1. Aidan
Present
As I readjust my mask,I can’t help but notice the sweat beads forming on the bastard’s forehead bound to the chair in front of me. Good. He better be scared.
While I play with my gun, I catch a mischievous glint in Scott’s eyes beneath his mask. This fucker is as insane as me. I can’t remember a day where he hasn’t been in my life.
Scott and I have spent eight years in the military together, trying to escape my future in my father”s business and The Twelve. He would have followed me no matter what my choice would have been. The only joy I had was his sister. I fell hard for her. I thought he would have had my balls on a platter, but surprisingly, he was happy for us despite our age difference.
But everything changed eight years ago when we returned from our last mission. I’ll remember Blakely”s panicked call, followed by my da’s, until the day I die.
“Hey Ti?—”
“Are you with her?” Her voice is strained with anxiety.
“With whom?” I ask, feeling confused.
“Your sister.” Her breath is coming in short gasps as she struggles to keep up. “Aidan, she was supposed to meet me an hour ago, and she’s still not here. We planned this three days ago.”
“Have you tried to call her?” I don’t even know why I’m asking. Of course, she did. And it’s unusual for my sister to go this long without sharing any news. Two days is her max.
“Aye. Her phone is turned off. Ade, she’s never late, and she doesn’t forget. She always picks up when I call her. That’s our rule. Always answer to each other.”
“Okay, just breathe for me.” Scott is giving me a questioning look, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I hear her do as I say. “Good girl. Now, do you know where she was before she was supposed to meet you?”
“She was with her boyfriend.” I can sense the panic in her voice.
Fuck. I never liked the guy. He doesn’t seem right. I put my phone on speaker for Scott to hear.
“Okay. Do you know where?”
“No. We avoid talking about him. She knows I despise the guy, so we don’t bring him up to avoid conflict. Aidan, I don’t feel right about it. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.”
Scott mutters a string of curses beside me. If there’s one thing we know, it’s to always trust Blakely’s instincts. She’s never wrong.
“Okay. Where are you right now?” Her breathing is heavy and laboured through the phone line.
“I’m at the café where we were supposed to meet.”
“Alright. Call Bailey and go back to your place. You do not move from there or open the door, except if it’s me or your brother. Do you understand?” As I wait for her response, I can hear the sound of the café door opening and closing, the bell on the door ringing, indicating that she’s leaving. Scott is already holding his phone, ready to make a call. “Blakely.” My voice booms with force as I speak. “Do you understand what I said?”
“Aye. Aidan, please find her.”
“I’ll keep you updated. Once you arrive and lock yourself in, send me a text.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
As soon as I end the call, I turn to face Scott. “Aisla was supposed to meet Blake, but she never showed up. She was with her dickhead boyfriend before that,” I inform him, even though he heard half the conversation. “She’s panicking, she doesn’t trust the guy, and neither do I.”
“What do you think he would have done?”
“I don’t know, but we need to call my da’ to check if he has any news from her.” I reach for my phone to call him, but his name pops up on my screen before I can dial.
“Father.”
“You need to come home. Now.” The urgency in his tone is palpable.
“What is it?” I ask, feeling the sensation of nausea rising in me.
“We received some information.”
“Tell me it’s not Aisla,” I beg. No response. “Da’.” My voice echoes through the phone as I yell, “Tell me it’s not her!”
“Come. Fast. And bring Scott with you.” He abruptly disconnects the communication without giving any further details. I can feel Scott’s tension as he looks at me, mirroring my own nerves.
“Let’s go, brother,” he tells me. “Let’s see what it is.”
My intuition is telling me that something is not right.
Everything came crashing down from that moment on.
Trying to push down those memories, I focus on Alasdair in front of me.
“Do you know who I am?” I start.
I notice his eyes darting around frantically as he sees me approaching. With the white skull mask on my face, my appearance takes on a bone-chilling touch of horror. Similar to mine, Scott’s entire face is hidden behind a black bone mask. With eyes that resemble empty sockets, a nose like a skeletal cavity, and a mouth that stretches into a sinister grin, he looks like a character plucked from a horror movie.
The sight of the teeth arranged on the jaw makes it appear even more sinister.
“Y-you’re the Spectre,” he answers, his voice trembling. The nickname is pretty fitting, I have to say.
“Aww, you gave me a nickname.” I look at Scott. “How cute is that? Are you jealous?” I ask him, wiggling my eyebrow.
“Why don’t I have a nickname?” he asks, pouting like a kid and playing with his knife. “That’s not very nice. I’m hurt,” he adds, placing his hands on his heart.
“Y-you,” the fucker starts. “People call you the Slicer.”
Scott jumps with a victorious expression, his fist punching the air. “Yes. I have one. Better than yours.”
I can’t contain my amusement, leaving the guy looking unsure of what is happening.
We were aware of these nicknames. They’ve been following us for years now. They couldn’t have picked more perfect for us. Fuelling me is nothing but a thirst for vengeance. As for Scott, his love for slicing throats clings to him like a lost puppy seeking his owner.
“Anyway. I’m really honoured that you know us. Now, now. Do you know why we’re here?”
He looks at us, unsure of how to reply. The room is silent except for the sound of his laboured breathing as he struggles against the unyielding restraints on his wrists and ankles.
“B-because of the women?” I sit down before him, feeling the rough texture of the wooden chair beneath me. For tonight, we opted for his mansion. We couldn’t be bothered to take him to the Den.
I lean forward, studying him closely for a few moments. The fucker’s face is starting to show bruises around his eyes, and there are a few cuts on his face. Scott has been light with him.
It’s a common misconception that the wealthiest people are the most put-together when, in fact, they are often the most corrupted.
“That’s correct. Now, I need you to tell me who’s behind the trafficking.”
We rescued so many women in the past few years, but that doesn’t stop other organisations from blooming like wildflowers. I made a promise to myself eight years ago. I’ll do everything in my power to stop them.
That cost me my life. I lost them both that day. I lost myself. But there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to protect Blakely from the monster I was going to become.
“I-I don’t know,” he responds, his gaze flickering away from mine. Typical answer.
They always think they’ll get away until they come face to face with the consequences of their actions. It’s sad, really, when you think about it. They dedicate their lives to selling women, yet they have the audacity to believe they have any value. Not on my watch.
“Very well.” Looking at Scott, I give him a quick nod. He approaches us, and I can feel the excitement emanating from him, even through his mask.
“Are you sure you don’t want to speak? Because it”s been a while since I had fun,” Scott asks. The guy remains silent. Oh, it’s gonna be fun.
Scott takes his knife, moving it in front of him. His eyes go wild. “Which fingers should I start with?” he asks us.
“Hmm,” I say pensively. “Any of them would do. Really.”
Scott starts to put pressure on Alasdair”s middle finger, which makes him howl in pain. “You sure you want to stay silent?” Still no answer.
Scott pushes hard, and his knife slices through the skin like butter. The sound of his bones cracking is like thunder in the small room, his screams of agony filling the air until he blacks out. Scott grunts, causing me to turn my head towards him.
“What is it?”
“I just can’t with fingers. They’re really disgusting.”
I shake my head with a smirk. Seriously, this guy has killed more people than I can count, and he’s disgusted by that?
“Why didn’t you pick something else, like his ears or his eyes?” He shrugs. “You’re 36, for fuck’s sake.”
“Hey, don’t judge me. We all have our icks. Yours is so wei—” he trails off as a faint sound interrupts our conversation, causing us to look in the direction of the noise.
“Welcome back. Ready to give us some answers? Because the Slicer,” I say, emphasising the nickname, which makes Scott’s eyes light up with a smile, “plans to go for your ears next.”
Nothing. I guess we lost our touch. I come closer to him, ignoring the excitement in Scott’s eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to speak?” I ask, retrieving my knife. “No? Very well. Slice? Care to remove his trousers?”
“Why me?” He pouts.
“I can do it, but you’ll have to do the rest,” I say, and the look he gives me tells me everything I need to know. He won’t touch someone else’s dick. “That”s what I thought.”
I can feel the panic in the guy’s gaze as Scott makes him stand and starts to unzip his trousers.
“W-what are you doing?” Blood from his missing finger covers him. But not enough to atone for all the heinous acts he’s committed.
I completely ignore him, not even glancing in his direction, until he settles back into the chair. Leaning closer, my voice drops to a low and menacing tone. His eyes remain fixated on my tattooed hands, my fingers idly toying with the knife.
“What am I going to do? It’s something that should have been done a long time ago.” Grabbing his dick brutally in my hand, he quickly realises what my knife is doing so close to him.
But I’m too far gone to stop now. Cries fill the room when I insert my knife deep into his balls, incising every inch of him. His words are incoherent, but I won’t stop until his cock falls on the floor. Continuing along that track, I harden my grip, moving the knife all the way around until it’s positioned at the top of his dick.
“Wait. Wait. I’ll tell you. I-it was Captain Hall,” he blurts out, making Scott and I pause abruptly, our attention fully captured.
Cap Hall. Motherfucker. I knew this guy wasn’t clean. You’d think politicians and police would be the ones you’d go to if you had a problem. It turns out that they’re the sick ones in their little game. Although we’ve been working with some of them for years with the same goal, others see women as objects and money-makers. That makes me sick.
“Something else to add?” I ask. Tears stream down his face. He’s not going to give more information. He knows he’s going to die anyway. “Very well. I’ll make sure the Cap receives some part of you.” The grip on my knife is strong when I try to slice his dick. It takes me three tries before I have it right where I want it: on the floor. The sound of his screams fills the air, resembling the desperate cries of a trapped animal. Good. I don’t think he was bothered when the women begged him before he shoved his disgusting cock inside of them. He’ll never do that again.
After he passes out, Scott looks at me. “That was… a masterpiece.”
“I wonder if you’re not even crazier than I am,” I muse, cleaning the blood off the knife with my shirt.
“Maybe,” he says, his shoulders rising and falling in sync with his words. “But I didn’t finish playing with him.”
“I don’t think he’s dead, so you can still play with your toy if you feel like it. Shall we send a wee present to our dear friend Cap Hall? I think he might like it before his turn comes,” I ask, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.
Once more, our heads turn as groans echo in the air, blood spilling from his lower half. He is a sight to see, with missing fingers and no cock to put anywhere. I’m surprised he’s still alive. With each passing second, his cries intensify, reaching new volume levels. I’m sick of this shit. There won’t be any extra information coming from him.
“He’s for you,” I tell Scott, who’s more than happy to end him. I turn towards the guy. “Thank you for this information. But I’m afraid you’re no longer needed.”
Leaning in the back, I observe Scott approaching him like a predator, his knife swiftly transitioning between his hands.
“You can say ‘hi’ to Satan for us,” Scott says before slicing his throat in one perfect swift motion.
I watch as blood drips from his throat as he tries to speak, his words muffled by it. He won’t die right away. That’s the beauty of being sliced. Maybe he’ll think of the consequences of his actions before Hell takes him.
“Well, that was quick,” says Scott. “I don’t think we ever had a fucker giving us answers that fast,” he adds, cleaning his knife on his trousers.
“Yeah, I think he understood he wouldn’t get away with The Spectre and The Slicer.” That makes him chuckle.
“Seriously, that’s sick. I love my nickname.”
“Because you’re a psycho. I don’t understand how you can be sweet with your sisters. That doesn’t match your psycho mentality,” I say with a wink.
This guy would do anything for the twins. Bailey has always been the sweet one, while Blakely was the feisty, shy, curvy one. Thinking about her makes my heart sink.
She was mine, and I lost her. I’ll do it a thousand times if it means keeping her safe and away from these predators.
“You okay, man? I lost you for a minute.”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and answer, “All good. I zoned out. Shall we go? I’ll call Tim so he can send the cleaning team.” He nods at me.
“Home or the Neox?” he asks.
I really don’t want to go to our main club right now, so there’s no surprise when I say, “I’ll head home, but you do you, boo.” I wink at him.
“Wanker.”
The urge to remove my mask and shower is overwhelming. My skin feels like it’s crawling with something. It has been a while since I allowed myself to think about Blakely, and fuck if that doesn’t hurt.
“Let’s go,” he says as his eyes linger on the dead body still attached to the lounge chair.
We make our way out of this shit hole, and I’m almost running towards my motorbike while he’s walking to his SUV.
“See you at home, fucker,” I say, with my helmet already on my head. He flicks me the finger before I drive off.
The old building before us looks like it could crumble at any second. The unmistakable stench of decay fills my nostrils as I watch the rats dart across the street. The moon’s glow is the only thing visible in the pitch-black darkness.
With a nod from my da’, I reach into my holster and pull out my gun. Tim and Scott stand on either side of me, their guns at the ready, as we cautiously move forward. As we enter, I’m hit by the sounds of cries. A sense of urgency grips me as we press on.
“This way,” my da’ says. The dark corridor stretches out before us as we walk, and we are suddenly halted by the sound of voices echoing through the stone walls.
“Shut up, bitch. Fuck, your arse is so tight.” Without even pausing to think, I let my anger take over and burst through the door.
Watching the scene unfold in front of me feels like a horror movie. I don’t think and storm into the room, grabbing the fucker by the throat while the guys do the same with the two others.
“You motherfucker.” I swing my fist and connect with his jaw, and the satisfaction of the hit is almost euphoric. “Take her out of here.” My shout pierces the silence as I look at the girl, tears streaming down her face. “Where’s my sister?”
He lets out a sinister laugh, blood dripping from his mouth. I punch him again.
“Where. Is. My. Sister?” I ask again, emphasising each word with a sharp punctuating pause.
“That bitch? Dead.” I stop to breathe. What did he just say? Just as I open my mouth to ask him more, my da’s urgent tone catches my attention.
“Aidan. Here.” With a stern expression, I direct the guys to stay where they are. Rage fills my eyes. Entering the second room, my heart suddenly stops beating.
No, no, no.
I run to her and collapse onto the ground. I can’t help but stare in shock at her lifeless body lying before me.
“Aisla. Sis, wake up.” I shake her hard. “Sisi, open your eyes for me.”
“Aidan.”
“NO. Sissy, open your beautiful eyes for me. C’mon. I promise I’ll watch those stupid shows with you.”
She’s not moving. Why is she not moving?
“Aidan.” My da’s voice breaks as he calls out my name, tears streaming down his face. “She’s gone, son. Look at her arm.”
It takes a moment for me to realise she is covered in blood, her frail form marked with bruises and a needle piercing her skin. Her hand is half open, with something inside. Opening it, I notice that the key necklace Blakely and I gifted to her is tightly clenched in her fist as if she had been holding onto it until her final moments. The world falls away, and I am left with nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out Scott’s voice.
I burst out of the room, the weight of the gun in my hand. I act on pure instinct, firing at the two men in front of me, succumbing to my inner beast. I push my da’s guards out of the way and make my way towards her piece of shit of a boyfriend. With one hand gripping his throat, I hold my gun against his lips.
“Why?” He struggles to breathe as I press it deeper into his throat, rendering him unable to speak. “I asked you a question.” My voice sounds like that of a madman, unrecognisable to even myself. Retrieving my gun from his mouth, I hit him hard on his scalp.
He tumbles to the ground, but I continue with my strike. “Why?”
His gaze meets mine, blood smearing his face, his dick still out of his trousers. I wrinkle my nose in disgust as the unmistakable smell of urine fills the air.
This arse peed himself.
“She,” he starts, “She did it herself.”
“She did what herself?”
“She took the syringe and killed herself.” I’m so frenzied that my appearance must give away my madness. “Don’t kill me. I can tell you who wanted to buy her and who is behind it,” he says, his eyes darting around the room nervously.
I laugh like a lunatic. “Do you really think I’m going to spare your life?” I lean closer to him and whisper in his ear. “I’ll find them. And I’ll kill them one by one. But you. You don’t get to see another day in your life.” I pull the trigger, the sound of the gunshots echoing through the room, followed by the sickening thud of bullets hitting flesh. One in his chest, one in his stomach, one in his head. I feel a hand on my shoulder, begging me to stop.
“He’s dead. He’s dead, son. Stop.” My body feels disconnected from my mind. There’s a complete absence of feeling. I’m numb to the core. Lifting my head, I’m met with a mirror image of my own eyes staring back at me. My sister’s eyes. The ones I’ll never get to see ever again. Tears stream down his face, each droplet a testament to the pain he feels inside.
“I’m in.” My words blur out, leaving him with a confused expression.
“Aidan,” Scott murmurs.
“I’m in,” I repeat firmly. “You can join me or not. It’s your decision. But these men won’t see another day in their lives.”
He nods. “We’re with you, brother,” says Tim.
“My sister,” Scott comments.
“What about her?” my da’ asks. I glance at him, and he understands me without a word, giving me an apologetic look. “She can’t be a part of this, son. She can’t be mixed up with The Twelve business. If you’re sure about your choice. You know what you have to do.”
“I…” I can’t breathe. I can’t lose her. Taking a deep breath, I remember her face. Her big dark eyes, her curly hair that I love to play with. Her curvy body that fits mine perfectly. Her love for me. I fell hard and fast.
I can’t breathe. She’s my reason to be. White dots dance in front of my eyes, and my fingers are going numb.
“Breathe, brother. We got you,” Scott states, his hand on my shoulder.
I look deep into his eyes, and I see the pain he is feeling.
My father comes closer to me, his voice low as he speaks, “I’m sorry, son. I would do things differently if we had another choice.” I nod because there’s nothing more I can add. I hate him for making me choose. It’s my choice to join them, but he’s the one making me leave her. I could protect her. “Son, I know what you’re thinking. You can’t protect her if she stays here. I love her, but I’ve already lost one daughter today. I don’t want to lose another one.”
As I nod, I feel the sharp pain of my heart breaking into fragments.
She’ll never forgive me for this.
The sound of my gasping wakes me up, and I am immediately aware of the sweat soaking through my T-shirt and the queasiness in my stomach. Fucking hell. It’s been a while since I dreamed about that day. Eight years have passed, and it’s still fresh in my memory.
Squinting in the darkness, I check my nightstand alarm clock- 2 a.m. A groan escapes from my lips as I turn over to the other side of the bed. I won’t be able to go back to sleep. Glancing at my phone, I notice that Shaan has called twice. Weird. They’re from an hour ago. As one of my security guys, he only bothers to call when something goes wrong at the club.
Putting my pyjama bottoms on, I press his name on the phone.
“Shaan. What is it? It’s 2 a.m.” I press a hand on my face, feeling the weight of exhaustion from the day.
“Boss. We have a problem. You should come,” he says.
“What kind of problem?”
“I can’t say it over the phone, boss.” For fuck’s sake.
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”
Without bothering to wake Scott up, I quickly dress myself and grab the keys to my bike before leaving the house.
With each passing mile, the drive seems to get faster, the cold air rushing into my lungs, washing away the remnants of the night.
When I park my motorbike in front of the club, two of my guys are posted at the entrance, checking customer ID’s before letting them enter. I give both of them a quick nod before looking for Shaan. I don’t know what was so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
I spot him at the bar, deep in conversation with the bartender, patiently waiting for me.
“What is it?” I ask without a greeting.
“We found some stuff that should interest you,” he says, his silhouette disappearing as he walks towards the back room.
I enter, looking for anything that would justify my presence at this time of the night. That’s when I spot it. Weapons and drugs.
“What the fuc—” I start before chaos erupts in the club. Shouts and yells come from everywhere. As I open the door, the sound of urgent voices fills the air, and I find myself face-to-face with uniformed officers. A lot of uniforms. “What the hell is going on?” I direct my question to the police officer standing before me. I don’t recognise him.
“Lieutenant General Preston?” he asks.
It’s been a while since someone referred to me by my military rank.
“It’s me. Now, are you going to answer my question, or shall I guess?” My fists are clenched. I can spot the setup from miles away.
“We received an anonymous call. We need to check your club. Here. Everything is written on these papers.” He hands me a two-page long document that makes my blood boil. “If you don’t mind, we need to access the room behind you,” he says, pushing me to the side.
I pinch my nose in frustration. There’s no point for me to fight them. There are too many innocent people in this club. Don’t get me wrong, I could easily take out the police officers one by one. My club is filled with my guys, but it’s not worth people”s lives.
“I got something,” he says to his colleagues.
Of course, he has. The fucking question now is who the hell set me up and why? It’s not the first time people have tried to kill me or bring me down, but hiding drugs and weapons inside my club is a first.
I’m just glad Scott is not here.
“Care to explain, Lieutenant General Preston?” he questions.
“Nothing more than what you see. I’ve been called to let me know that my guys found these in the backroom and bathroom. I arrived five minutes before you.”
“Of course you did,” one of them replies condescendingly.
I’m gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw feels like it’s locked in place.
“It won’t take long for you to see that there’s no genetic material belonging to me on them.” They don’t believe me for a bit, and it’s fine. We’ll find soon enough who’s behind that.
“I’ll ask you to follow me. I’m giving you the chance to avoid being handcuffed, but don’t make me regret it,” he cautions. I nod because there’s nothing more I can do right now. I glance at Shaan, asking him silently to call my da’ and Scott.
This night is going to be a nightmare.