Chapter 5 Reed
Reed
What are the odds?
That my mouse—the dazzling blonde runner who tempted fate—is a novice medical student in my ER?
The universe really does have a sick sense of humor.
Oh, the possibilities.
And the dangers.
He didn’t recognize me; I made sure of that as I watched his body language, a stammering first-year student who could barely string his words together with stuttering.
But those eager blue eyes, begging for corruption.
Begging to be sated.
I should have handed him off to another attending to avoid the messiness of it all.
But where is the fun in that?
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. My phone vibrates in my pocket, breaking the delicious thoughts gallivanting through my mind.
Candace: Hey baby bro, head-ups—Baptistes are in Minneapolis. Be careful. See you soon at the family reunion?
I stare at the message for a long second, the blood disappearing from my face.
Me: What do you mean? Why are they here?
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath to my empty office.
The Baptistes.
One of our rival clans across the border in Quebec.
They are first-class assassins that attempt rival our skill.
It’s a shame because they reek of cigarettes and cheap wine, the stench so overpowering you could pick ‘em up a mile away.
Or you might hear them yapping about the musicals they love to perform that always end in tragedy.
Bloodthirsty and performative.
And not to mention, over emotional.
Oui, Oui, motherfucker. You’ve stepped in my trap. Now I’m about to use the fur from your head to line my parka. Forget the geese.
I can picture their snobby French-Canadian accent, a Glock in their hand, unafraid to release chaos in daylight. Their lips dripping with maple syrup while they puff out smoke.
Why the fuck are they in Minneapolis?
They should be busy carrying out hits or beefing with my own clan. It’s been a tradition since the American Revolution. Raids on family compounds. Skirmishes in the night. Spoiled birthday rituals. Kidnapping the youngest.
I thought my past would stay in Maine—the murders, the blood, the pointless killing. Not follow me to the Land of 10,000 Lakes. Minnesota was supposed to be my hideaway. A new life where I could wash the blood from my hands.
Buzz. Buzz.
Candace: Not sure. Just a tip. Thought I would let you know.
Me: Thanks, sis. Owe you one.
Candace wouldn’t send a text unless she was confident about the threat. She has more kills under her belt than the rest of the siblings combined. My father’s prodigy. The blade that never dulled.
Everything that he wished I was.
But I’m just the heir living in self-granted exile.
A shame to the family, but the next in line to the world’s most dangerous family.
Even if I didn’t want the title, the family demanded it. The eldest son assumed the crown. It’s been the way for centuries.
Whether I want to or not, I’ll have to return someday.
Mentally prepare my conscience for the inevitable. Killing takes its toll on your psyche, even when you are killing the monsters that deserve it.
A Quinn family tradition that has led to my hereditary burnout. Generations of playing executioners with good intentions. When I started, I couldn’t get enough of the gutting, the blood splatters, hanging the lifeless corpses upside down for the crows.
I terrorized Manhattan and Jersey for almost a decade. Leaving no trace, besides my brutal displays.
But after a while, when the thrill dulls, you have to ask yourself: what is the point?
You exterminate four vermin, then six more pop up. It’s whack-a-mole with a butcher knife.
That’s why the stalking is so much more exciting.
It never ends—it’s the gift that keeps on shrieking.
No cleanup, no paperwork, no pesky corpses decomposing in inconvenient places.
Just the chase, the rhythm of predator and prey in sync.
The world makes more sense when someone’s running and I’m the reason why.
Buzz. Buzz.
Candace: By the way things have been crazy up here. Come back soon, baby bro.
Huh. That’s strange, usually Candace is one to dance in the chaos, not ask for help.
Me: What do you mean, crazy?
The bubbles flicker like she’s about to type, then vanish. Fuck, I might be attending a family reunion far sooner than I had hoped.