Meet Your Knotty Maker: RIP Alpha

Chapter 1

Vale

“Please, you don’t have to do this. I have money. I have power. God, please!” he stresses. “I can give you anything. You want my daughter? Fine, she’s yours!”

I snarl behind my mask; the sound coming out guttural and fierce, but worse is Rory’s dark laughter, which sounds deeply insane and sadistic. The promise of death is in the sounds we make.

“Why would we want anything of yours?” Dakota purrs.

Linus Wade flinches back, knocking his head hard on the wet stone.

He’s covered in sweat, and his eyes are red-rimmed, but he’s still far too much alive for my tastes.

We’ve let him run himself to exhaustion inside a warehouse of traps and things that like to cause pain.

Cyn is all about prolonging their fear and inducing agony, making it stretch out.

He would take them for a month and take bits off them piece by piece until there was nothing left, but we are a pack, and we share our kills.

Cyn leans against the wall, his arms folded, the smiling expression on the black leather mask hiding the bored one I know he’s wearing.

Perhaps we should have just given this bastard to Cyn.

But alas, we are short on time. I lift up the hammer I’ve got in my hands.

It’s a classic. The sadistic part of me is fed by the brutality that comes directly from the amount of pain I can cause.

I am nothing if not methodical in my destruction.

“I don’t want your money, and your power is nothing,” I say coldly, advancing on him. “As for your daughter, well, it just shows what kind of pond floater you are, trying to save your own neck by giving up hers.”

He cries out, wordless sounds that cause snot to bubble out his nose.

“Gross,” Dakota growls. His mask has its mouth open in a roar. Kota likes killing up close and personal. A garrote, evisceration, strangulation. He likes to look into their eyes and watch the souls float away.

“Don’t you have an omega? A beta? Someone who is yours?” Linus cries.

I chuckle. “Absolutely not. Can you imagine some poor omega being stuck with the four of us? We’d destroy her.

She’d have to be extraordinary to get us to change our ways, and no such beast exists,” I say in a musing tone.

The idea of finding an omega is laughable.

It’s ridiculous. We’re not just violent when we kill; we’re violent in bed, our heads are dark places, our version of fun is terrifying.

No, an omega would spell absolute ruin for us.

“Nice diversion tactic,” I murmur with a chuckle.

Rory lunges for Linus and grabs his hair, dragging him towards us. Before I can protest, he jabs him with a cocktail of whatever the fuck he’s mixed up this time.

“Really?” I growl, frustrated with my erratic and highly dangerous pack member.

“You can still kill; I want to see if this works first, though.”

“Rory, we discussed this. You can’t just go jabbing them with things. It’s not fair on the rest of us.”

“Fair?” Linus croaks. “None of this is fair!”

“Shut up!” Cyn hisses and steps towards him.

Linus’ expression turns to one of pure terror, and he scrambles backwards. Cyn is terrifying, everyone says so.

“Look, the last time you jabbed someone, you did it with enough electricity to melt their face.”

Linus squeals.

“I was curious,” Rory mutters and casts me a look that I know is full of reproach. I did promise not to bring that up again.

“It was disgusting. And there was the time before when you poured that acid stuff on his torso and it ate a hole straight through and killed him before the rest of us had a chance.”

Rory folds his arms over his chest. “So, what are you saying?”

“Share, Rory. Don’t be a greedy little killer.”

There’s a hysterical whimper that we ignore.

He comes to me with feline grace, and I cup the side of his masked head and touch our foreheads together.

“I love you, but you need to share.”

He snarls. “Fine.”

I heave an indulgent sigh. I can’t resist him being cute and murdery for long. “Okay. Let’s wait and see what happens.” I perch myself on the torture chair we have down here. The manacles are open and empty, but he’s not getting away.

“You’re monsters,” he slurs.

He crawls to the wall and tries to pull himself up, but can’t manage it.

“Fascinating,” Rory whispers. “What do you see, Linus? How does it feel?”

“If you rattle off some weird compound and reaction you are expecting, I’m going to punch you in the face,” Kota snaps.

Rory crouches near our victim and watches as he screams and tries to get away.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rory kill with anything as mundane as a knife.

Hell, I’ve watched him drug someone and let a butterfly lead them over the side of a building.

Death by butterfly was a new one for me.

And he’s practiced a lot of the old torture techniques.

He is always looking for new ways to kill.

His brain is a truly fascinating place to be.

All of a sudden, Linus starts clawing at his face. He digs his fingers into his skin and peels strips off his cheeks.

“Well, that’s…hmm,” Cyn says and moves to where he can get a better view.

“Oh, how sad,” I say. “Messy, but sad.”

Kota flicks me an amused glance. “Can I have him when he’s finished?”

I glance at Cyn and Rory, who both shrug.

“Sure.”

Kota reaches out and strokes his shoulder. “You hear that, Linus? We’re going to be besties until death do us part.” And then he starts to laugh, the perfect counterpoint to Linus’ terrified screams.

“He didn’t have the information that we needed,” Cyn grumbles and taps the chin of his mask before he yanks it off, revealing an alpha with golden skin and hair. I’ve heard alphas and omegas whisper about him being part Fae because he’s so beautiful.

I huff and swipe the last of Linus’ dismembered body into the barrel we have prepared.

When we have more time, I’ll incinerate his body and get rid of anything that still remains.

Our murder space is equipped with state-of-the-art technology, including being wired to self-implode if someone tries to get in while we aren’t here.

I pause, looking down at the letter that is deplorably old school and pretentious. It’s black with gold writing that has been painstakingly handwritten in some ancient version of calligraphy. It’s not so much the letter that’s the issue; it’s the content.

It was left at the scene of our last kill.

Detective Roseland, the newly appointed pain in our ass cop came out on TV and blasted whoever was sick enough to create it.

The young detective has not been a direct issue, but I’m thinking he might end up being one soon enough. Either way, I have my eye on him.

“We’ll find this bastard. Don’t worry,” I promise.

The rival serial killer killed the innocent daughter of one of our victims. A man who deserved it more than anything.

The girl didn’t. And we have a line. It’s not a wide line, but it’s one we don’t cross.

There are plenty of assholes in this world who need murdering, so why go after someone who doesn’t?

And killing children? That’s a personal line that will draw all our sick attention.

Rory leans against the wall, staring up at the light.

His dark hair and green eyes are striking, and somehow, without trying, he manages to terrify people.

“Serial killers hunting serial killers. It’s an interesting game.

” Beneath the thoughtful concern is a deep well of rage building for this serial killer. Not one of us likes to be challenged.

I grit my teeth and start the final steps of the cleanup procedure. “If he keeps killing the innocent family members of our kills, I’m going to find him and unleash hell on him.”

Serial killer Marrow has a distinct signature where he drills into the bones of his victims, right down to their marrow and removes a trophy.

He hasn’t been able to not leave that signature on any of his kills, and the police know that.

They think this letter is fake; I don’t.

I think it’s a message to us. This is a game we’re about to start playing with abandon.

The four of us cover our tracks, hiding everything behind chaos. There is nothing to profile. We make sure of that. Everything is random, and bodies are seldom ever found. But it would seem that someone has figured us out.

It didn’t take long for us to work out that we are living in a city with the most prolific serial killers in the world. Along with Marrow, there are half a dozen more active killers and a few that we suspect exist but can’t prove.

Marrow decided to come after us. He’s stepping on our turf and declaring war. I cannot abide by it. I won’t.

I hose everything down and then meticulously scrub everything with bleach.

“We have to go. The movie premiere is starting soon, and we still need to get dressed,” Kota reminds us. He grins, that same smile that makes people feel at ease. With his boy-next-door good looks, his looks are almost as deceptive as Cyn’s.

I follow them up out of the secret room in our basement, up into our mansion.

We’ve got the money, the power, the smarts to find and defeat this asshole.

Nothing can or will stop us when we start a hunt. And it might amuse us for a while, which is always a bonus.