Chapter 3
Rhylan
JUSTIFICATION.
It’s been five weeks since Dustin Slate stepped through the doors of Kerosene, and as far as I could tell, every single one of us was still standing—alive. Ten had completed their tests without issue, and now only seven remained, including me.
Even with the extended offer, I never joined Trent and Silas at the shooting range; still working through the moral implications that were holding me back from accepting the inevitable.
While I’m no stranger to pushing boundaries under normal circumstances—blurring lines since birth—this decision was life-altering. Any sane man would question where they acknowledged their limits when it came to committing the unthinkable.
Slowly but surely, I was starting to agree with the rest of the Cowboys; those who’ve taken their tests at least. Not one of them had batted an eye at completing their assigned task, and I was beginning to see the unity the rings were symbolizing, a brotherly bond that was unlike any of our relationships from before.
“Silas got his text this morning, so I’m guessing yours will be here any day now.” Trent pulled out the barstool beside me and took a seat as I sipped my water. We’d just finished our last round of rehearsals for the week, and the doors were about to open in a few short hours.
The tests came in consistent waves of two per week, not necessarily back-to-back, but within twenty-four to forty-eight hours of one another.
“I see that look, and you need to knock it the fuck off, before you make the biggest mistake of your life—literally.” Trent rested a forearm on the bar as he angled his body to face me, boring holes into the side of my head as if he could see every single thought running through it.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already completed your test… You killed for that.” I nodded my head to the thick black band on his right hand. “Not to mention the new Raptor out back.”
Every dancer who succeeded bought the things they’d always dreamed of owning: massive ranch homes, more acreage, sports cars, and flashy trucks. Not a single second was wasted from the moment that money hit their bank accounts. It was burning a hole in their pockets.
“Look, we’ve all got to make tough choices in life, and sometimes it's okay to choose the easy way out, especially if it means keeping a job you enjoy without having to worry about affording next month's bills.”
“I wasn’t judging—”
“And you still have a choice, no one is forcing you to kill anyone—”
“Well… actually they are—”
“If you think the life of a felon is worth more than your own, then by all means, take the bullet yourself… But ask any of the Cowboys who’ve taken their shot what they suggest, and I bet every single one of them will give you the same answer: that their targets didn’t deserve the air they fucking breathed.
” Trent’s tone was serious. There was no questioning how he felt about the assignments and the passion behind their purpose.
“We aren’t the criminals here, Rhy. We’re the solution.
Let that perspective sink in before you even consider changing your mind. ”
Hard to argue with such a bold statement, and I did trust his judgment. Morals aside, I trusted Trent and respected the fuck out of him. I’d be an idiot not to look at my situation through his eyes.
“I don’t know if I can take a life.” I sighed, admitting my ineptness aloud.
“Then don’t. Correct a wrong instead, and have some fun while you’re at it.”
“Fun? What do you mean by ‘fun’?”
“Look at it this way… Have you ever met someone you hated so fucking much that you wished their life would get ended in the most fucked up way–but one they deserved?” He paused as I grasped what he was suggesting. “Well, now you can make that happen.”
“You do realize that you’re justifying murder along with torture, right?”
“Welcome to the world of the damned, my friend. You’ve scored yourself a front row ticket to the easiest, most luxurious life you could ever wish to lead, and all you gotta do is trust in the brotherhood.”
“You sound like a fucking cultist.”
“The Men Under Revue is far from a cult, and you’ll figure that out when you meet with Dustin to receive your ring.
He’ll answer all your questions and put your mind at ease...
And I’ll be the first to admit that his barging in here and taking over was extreme, but it was a fucking godsend—for all of us.
The time has come to cowboy up, Rhy. It’s now or never. ”
Evidently, I was more impressionable than I’d initially thought, because the longer we talked, the more intrigued and open-minded I became. Finding myself less anxious and more willing to kill without further argument.
THIRTY-SIX HOURS LATER.
Did I ever imagine that I would reach the point of having to decide between the life and death of someone I’ve never met? Fuck no. And yet, here I was, staring at a text on my phone that detailed the name and location of a man I was expected to kill.
Silas had flown out to Vegas this morning to claim his well-deserved reward for successfully completing his test. He and Trent held zero regrets or remorse for what they’d done, and at the end of the day, I found myself more aligned with them than ever before.
As I sat on the back step of Kerosene, just outside the emergency exit door, I kept staring at my text, as if it were an Amber Alert.
“C’mon, Rhy. It’s not that fuckin’ hard.” I uttered to myself, chewing the side of my thumb as I wrestled my way into last-minute acceptance.
A life of complacency was boring—that’s fucking obvious. And as Trent had mentioned the other day, you don’t get an opportunity like this, ever.
The thought of being set for life...
At this point, I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. So what was left to question? I didn’t want to die; I was only twenty-four and had my whole life ahead of me. Besides, I wasn’t doing this alone, not really…
Alright, fuck it.
It’s time for Rhylan to lock his shit up and knock this curveball out of the fucking park.