Chapter 2
Chapter Two
NOAH
I drag the blade across the man's neck, his hot blood pouring over my fingers, his breath raspy and fading as he starts to gurgle.
His fingers claw at my arm. Thankfully, they're not bloody. I don't have time to go back to the hotel and get cleaned up. There are other things on my schedule.
The man keeps tearing at me, but his grip gets weaker, the light draining from his eyes. A sick sort of pleasure runs through me as I drop him to the ground, his body crumpling behind a dumpster.
What a fitting place to leave scum like him.
This isn't how I wanted this to go, but he really didn't leave me any other choice.
As I wipe the knife on the man's shirt, the fresh blood mingling with the coagulated blood, an impatient sigh sounds from outside the alley.
My spine stiffens as I roll my eyes, wishing for the thousandth time that I'd come alone to handle this problem.
Although, if my people were doing their jobs properly, I wouldn't have to be here right now killing a low-level drug dealer. I have bigger issues at hand.
Like how to slaughter the entire Lynde family.
Or how to finally take over New York and avenge my father.
Because this wasn't supposed to be my life. At least not yet, and never like this.
And yet, here I am.
I always knew this would be my destiny; I never had any delusions of happy ever afters and shit like that.
But I thought I would at least enjoy some of my life before I eventually took over.
Now, my family is slipping through my fingers, my legacy is being threatened, and it is all because of those fuckers.
I mean, nothing is lining up these days, but at least killing the bastard in the alley takes a little of the edge off my mood.
I fold the knife and slip it back into my pocket before stepping out of the alley.
Robert looks past me to the body slumped just behind the dumpster, his foot still sticking out. My half-brother gives me a stern look, shaking his head like he's the older brother and the one in charge.
I'm getting really tired of his shit, but he's useful. For now.
The day he's not is the day I'm going to kill him.
I'm sure of it. I don't know what he's doing behind my back exactly, but these last couple of months, things have been rocky between the two of us.
He's been sharp and short-tempered, which isn't anything new, but there are more triggers to his temper.
Rumors are flowing that he's at the head of another shitstorm coming down the line.
I wouldn't be surprised if he is. He's always been a power-hungry little shit. He'll do whatever it takes to secure his position with the family, and while that's been a good thing until this point, he's foaming at the mouth to get more power.
I'll kill him before he ever gets the chance.
Robert glances at the body again, looking down his nose at me like our uncle used to when he was teaching us how to be the monsters we are.
"What?" I shove his shoulder and urge him away from the alley before anyone has the chance to come looking and see what I've done.
"Nothing."
"You're worse than a fucking woman who tells you that everything's fine when nothing is fine and then wants you to guess at what could possibly be wrong."
"Fine. That was a sloppy kill." Robert keeps his tone low as we walk away from the alley, blending in with the rest of the bodies surrounding us.
"You need to be more careful. You're going to get caught one of these days, and there's not a lot you can do about the Lynde family when you're behind bars. "
"You'd like that, though."
He shoots me a flat look. "You and I both know the problems you're having right now have nothing to do with me. People are starting to lose faith in you, and with the attacks the Lyndes keep launching, the people who are undoubtedly loyal keep dying."
I stop in the middle of the street and turn to him, my hands in my pockets, my fingers slipping over the handle of the knife.
It'd be easy to pull it out, plunge it into his throat, and disappear into the crowd before anyone saw what happened.
Patience is a virtue.
Right now, being patient is beginning to feel a whole hell of a lot like another problem on my long list of problems.
Robert turns and keeps walking. "We have to go back to New York soon. I don't know why you're bothering to waste your time coming down here anyway. He was just a dealer."
"A dealer who stole from me and ran. If I allowed him to get away with that, then there would be others who would try the same thing." I study Robert as he walks a couple of paces ahead, wondering how we could've been raised by the same person and yet he doesn't see things the same way.
"It's just drugs." Robert looks over his shoulder at me, rolling his eyes and stopping while he waits for me to catch up to him.
"You think it's just drugs, but this is about more. This is about what's to be won, and the fact that you can't see that is more than a little troubling."
"I can see a lot of things, but what I don't understand is why this particular dealer is one you had to deal with instead of just sending one of the enforcers to hunt him down."
"It's not your concern why I choose to do the things I do." I catch sight of a familiar brunette in the crowd, her hair the color of a sparrow's wing and tied into a ponytail that would look great wrapped around my fist. "Get lost. I have other business to take care of while we're here."
Robert shoots me a questioning look before pulling out his phone. "I have a meeting with a contact for heroin in an hour. You're going to be there, aren't you?"
"Nope." I take off, heading down the street, pretending I'm not following her while Robert is still watching.
As I round a corner at the end of the block, going left when she went right, I look over my shoulder, checking for Robert.
He's long gone, but I don't trust him not to be following me. It wouldn't be the first time he's done so in the last month if he is.
The sun is beating down from above as I take a couple more turns, walking around for the better part of an hour before checking the tracking app I have on my phone.
Injecting her with the tracker was no easy feat.
I had to do it while she was out partying with some of her friends, cross-faded enough that she wouldn't recognize me.
After that, getting her to come with me to another room, slipping the needle into her neck, implanting the small chip may as well have been child's play.
And now, I know her every move.
She's heading for the beach.
I turn down another street, following after her.
She's too far ahead for me to see, but not for long.
When I get close to her location, I start scanning the area, keeping my head down and the brim of my baseball cap pulled low. If she recognizes me now, the game is going to be over before it starts.
Taking a page out of Ezra's book might just be working in my favor, even if he is a fucking traitor.
There she at the edge of the water in a tiny black bikini, the water rushing over her feet, splashing against her shins.
I weave through some of the gyrating bodies, the bass pounding. Cheers go up as beers and blunts are passed around.
It's been nearly twenty-two years since I last bothered spending any time around students on vacation. Forty-four is a little old to be trying to blend in with them, especially at eight in the morning when they're all sober enough to remember seeing me.
But she's worth the risk.
At least, she will be if my plan pays off the way I want it to.
She wraps her arms around herself like she's trying to hold it together, and then she turns and joins the rest of the party with a bright smile. She's so good at pretending she's fine when she's not. I've seen it in the last couple of weeks I've been following her.
Nobody around her can see that she's dying inside, and that's going to be the key to my plan: showing her the things about herself that none of the others understand, making her reliant on me, and then turning her against them in the end.
She's going to want me more than she's ever wanted anyone else. I'm going to make sure of it.
I head to the bar and order a drink, bobbing my head to the music while the throng of people around me starts to dance with each other.
She smiles at her friend as she comes to join the dancing.
She and the friend get close to each other, their bodies moving, drinks flowing. Then the shots start flowing.
I find a spot near the bar, getting comfortable, even with the sound of a shitty band performing cover songs blaring across the beach.
She looks like she's having a good time, and that's the part that matters as I move into the next part of my plan.
This needs to hurt her as much as possible.
It needs to shock her.
I need her not thinking straight, because if she sees me for who I am before I'm ready, all this is over.
Robert's going to see that I'm still as in control of this family as I've always been.
And then whatever little stunt he's trying to pull on the side is going to dry up.
He might think I don't know the games he's playing, but you don't get to where I am in life without being able to see through another person's shit.
He's not my focus right now, though. She is.
Especially as she licks salt from another woman's neck before taking the shot from between the woman's tits. She smirks as she puts the shot glass to the side, biting a lime from another woman's lips.
The crowd around her cheers, and she throws her arms up in the air, celebrating her wild side.
There's a part of me that wants to see what that wild side is really made of—to give her what she so desperately craves and allow her to run absolutely wild.
Maybe one day I can give her everything she's hoping for. Though, that's going to have to be just before I kill her. Leaving her alive would be too risky.
I grab a napkin and a pen, scrawling a message on it before handing it back to the bartender. "I'll give you a thousand-dollar tip if you make sure this gets to the woman taking that body shot right now."
The bartender arches his eyebrow as I pull out the money. "All that for some note to be sent to a woman?"
"Give it to her first, then you get the money." I peel off a couple of hundred from the top and pass it to him. "To make sure the job gets done."
He nods and takes the money, stuffing it into the back pocket of his shorts before rounding the bar.
I pull the brim of my hat a little lower, hiding my face as much as possible. I want to see her reaction before she sees me.
The bartender serves a couple more people, waiting for his replacement to show up before he slips out from behind the bar. He crosses the sand over to her.
She's still taking body shots as if she doesn't have a care in the world, her steps wobbling more as she stands up straight, gets a little closer to him when he calls for her attention, and takes the note.
This is going to be perfect.
And by perfect, I mean that this is the start of dozens of lives going up in flames.
At least it was supposed to be, until a man approaches her, pulling her away before the bartender has the chance to deliver the note.
I don't know who the hell he is, since his back is to me.
But I'm not leaving until she reads the note.
I want to see her face when she realizes she's fucked.