Chapter 2 Dax
There are things that move through the world, hyper intelligent predators that spend their time searching. Looking for somewhere to hide. Hoping to find somewhere they can trap their prey. Or they are stalking their next victim. Preparing for their next kill. No one wanted to believe that evil had a human face. That face would be one of calm and compassion. The kind that built trust by sharing looks and smiles. Simple touches that wormed their way into your brain, leaving happy feelings behind. That was the way that people like me worked, we knew all the buttons to press to make you do what we wanted. The subtle ways to stroke your ego that left you off-guard. We worked our way into your life building trust along the way. And then used that trust to utterly destroy you. We aren’t the ones that make you cross the street to get away from us. Not the ones that make you clutch your purse as you walk by us. There is nothing threatening about people like me, nothing that screams danger. But the wild, feral part of your brain tells you to run. So, you speed up, pull your phone out. Do everything you can to let us know that you have seen us. All in the guise of self-protection. You know that we are stalking you. But no one would believe you, they would call you a liar. That was the shit we loved as twisted as it was.
I was not the kind of person you wanted to take an interest in you.
There were two sides to my psychosis. One side that was meticulous when I killed. Knowing everything I can about my targets. Trying not to get caught. The other was rabid, all hindbrain and no actual logic. That side didn’t care about getting caught. Like that all I cared about was the slaughter. I didn’t feel much, but there was this hate that I could control most of the time, hate for everyone and everything. But when I couldn’t, I was the Butcher. The Blue Ridge Butcher. That was by far the favorite of the names I had been given by the press over the decades. Today was one of the good days.
I was an alpha, but there was something wrong with my nose. Something off in my brain that labeled people as the enemy. That was the only explanation that every doctor I had been to give me. They all referred me to a psychologist. Like I would ever set foot in one of those offices ever again. Nearly three decades earlier, fifteen-year-old me had been taken to one. I really had no choice in the matter. Forced to sit in a bland office, in an uncomfortable chair. Across from an omega that made me want to tear her throat out. She had been incessantly pushing at things that were none of her business. Talking my ear off on the guise of building trust. I wasn’t interested in any of it. There was no need for me to be open with her. I had just needed her to believe I had been and to tell my parents that I was fine now.
The day she had pushed me too far was the last day I saw her. There had been a tone to her voice as she spoke, it came off as condescending. Like she was better than me, there to condemn me. All because my parents had mandated that I attend sessions. I couldn’t take that tone anymore, so I did something about it. The feeling of her going limp in my sixteen-year-old hands was one I would never forget. She had been lucky to survive, I was lucky she didn’t press charges. Simply called my parents. After that I never went back to her.
I closed myself off in response, making everyone think that had been the worst of my teenage years. I started to watch those around me. Learn from them really. Teaching myself how to act like I was a normal person. Pretending that I felt sorry for strangling my omega mother. Acting like I cared that I had hurt her. The false promises of never doing it again. How I understood it was bad, evil even, for an alpha to attack an omega. I spent the majority of my sixteenth year locked away in my room, grounded. My parents thought it was a suitable punishment. Grounded and forced to read classics. That and romance novels, thanks to my mother’s idea that I might learn from it. She thought it would cement the idea of how omegas should be treated. It certainly did that. Unfortunately, not in the way she anticipated.
Our staff asked why my father didn’t call the police after that attack. They couldn’t call, couldn’t let our family be seen as mentally ill in any way. People would start to question my father—the pack member that was a senator. Instability would ruin him. That made me laugh. If only he knew how badly I was running his precious family name through the mud. Killing my parents pack while he was in Congress hadn’t been enough. Money had made that go away. That was how he had always handled my problems, throwing money at it until it went away. He wanted to be remembered as a political hero. I couldn’t wait to watch all of that go up in flames. What else would make his platform of enhancing omega protections crumble faster than his only child being a serial killer?
One that targeted omegas.
The movement in front of me caught my attention. An alpha left the house right on time. This particular omega had four alphas. She had gleaned my interest weeks earlier. Her scent was maddening in the worst way. All I could think of was eradicating the source of that stench. So, I followed it back to where it was coming from. The pack seemed so normal, one omega with her alphas all over her. I had walked a large, lazy circle around them, trying to figure out who it was that scent belonged to. One by one I was able to pick out and separate that one from the mix of them that lingered around the group. I had felt vindicated when I realized it came from the omega, starting to follow them immediately.
Following them home was easy. They didn’t even realize they were being watched. Not even raising a fuss when I tailed them into the gated neighborhood. I always allowed myself to be seen in the immediate area once, when I followed my victims home. I fit into these neighborhoods; it was the perfect hunting ground. They thought nothing of random cars coming in and out of the area. This was one of the richest areas in Asheville. They had enough money to have everything delivered. The owners never really seen. When they were it was as if they were coming or going. Driving slowly through the roads wasn’t strange. Delivery drivers came and went all day long. Following someone to their house was commonplace, as long as you kept driving past it. That was exactly what I did that morning, followed them until they pulled into the multimillion-dollar mansion on a hill that backed up to a national forest. I made note of that address and left.
In the middle of where the trees were thickest there was a clearing. Parking my car there, it was as simple as following the flow of the trees to their backyard. Set high up on the hill, I was able to monitor them and learn their schedules. And then I started to follow the alphas when they left the house. Work was the most important, giving me the most time. Months ago, I had followed each alpha around for days on end. The first two—the eldest of her men—were twins. They worked together at the Ashville Tourist Board. Their schedules were fixed, five days a week, nine to five. The third worked on the other side of the mountain. It was a forty-five-minute drive on a good day. This last one worked as a supercenter manager. Her beta worked as a paralegal at a law firm. I also knew that each of them spent an hour in the gym after work every night.
There were extra hours that got added to that open time when the men would go out for boys’ night. When I was sure that she would be alone, I started to watch the omega. A pair of binoculars had been my best friend for the last two weeks. I was equally as thankful that she kept to a regular schedule. She had her morning coffee by the pool, followed by yoga when she was feeling restless. At times she would disappear into the house for hours. I eventually became overly curious about that but found that she was napping of all things. I discovered that when I had slipped into the house one day. Finding the sliding glass door open was a welcome surprise. I watched when she would leave the house every Tuesday to go grocery shopping. Everyone but her left before nine in the morning and returned after five but before six. I knew that her closest mate worked a half an hour drive from the house they shared, and that the closest police station had a twenty-minute average response time. So, I had decided, today was the day she died. I had gloves, and my knife was covered in scent-cancelling cologne. Nothing would give me away. Just the way I liked it.
Couldn’t do to get caught until I was sure my father would never dig himself out of this hole.
I had been here for hours already. My morning started an hour before her first two alphas left the house. I needed to time everything just right. There was no room for mistakes. Especially when a mistake is the difference between freedom and execution. If the timing was off, it wouldn’t happen. I counted down from ten under my breath. As I hit one, her first and second alphas left together. Reaching down, I set a timer on my watch for ninety minutes. I wasn’t worried about it making noise, I had long ago removed the tiny speaker. Waiting was all I could do as I pondered what came next.
I was working in groups of three. It took time to do what I did. Not all of it. What I planned on doing to this omega wouldn’t take any time at all. But when the Butcher killed, that took time. Time and finesse. It took a lot of work to make a controlled killer look uncontrolled. To make something cold and calculated look full of rage. The difficulty increased when you were trying to make an uncontrolled murder look staged that way. There were a lot of moving parts, it was basically all I thought about. The only thing that kept the demons at bay. I don’t mean literal demons, but the memories that caused so much pain. Those it kept behind a wall of steel.
None of it was enough. I had discovered that last election when my father won. The murder rate rising did nothing.
I had one more crime scene to create. That would take place at home. In Raleigh. My fourth in a series of pack annihilations. Those were as random as they seemed. I never hunted my true victims at home. The ones that were most personal to me. Ones like this omega. I never did learn her name. Not that I would remember it if I had. What I would remember is the vile scent she would create. That burning plastic smell seared into my memory. My watch vibrated as the third of her men left for the day.
Counting down from fifteen, I smiled when the door opened. It was her last alpha getting the newspaper. Why he still read a newspaper, I didn’t know. But every day, without fail, he would smoke a cigarette, drink his coffee, and read the front page. I always got a perverse thrill out of watching him react to articles about me. He made the most amusing faces; most would call them disgust. The idea of his omega making the front page the next day made me grin like an idiot. Fifteen minutes later, he slid inside and left for the day, taking the beta with him. I had half an hour for him to get to work. I would double that just to be safe.
My need to kill wasn’t sexual. Some law enforcement officer might argue with that statement—but it wasn’t. I was capable of having sex with someone, never really needed anything special to make my cock work. Well, for the most part. I would have had to been able to stand an omega’s scent for that to be a real factor. Thus far, I haven’t been able to. Yet I still hadn’t mastered faking it. Not faking sex, I was good at that, but the failure of my knot to cooperate was a separate issue. Every relationship I tried for failed when it came to sex. Eventually, they would realize how bored I was.
Betas, all of them. Their scents weren’t as offensive.
Those urges existed in me; I knew that much. It wasn’t a kink I was missing—it was the right person. That one elusive scent that I could stand to be around. The scent that made me act like an alpha—respond like one. Protect like I should be, rather than destroy as I loved to do so much. I just prayed that it wasn’t an omega. Eradication was my true love if I was being honest. Not the act; not any part of killing, but the destruction and grief that was left behind. The complete eradication of something coveted. That was what really did it for me. And I could keep killing as long as I wanted to, the cops would never catch me. I used my nose to select my victims. That was the one piece of the puzzle they would never put in place. Never understand what could go so completely wrong in an alpha’s head that scent could trigger this. Not just any scent, one that was particularly offensive would cross my path. Always a smell that made me want to gag. The first had been spoiled milk. This last one was burning plastic. Without fail, when I would track that scent back to its source, it always came from an omega.
The timer on my watch went off, and I moved. The run to the back fence took less time than I expected. Jumping the fence, I landed a little heavy, but quietly on my feet. I froze in place for a moment, listening for movement from the house. My grin spread wide when I heard nothing. There were no cameras in or around the house, nothing to catch me as I slid open the glass door on its track. I froze again, holding my breath and listening. I left the door open behind me for a quick escape later.
Moving from memory, I knew the nest was on this level—first door on the right. That was unusual, normally it would be the most protected room, but that was where she would be. She wasn’t yet out of bed and wouldn’t be for another hour or so. Slowly, I opened the door and was assaulted by the scent of her. My nose scrunched in disgust; it was thick in this room—too thick—making me sick to my stomach. My hand itched as I slid into the bed beside her. It dipped with my weight, and I smiled when she pushed back against me. She was making this too easy.
My hand came down, wrapping around the hunting knife at my side. Wrapping those fingers around the handle, my arm moved as I brought it up to her throat. “What did you forget?”
“Nothing.” I didn’t take any time to enjoy her panic, as I slid the blade across that vulnerable column of muscle. I moved off the bed just enough, so she rolled onto her back. Thankfully, I had moved fast enough that I didn’t get soaked in the blood that poured from her throat. It was a simple kill, severing both the arteries and veins in her neck.
She twitched there on the bed as crimson spread around her. The panic in her eyes made everything worth it. Her hands were up, pressing against that wound. She was still able to breathe, and it came in rapid gasps. Each one shallower than the one before. Blood flowed between her fingers, down her chest to pool on the bed beneath her. It took only minutes for her to stop moving. When I was sure that she had lost too much blood to survive, I moved. Her phone started ringing as I reached for the comforter. Grabbing one side, I tugged until her body rolled her off the bed. There was a satisfying thud when she hit the ground. The blood on the blade caught the dim light as I cleaned it on the comforter before sliding it back into the sheath.
Setting the comforter down, I knew I needed to move. Fifteen minutes was all I had to get over the back fence. Heading to the garage, I grabbed a large garbage bag and returned to the nest. Stuffing the comforter in the bag, I sent one last look back at the omega not moving on the floor before heading out. I was out the back door and over the fence before she was cold. Not that she ever would get cold. Her alphas had likely felt her die. I couldn’t wait to watch them grieve on national television. Maybe I would even be the one to interview them. That was my job after all. The irony of a serial killer being a crime reporter was not lost on me. It wouldn’t be the first time I had reported on my own crimes. I fought not to laugh as I jumped that back fence. There was no stopping me at this point. I might get caught, but there were omegas in prison.
Sliding into the woods behind the house, I waited. Checking the timer on my watch reassured me, I had made it out of there in five minutes. That was the perfect amount of time. I did love to watch the police pull up. Once they discovered her body, I would leave. That would give me plenty of time to get home, commit the family annihilation there, and make it to work in the morning. Maybe I was stretching myself too thin, but what did I care if I got caught?
The screech of a siren speeding into the neighborhood caught my attention right as the timer went off. Damn, I was good. The twisting road that led up the mountain to the house would buy me exactly seven minutes. A timer ticked in my head, there wasn’t much left to do other than escape. Not that it would be hard. The half-mile trek back to the clearing wouldn’t take long.
I smiled watching the cops move to the front door. They wouldn’t find it easy to open. Part of what they called my signature, the single strike to the throat opening it up, my victims bleeding to death, and setting up a minor trap at the front door as I always used back entrances. At one point I considered taking the door off the track completely, but that would have been too obvious. Killing at night would have been simpler and more challenging at the same time. I would rather not have to fight a house full of alphas. Well, not in Asheville, and not armed with a knife alone. No, I liked to hit during the day. No overkill. I knew that the police suspected we had four serial killers operating in North Carolina and I couldn’t help but laugh at the assumption.
They weren’t exactly wrong. It was just one killer with three different styles. The omega killings were cold, calculated. When the Butcher killed, it was messy. I would stalk them to private campsites. Always couples with a male beta. The look of panic on the beta’s face when I shot their partner always made me feel warm and fuzzy. He would suffer a much worse fate. I tended to go a little crazy with beta men. It came from the same part of my brain that hated omegas.
Betas suffered more than the omegas did. Omegas I almost pitied. They didn’t choose to be who they were any more than I had. But betas… they had everything they could ever want, and I hated that. The men especially. They activated my need to eradicate everything they were. My blade stayed sheathed when that happened; I liked to use my fists. Of course, I couldn’t say for sure what all happened. I was in control until a point. When the rage got really bad, I’d black-out, coming to when I was driving away, covered in blood. I never knew what happened to the victims.
When the cops slipped in the back door I turned. I could hear someone moving up the trail as I picked my way through the vegetation. Slowing until I was able to see the trail, I watched as they moved in front of me. Counting to one hundred the couple turned a corner where they couldn’t see me, and I moved out of the bush. The trail wound around until it met up with the clearing. I took a shortcut. Cutting through the woods until I came upon it. Disposing of the evidence was easy, getting out of the woods, less so. I took a winding path into the heart of the forest, picking my way through on back roads so I knew I wasn’t followed. Slowly, I made it back to civilization.