4. Kaleb
Kaleb
Even in this place, where no light can make its way in, my knife shimmers.
I twist it between my fingers, the way I have so many times before. At this point, it’s another limb, an extension of me. A masterpiece.
Iridescent black and purple, the butterfly knife is as sharp as it gets. And every time the blade sparkles, it draws a whimper from the man in front of me.
Slowly, I drag my gaze back to him. Letting myself smile.
Here, in this abandoned factory turned torture room, I can smile. Anyone who comes here doesn’t leave.
At least not with a beating heart.
Apparently, my smile isn’t friendly. The way it makes the bleeding man cry out in fear. How rude...
With a click, I close the butterfly knife and shove in into my pocket. It’s too pretty to be used on such filth. I like to save her for more... satisfying jobs.
I prowl to the table that holds all my toys. The choices are endless. And because the pathetic excuse for a man already spilled all his secrets, I can start to have fun.
Disappointing, really... how quickly some men fold.
This one pissed his pants and had snot bubbling out of his nose before I even finished hanging him up with chains like a pig.
Man was dehydrated; that’s for sure.
And his secrets were the same utter bullshit that I’ve heard all month.
The Devils broke the truce in the grey zone.
The Devils are free targets.
The Devil’s territory is broken.
Blah, blah fucking blah.
We know the truth. The Devils had every right to destroy every last Wraith and spill their blood on the grey zone. They fucked with what’s ours, and they learned the hard way.
Now Zeke and his minions, well whatever is left of them, have crept back into hiding, licking their wounds. I don’t doubt for a second that they will bite back, eventually.
But right now, we have bigger issues. Being the fact that every little wannabe gang thinks they can have a go at the big leagues. That they can try to stop our shipments. Or, like this little fucker, try to start a fire in one of our nightclubs.
Seriously, they think a measly little flame will ruin us.
At least make it interesting, with some Molotov or something.
He blabbered about his puny club, a whole state away, trying to play along with the grey zone rules. Learned he fucked up real quick. Because now he’s strung up and bleeding out, the slow drips of his blood a satisfying lullaby.
Peering at the table, I decide to go with my bowie blade. It’s a heavy blade with a long clip point blade, perfect for when I want to hack into someone.
My eyes flick to the door, waiting for Kai to saunter in. We usually do this together. He loves watching me flay the skin from another human.
He’s late.
Maddy and Ash took over his little babysitting role an hour ago.
Maybe I’m being too much.
Colour me overprotective after that whole Wraith business. The business that had my brother tied up, bleeding and left to die.
The memory of watching that video over Ash’s shoulder has an icy coldness sluicing through my veins. So cold it makes me cock my arm back and slash the blade across the throat of the stupid man before me.
He dies as a shocked gasp falls from his lips, turning into a bloody gurgle, blood spraying me in warm, metallic drops.
“Flawless,” a monotone voice, murmurs from the shadows, a replica of mine.
Of course, I didn’t hear him enter. People never see or hear my twin brother until it’s too late. Until his gun is pressed against their temple and their skulls are reshaped.
“You finally decided to show up,” I reply, swiping my finger along the blade. Blood drips down my hand, down my wrist. Warm and thick, and beautiful. I repeat my movements on the other side, watching carefully as the life source runs rivulets down my own skin.
I’ve seen enough blood to fill an ocean, yet it never fails to entrance me.
I don’t bother waiting for a reply from my brother. It won’t come.
He slowly strides towards the lump of flesh, inspecting my shoddy work.
I have torture down to a fine art, the finished product something beautiful, something masterful. Sometimes, though, it’s messy. Messy and fucking gory, like now.
Kai lifts his hand, fingers grazing the open slash on the man’s neck. Fingers coming back blood red, rubbing them together.
“So, the friend killed someone?” I pry.
Honestly, I couldn’t give two fucks about that bitch. She’ll be dead before we calm the oceans between the gangs. We know who her two brothers are. And her father.
But I need to know the details so I can prepare for the obvious backlash we will receive.
Frankly, it’s a miracle she’s still alive.
Frankly, it’s a miracle Ash hasn’t killed her himself.
The fact that he lets Maddy he loves hang out with her, knowing she’s a walking target, is beyond me. I’d have her wrapped in rope and dropped into the harbour, just for the fun of it.
Reading my brother is something no one can ever do. Except for me. Every tiny micro expression speaks volumes. Like the way the corner of his mouth turns the smallest fraction. That’s a smirk. And it makes my teeth grind. Because my brother doesn’t smirk.
“Kai,” I grit out.
His dark eyes flick to my identical ones. And something in them makes me pause. Makes me put down the knife and step towards him.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my butterfly knife, flicking it open and twisting it in my fingers.
“She didn’t just kill him,” he replies, voice soft. There. There’s that look again. “She caved his face in with a baseball bat.”
Damn.
The silence stretches between us.
“Show me,” a slow grin curls across my lips. His brow barely shifts. “The body.”
“No,” he murmurs quietly, not taking his eyes off me.
“The girl, then,” I reply, the words laced with the kind of amusement that never ends well for anyone.
“No.”
My smile is dangerous. Barely matching the way my heart slows, ready for a fight that will end up with more blood. “Interesting,” I mutter. He doesn’t respond. Just stares at me with the blank face that makes everyone feel uncomfortable.
The face that people mistake for unfeeling.
A face born from feeling too much.
A cruel laugh spills from me, although I don’t find anything funny. “You fucked her.”
His silence is all the answer I need.
And for the first time in a long fucking time, my brother has managed to shock me.
We don’t do... that. Don’t fuck someone without the other there. Let’s call it a safety precaution.
My knife spins and spins.
Twenty-nine years of existing as the same mind split between two bodies, some fucking girl managed to make my brother step outside of us. With a psycho who likes to disfigure faces with sports toys.
Something angry beats beneath my ribs. The feeling is one I don’t recognise.
One I don’t like. It feels too much like something has been stolen from me.
“And you didn’t kill her?” I mock, all fake amusement dropping from my tone.
His eyes finally fall from mine, turning to the sack of meat. Circling it like a hungry shark. I should let it go. We have a mess to clean up and endless enemies who want to see us become the mess. We don’t have time for this.
But I can’t.
“Because you will kill her.” My voice is laced with cruelty. My brother needs to hear it. “Maybe you didn’t kill her this time. Maybe you won’t kill her the next. But you will. It’s the only certainty I know.”
I love my brother. He’s the only person I will ever love.
Yet sometimes I find myself wishing for him to give me more. Selfish, I know. I’m a selfish man.
How could I ever expect more from someone who’s been through the pain he has?
I’m lucky I have him at all.
Everything he is, I am. Everything I am, he is.
I am him and he is me.
We are the brothers with no last names.
He needs me. I won’t let him forget it.
“Is that what you want?” I continue watching Kai watch the blood seep out of the body. “To kill Maddy’s best friend because you couldn’t control yourself?”
Slowly, he circles the dead man. Painting the concrete floor in a map of blood. His fingers sift through the man’s ratty hair before slowly closing around it. Pulling, he contorts the head back, making blood gush onto the floor. His eyes flick to mine for a reaction.
I give him fucking nothing.
I may not be as expressionless as my brother. Not that anyone would notice. To the rest of the world, we are two cold soldiers. Empty faces cut from the same cloth. But I’m just as good at giving as little as he does.
Releasing the head, he turns. Disappearing into the shadows and leaving me alone again.
Leaving me to clean and dismember.
Leaving me to simmer. Alone.