Chapter 12
“Good morning, Sir!”
I stop in my tracks at the sound of small voices calling out to me, then my hand goes up to silence Darwin’s rambling. The children of the flock always get my full attention, and this morning is no exception.
Stooping to one knee, I embrace all three, smiling as they squeeze me from each side. Kids’ hands and faces are almost always smudged with some sort of sticky, slimy filth. So, instead of keeping them at arm’s length, this is one of many reasons I always wear black.
“And where might you three be headed in such a rush?”
They release me to point in the direction of the door that leads to the playground, their eyes wide with excitement. “Mother said we’re allowed to play for five minutes before school starts.”
Standing, I ruffle one’s hair. “Then you’d better get to it, haven’t you? Time’s wasting.”
Their voices bounce at the pace of their rapid steps as they race toward the exit again. “Goodbye, sir!”
“Playing before school? I’m not sure that’s the best thing,” Darwin says, whispering as we continue our trek down the hallway. “It’ll get them wired before class, and the teacher will have a hell of a time getting them to settle down.”
I sigh and wonder if he emerged from the womb the surly old man he is today. “Relax, Darwin. They’re kids. It’s okay to indulge them every now and then. I’m sure their mother doesn’t do this often.”
Nodding, he retreats a bit. “Very well, Sir.”
He drops the subject there, and I steer us back on topic. “What’s next on the agenda?”
“Well, I was asked to give you this correspondence from Aria first thing this morning.”
Hearing her name, tension spreads through my shoulders. Darwin hands over the folded sheet of paper, and I break the black seal in the center, shaking my head. Everything she does is so fucking dramatic.
My eyes scan her words as we walk, then I toss it into the trash at the corner when we turn. Cole and Darwin’s gazes both stare at the bin as we pass by. They know better to ask what was written in the note, but they likely already have an idea.
With Aria, her agenda is always simple, always incredibly transparent. She’s requested that she be allowed to return to my bed. Apparently, the two-week ban is starting to wear her down, which is why she’s now resorted to desperation and pleading. It must be killing her, wondering night after night who I’ve chosen to warm my sheets in her absence. She doesn’t need to know that the answer to that question would be no one. Her only concern should be that after the stunts she’s pulled lately… it won’t be her.
As my advisors and I turn down yet another corridor, I recall that look I’ve seen in Aria’s eyes lately. She’s got this idea in her head that she’s somehow more important than any other member of this flock, that she’s somehow more important to me. Once, while we lay in my bed, naked and soaked in our own sweat, she reached for my hand, staring at our fingers interlocked in the flickering candlelight. She rambled some nonsense about how every king needs a queen, and how the faithful support of a woman can only strengthen his kingdom. The words went in one ear and out the other because, at the end of the day, she had her spiel all wrong from the beginning, because I could never be a king.
Kings are heroic and selfless, and I’m no one’s hero.
I’m a self-appointed reaper. A nightmare who’d sooner tear out someone’s fucking throat and watch them drown in their own blood than show them kindness.
“Anything else?”
Darwin clears his throat when I ask. I’m guessing my abrupt dismissal of Aria’s message catches him off guard.
“Um… right. I believe we’ve covered everything. How’s your sermon coming along?”
“It’s nearly done.”
Darwin either believes the lie or wisely chooses not to question me further, but in truth, I haven’t even thought of what I’ll say when I address the flock again. I suppose I’ve been a bit… preoccupied. Two weeks without a kill has me on edge, lacking the focus necessary to string together any sort of meaningful message. It seems now that the beast has been awakened, he’s not so easy to keep on his leash.
I’ve taken lives before. Several dozen, actually. The occasional nuisance tossed off the roof of a building, a throat cut here and there when I’m disrespected, so on and so forth. But only recently have I begun to sign my artwork, taking credit for my masterpieces. This new habit, the consistency… it’s spoiled me. No longer suppressing my nature, no longer satisfying my urges—however dark they may be—is the freedom I never knew I needed.
But despite my innate impatience, I’ve chosen to wait. And the experience has been oddly similar to edging—being on the brink of orgasm, only to pull back and deny myself the pleasure of releasing.
But it’s all for her.
All for Layla.
I’m determined to await her instructions on who my next target will be. Handpicking a mark of her choosing was… euphoric. As my knife sliced through the delicate flesh of that woman’s throat, I was surprised when my dick hardened, imagining the moment Layla would realize the lengths I’ll go to for her.
Only her.
A blood-curdling scream disrupts my thoughts, and my gaze shifts toward the noise when the sound of glass breaking follows. Darwin and Cole chase after me when I take off in the direction of the shriek, but they fail to keep pace. Which is why I’m first to burst through the double doors leading to the storage pantry, and the metal one that’s been left slightly ajar. Then, I’m first to lay eyes on the scene that’s just added a new task to the top of today’s agenda.
A small, wide-eyed woman stares back at me from where she’s been forcibly bent over a small cart in the back corner of the pantry. A bruise is already forming across her cheek where I’m guessing she’s been punched by the burly asshole with his hand up her dress, his fingers looped around the waistband of her underwear. I lock eyes with him, and it’s clear he knows this will only end badly for him.
He”s silent as he quickly backs away from the woman, stuffing his sad, stubby dick back inside his briefs, going limp out of embarrassment, of fear. The woman moves away as soon as she’s able, brushing tears from her face with the back of her hand. To my surprise, she doesn’t flee, but rather hides behind me for protection. The man’s eyes flit to her, and I don’t miss the anger and hatred within them. A clear sign of his lacking remorse.
“Are we… interrupting?”
There’s a surprising lack of rage in my tone despite how it bubbles within me, like a simmering lake of magma.
“Sir, I know what this looks like, but you must understand. She’s mine. Well, nearly,” he stammers. “We’re to take covenant and be handfasted in a few weeks. This is just a misunderstanding.”
That word draws a small laugh from me. “A misunderstanding.”
“Yes, Sir,” he asserts.
I step closer, not missing how his gaze lowers to my feet as the space between us disappears.
“Well, let me see if I can make heads or tails of things. From the sound of her screams, the bruise on her face, and that scared shitless look in your eyes, I’m willing to bet we got here just in time.”
“No, Sir. It’s not—”
“Shh, shh, shh…” My beckoning quiets him. There’s maybe a foot of space between us now, but it still feels like too much, so I don’t stop until the toes of my shoes touch his.
Then, I lift his chin, bringing his focus to mine as he trembles and sweats as I stare down at him.
“Apologize.”
His pulse races at the base of his neck, bringing awareness to the slow steady beat of my own heart.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean—”
“Not to me,” I cut in, briefly glancing over my shoulder to the woman he believes belongs to him.
His eyes shift to her, and his jaw flexes, as if the idea of apologizing to her causes him physical pain.
“I’m sorry,” he bites out, and I smile down on him, pleased with his obedience.
“There, now, was that so hard?”
He swallows deeply, and before he can utter a “No, Sir” or an even more fitting “I’m a fucking idiot, Sir,” my knife plunges into his gut. There’s this moment where the tip of the blade finally breaks past the skin’s fragile resistance, and pushes into the soft, vulnerable organs, and it’s just so… fucking… satisfying. Knowing that, in that moment, you’re that person’s god. No, not the giver of life.
But certainly the one who takes it.
A deep sigh leaves me as I savor that look in his eyes, how his hands tighten around my biceps, knowing there’s no use in fighting this. With a little more force, I rip the blade upward, through his navel, then higher, until I hit his sternum.
There’s a slow trickle at first, the sound of blood droplets spattering the floor, our shoes, and then it becomes a downpour mere seconds before he collapses at my feet.
I’m only vaguely aware of the complete silence in the room, because my focus is honed in on the puddle of worthlessness before me. I hadn’t paid attention before, but there’s a large clock on the wall, and its ticking seems to grow louder as blood rushes behind my ears.
It’s been far, far too long.
“Sir, I…”
I believe Darwin means to say more, but he seems to be in shock, never having seen this side of me. No doubt, he’s aware of who and what I am, but I imagine it’s something altogether different seeing me kill right before his eyes.
First wiping the blade clean on my slacks, I tuck it away, glancing toward the small, stainless steel sink mounted against the wall. They watch as I calmly roll my sleeves, then rinse the bastard’s blood from my hands. No sense in scaring the children as I make my way back to my room to clean myself properly.
“Th-thank you, Sir.”
I glance over my shoulder when the woman speaks, offering a nod in acknowledgement of her appreciation before addressing Darwin and Cole.
“Have someone clean this up, then see to it that she gets to her quarters safely.” I reach for a white towel slung over the edge of a nearby shelf to dry my hands.
“Of course, Sir.” Darwin’s response is shaky, proof that bearing witness to my swift display of justice has rattled him. “Should we clear your agenda for the day? Give you time to gather yourself?”
My head tilts, and I don’t think anyone knows what to think when a laugh slips out.
How adorable. They think this was hard for me.
“That won’t be necessary. Give me fifteen minutes for a quick shower, then I’ll meet you both in the dining hall. I’m starving.”
When I start toward the door, I feel their eyes trailing me.
“Of course, Sir.”
If I’m not mistaken, this is the first time Darwin and Cole have met me. The real Damien Webb.
And it feels so fucking good to be seen.