and almost cuts through the neck with one swipe. It’s still kinda holding on by some muscle and skin, but a few more hacks and his head also hits the ground with a thud before rolling towards his brother’s.
“Aw, that’s kinda cute. Even in death, they’ve got each other’s back. You think that will be us, Dom?”
He scoffs, continuing to type on his phone. “You planning to get decapitated by a psycho with a cleaver while you’re bound to a chair by Christmas decorations?”
I shrug. “There are certainly less interesting ways to die.”
“Can we focus here?” Griggs asks with a huff. “We really don’t have anything new to go off. We have the first name of one of the accomplices. So what?”
“So nothing,” Dominic says.
Griggs frowns as Dominic pockets his phone. “What? We drove our asses out here to kill a man for nothing but secondary revenge?”
Dominic nods. “That and Zayden needed to have a little fun.”
I nod in agreement, smiling at Griggs as he looks at me like I’m deranged. Rude but fair.
“So what’s the plan now? Are we just sitting around with our thumbs in our asses or…?” Griggs snarks.
“Goddamn, Griggs. You need to lighten up, get in the spirit of things. I swear to God, you act like you don’t even enjoy the kill.”
“I don’t,” he says flatly. “It’s a job. A means to an end.”
I smirk at that, shaking my head as I tsk. “You can lie to a lot of people, but not to us. I see through your bullshit surly facade. You’re as warped as I am.”
“Well,” Dominic hedges.
I look over my shoulder at him. “Fair enough. Almost. You crave the kill whether you like to admit it or not. Once you take as many lives as we have, it changes a person. You couldn’t just wake up and not do it anymore, trust me—you’d earn yourself a one-way ticket to the looney bin. You need it just like I do.”
Griggs frowns at my words, like he doesn’t want to admit the truth in them.
Why? I wonder. Does he think he can’t have a happy life and be a mercenary?
I’m living proof that you can. I have a beautiful wife, the best brother anyone could ask for and two beautiful twins.
My life is perfect. Maybe he just needs to stop fighting the darkness and succumb. I bet he’d smile a hell of a lot more.