Chapter 3 Take the Key, Take Her Life
The Kong Siheyuan in Ashbourne Heights, Chicago
Evil loves beauty.
The thought crosses my mind as I step through the security gate at the siheyuan, the Kongs’ lavish square fortress. Like the other mansions in the glittering neighborhood of Ashbourne Heights, it has a front-row seat to Lake Michigan.
What a pity this place houses the scum of the earth.
“Si Shen.” The main guard salutes, and I nod.
God of death.
Everything I touch dies. That makes me useful.
The guard bows as I turn left.
Men to the left, women to the right. There are rules for everything.
The Kongs follow old-world Chinese traditions the way they collect leverage—meticulously.
Only Sir Tao ever let us off the hook. When I was a kid, my father’s best friend would slip us lychees before dinner, open side doors so I could escape after breaking one of Cornelius’s precious teacups.
Celia and I grew up in this gilded prison with memories of gardening with Mom and taking care of her koi pond. Little Celia would cry when a fish died, not understanding why they wouldn’t stop eating if they were full. I’d tempt her with toys and trinkets to get her to smile again.
I learned a lesson then: some things don’t stop consuming until they’re dead.
Greed. Gluttony. Power. It’s never enough.
Incense clings to the air. More guards bow as I step into the main building.
My hand grazes the gun holstered on my hip. The higher you climb, the more people want you to plummet to your death.
Moments later, I stand in front of the north wing conference room where Cornelius Kong awaits me.
I knock on the crimson-studded brass door.
“Come in.”
The regal Kong patriarch faces the window overlooking the central courtyard when I step inside.
Decked out in a designer suit, his graying hair carefully combed, he’s proof that looks can be deceiving. Cornelius Kong wears his billionaire philanthropist title like his clothes. Expensive but generic.
His other role? Head of the Chinese Triads in the country, power broker, and The Association’s primary organ trafficker. His rise after his father’s death was paved with blood and polished clean by charitable donations.
I pound my fist on my chest and bow.
“You used to have the best singing voice,” Cornelius says as he turns.
When I don’t answer him, he chuckles. “Still not speaking, huh?”
“Words are just noise,” I straighten and sign.
“Someday, you’ll tell me why you’ve stopped speaking.” He leads me to a leather sectional when an attendant enters and prepares afternoon tea for us. “But then, silence makes you more lethal. Our most dependable weapon. Good for business. That’s why we teach the men ASL. Sit down.”
Weapon. To the world, I’m only as good as my kills.
Nothing more.
My jaw clenches, and I tamp down my thoughts.
I’m here for details on my new mark—Aria.
“Something’s different about you today, Ren,” Cornelius murmurs, seemingly amused.
“You worry too much.”
“Maybe.” His gaze doesn’t leave my face. “Maybe not. Info’s over there. Burn it after you memorize it.” He motions to a sheet of paper on his desk.
I snatch the document, knowing it’ll contain the usual details about my marks—routines, habits, things that’ll make it easy for me to do my job.
It won’t contain how this morning, when I stopped by the ER with chest pains I didn’t really have, she nearly spat out the cookie—looking like a squirrel preparing for winter—before marching over.
“Chest pains now? Not from hunting, right?” She smiles serenely after reviewing my chart.
But there’s a devious glint in her eyes, reminding me of the day she first spoke to me over a year ago.
“Did a bear swipe you across the chest?” Her eyes widen in mock concern.
My lips twitch against my will. I thought chest pain was a good excuse—heart transplantee and all.
“Your EKG looks normal.”
I type on my phone.
Ren
Will live to see another day.
Her gaze softens.
“Yesterday, you said I looked tired. I can say the same about you, Ren. Are you okay? Do you need someone to talk to? Is that why you’re always here?” She chews on her lip and adds, “I’m here…if you want someone to listen.”
My chest did hurt then. I blamed it on the damn glitches of my borrowed heart.
“Simple enough, right?” Cornelius asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.
The paper crinkles under my grip.
I should accept the mission and leave. No questions as always. I have the faded lash marks on my back to prove I learned that lesson as a kid.
Besides, they have Celia. And protecting my sister is my only priority.
But today, my body is a traitor, and I’m losing it.
“The mark? Why her?” I sign.
He arches his brow. “Why are you asking?”
“Just curious. She’s a nurse. Harmless.”
Isn’t it enough that her fiancé is dead? Guilt, that useless bastard, stirs.
“Your new heart causing you to grow a conscience?”
No, it’s making me inefficient.
Cornelius narrows his eyes, his warmth vanishing.
“Don’t grow soft on me, Ren. There are plenty of people who’ll take your place. Si Shen can’t have weaknesses.”
I gnash my teeth together. Celia. I have to remember everything I do impacts her.
Straightening, I sign, “Si Shen doesn’t have a soul. No conscience.”
“I will indulge you this once, since this mission deviates from our usual targets.” Cornelius sips his tea. “We need something from the nurse. An important key. Get it, then kill her.”
The room tilts. My heart kicks one ugly beat.
“Do you need someone to talk to?” Aria’s concerned voice rings in my head. “I’m here…if you need someone to listen.”
Disgust coils in my gut. I’m a weapon. I’m Celia’s older brother, the only person who can protect her.
Everything else is unacceptable.
Find the key. Eliminate Aria.
This changes nothing.
“What key?” I loosen my clenched fists.
“That’s the problem. We don’t know what it looks like or where it’s hidden. There’s a code. Ten to fourteen characters.” Cornelius clasps his hands together, his brows knit. “It’s important you retrieve this before others in The Association find it. Then, eliminate her. Are my instructions clear?”
Sweat gathers at my nape. I can’t ask more without raising suspicion.
“I’ll find the key for you.” I turn toward the door.
“And kill her, Ren. Bu liu huo kou.” Leave no mouths alive, or no loose strings. Our motto.
I pause at the threshold, an alarming urge to disobey cutting through my training like a blade between ribs.
Leather squeaks as Cornelius stands. Soon, I feel his presence behind me.
“I treat you and your sister like my own. You forget I can read your tells,” he murmurs into my ear. “We took your mother in after your father died. Raised you on the estate—a privilege many would die for. Kept you both safe.”
Stiffening, I school my features into coldness even as memories of finding Mom floating in the pond, lifeless, batter my mind.
Impassive brown eyes skate over my face before satisfaction lights them. “And we’re giving Celia the best care. Top doctors. Not wanting for anything. And her condition is stable, yes?”
If you can call slowly dying stable, then yes.
His voice stays soft, but the threat lands anyway.
If I disobey, Celia pays.
She’s the tiny shard of humanity I’m hanging onto. I will die before I let anything happen to her.
“Did you…find a match yet?”
“Patience, son,” Cornelius answers, triumph clear in his voice. “Finding the right heart takes time.”
My fingers twitch. As if I don’t know that. I’ve bribed surgeons, threatened brokers, gone through any pieces of the black market registry I could access from Chicago to Hong Kong.
Nothing. Not a single match for Celia.
I need time…and help outside of Cornelius. The damn bastard isn’t reliable. The Antihero Syndicate’s meeting is next week. I have to loop them in.
“Can you put the bounty on hold? I work best without distractions.”
“We didn’t raise you to be afraid of competition.”
“That’s not it. It’s inefficient. And Aria Connors is friends with Lana Kent. Brute force won’t work unless you want Elias to retaliate.”
Cornelius’s eyes narrow. The sly fox doesn’t want to anger the king of the underworld, who took out one of the six ruling families in The Association last year.
“You’re right.” He walks to the window and looks outside. “This job requires more finesse. Fine. I’ll put the bounty on hold until the Benefaction Ball in two months. I prefer to keep this in house. Quiet. But I expect the other families to sniff around, so you better hurry and get it done.”
He turns around and levels me with one of his chilling stares. “Don’t disappoint me, Ren. If you do this right, I can direct more resources to find a heart for Celia.”
I release a controlled exhale, a strange relief loosening my muscles even though Cornelius, the selfish bastard, isn’t being merciful. He’s just looking out for himself.
“I’ll complete the task. Retrieve the key.” My jaw tightens. “And eliminate the nurse.”
I bow and exit the room, Cornelius’s heated stare branding my back.
Pain twists behind my sternum, but I force my strides to even as I head toward the Soul Court where Celia is.
Anything for my sister. Killing is what I do.
Conscience is a luxury I can’t afford.
A brisk wind ruffles the elm trees when I cut through the central courtyard toward the southeast corner where the Soul Court sits. The place is guarded for Celia’s protection. Cornelius said he didn’t want the lower-level soldiers to mess with her.
But it’s just a way to keep us under his thumb, the bastard.
The breeze carries the scent of damp earth and ripples the water in the large reflecting pool.
More images of Aria flit across my vision. Her amusement at my hunting excuse. Her softness this morning. The sharp hitch of breath when I stepped behind her yesterday to type on the computer. The urge to break the grieving man’s hands for hurting her.
A glitch, that’s all this is.
It has nothing to do with the chunk of muscle from a dead man.
I stop myself from rubbing the scar on my chest.
My phone buzzes. A notification from TellNo1. I scan my perimeter—only the usual lower-level Triad soldiers milling about—then tap the app.