Chapter 6 Seven
CHAPTER SIX
SEVEN
She’s. So. Fucking. Cute. When she gets that little pouty look, I just want to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze until she goes pop.
It’s a horribly morbid, intrusive thought—one that will never lead to action. Still, the desire is there. And, honestly, fuck whichever God made her so irresistible. It’s not fair. Not fucking right. In fact, it’s downright immoral, the way I want her.
To be a drop of sweat sliding over her skin, or an eyelash falling to her cheek, just to be whisked away. But the bliss of being touched by those hands…
The memory of her fingers wrapped around my wrist floods my mind. The way she used me, the way her face twisted up when she came on the palm of my hand. It makes me wish I were curled up next to her in bed, rather than staring at her between the slits in her closet door.
I arrived back in Moriton this morning. It was a day later than I originally planned due to the difficulty of the operation, but the trip was ultimately successful. Mr. Graves is six feet under, and I’m the only one who knows it.
Archer Graves had no family to speak of and no long-term girlfriend to worry about where he’s gone—which made it all the easier to take over his life.
While waiting at the airport to fly back to Moriton, I emailed the CEO of LoveBytten from Archer’s personal phone and explained that my travel plans had changed and that I would be arriving in Moriton a week earlier than planned.
Luckily, Ms. Novak bought the story easily enough and was thrilled to hear I’d be arriving early—though she was a bit put-out that she had to cancel Archer’s welcome party.
With all the pieces falling into place, there was only one more thing I needed to do: Visit Grace. The only problem is that she had to work all day, and I had just received a cleanup job from the Sanctum.
While I should have been dealing with the Sanctum, I chose to blow my work off so I could lurk in Grace’s apartment—a decision I knew I might come to regret but couldn’t undo.
It’s not like I lazed around all day, though.
I took my time setting up cameras around her apartment, checking from every possible angle to make sure Grace wouldn’t discover them.
After that, I noticed her bathroom drain was clogged, so I grabbed the unused snake from the back of her bathroom cabinet and took care of it.
When I was all done, I looked up and discovered several of the lights were out—and fuck it, I was already in deep—so I left, made a stop at the hardware store, and replaced every bulb in her apartment.
I’d like to say I stopped there, but that would be a lie.
With all the new light, the dust covering the surfaces of Grace’s apartment became more apparent.
I had a couple of hours to waste still, so I took it upon myself to vacuum, mop, and dust. I didn’t get to her piles of laundry—but that’s only because her red-haired friend, Saffron, made an unexpected appearance.
I wasn’t aware she had a key, so when I heard someone tampering with the front door, I nearly pulled out my weapon and shot. Just before I pulled the trigger, my better senses returned to me, and I chose to hide under the bed so I could surveil them instead of outright killing the intruder.
And thank fuck I did. Grace would never forgive me if I killed her best friend.
I had to wait under that bed for over an hour, listening to Saffron’s 2000s greatest pop hits playlist on loop until Grace got home. I got a glance of her changing, but then Saffron whisked her out the door to some bar with a funny name, and I was left alone again.
Of course, I had to follow them. For safety.
And also so I could check out Grace’s ass in her little denim shorts.
Luckily, their night out was uneventful, and soon, Grace and Saffron were heading back to her apartment.
I took the liberty to beat them back to her place, and I’ve been waiting in the closet ever since.
Now, I’m just waiting for the sedative in Grace’s tea to kick in.
With little else to do, I take the time to inspect my new ID card. I pull it out of my wallet and up to the light, rubbing my thumb across the raised lettering beneath my picture.
Archer Graves. Mr. Graves.
I never had a last name. Not one I can remember, anyway. I was the seventh boy purchased by the Sanctum on that particular day, and the Mask who collected me was tired of coming up with names, so he called me Seven. No last name, no middle. Just Seven.
My records were destroyed in the fire that took down the original Sanctum HQ, so I have no way of knowing who my birth parents were.
I was so young when I was taken, there’s no way for me to remember any fact about where I came from, who I was born to.
So I stopped thinking about it. My anonymity is a gift in a way.
I can be anyone I want, whenever I want.
And now, I am Mr. Archer Graves, COO of LoveBytten.
I kind of like the name—even if it doesn't technically belong to me. It just feels right somehow.
My thoughts are broken as Grace lets out a loud snore.
Chest tightening with excitement, I creep out of the closet and come to a stop at the side of her bed, my eyes wide and unblinking as I watch her sleep.
She’s having a dream, and her face is all twisted up, drool crusted at the corner of her mouth.
So. Fucking. Cute.
Before I can reach for her, my phone buzzes with a text, diverting my attention from my beautiful girl and souring my mood. With a snarl, I pull the device from my pocket, anger simmering in my veins as I read the message displayed on the screen.
Viktor
We need to talk.
Fuck my life. If I don’t respond, he’ll just show up at my apartment. If he can’t find me there, he’ll tear the city apart to find me. I know Viktor well, and he’s not a man to be told no.
Me
Name a place and time. I’ll meet you.
Viktor
I’m already on my way to your apartment. See you there in ten.
I blow out an irritated breath as I shove my phone into my pocket. Fucking Viktor. Giving Grace’s sleeping form one last longing glance, I grab my things and exit her apartment.
As soon as I step through the door of my dwelling, I know something is off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as a cool breeze blows through the open balcony doors, and my adrenaline spikes. I know I didn’t leave those open.
My hand moves to the weapon at my hip at the same time a man steps out of the shadows.
His outline is massive, the kind that would make most linebackers jealous—but when he moves, it’s with the grace of a dancer.
An old red mask covers his features, rusted and full of dents from years of use.
His hair is graying at the temples, and I know beneath the mask lies a face weathered by decades of life under the rule of the Sanctum.
Viktor steps closer, the limp in his gait more pronounced than the last time I saw him. “Seven,” he barks, by way of greeting. “I thought I was going to have to track you down.”
“It’s been fifteen minutes since you texted.” I shove an accusatory finger in his chest. “And you shouldn’t be tracking anyone down with that knee. When’s the last time you went to the doctor?”
“Fuck you. I’m perfectly fine.” Viktor reaches up, ripping off his mask so he can glare at me. “And stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Caring!” he snaps. “When you say shit like that, it makes it harder to be pissed at you.”
“You could… stop being pissed at me for a change. I think it might help your blood pressure.”
“I’ll stop being pissed when you stop being a little shit. And my blood pressure is fine.”
I raise a brow. “Fine, like your bum knee?”
He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes with a tortured expression as he murmurs, “Don’t kill the boy, Viktor. It won’t make you feel better.”
“You wish you could kill me.” I roll my eyes. “And I haven’t been a boy for twenty years.”
Viktor huffs. “You’ll always be a boy to me.”
“Because you’re an ancient relic?”
He fixes me with an icy glare. “Careful, Seven. You don’t know what I might have slipped into your food while I was waiting here alone.”
“I doubt you had the foresight.” I move to the sofa, plopping down with a dramatic sigh and sprawling out. “What do you want, Viktor?”
“I wish to discuss your… hobby.”
“I don’t have hobbies.”
He steps closer, his face like thunder. “But you do, Seven. I know all about it. Red 7? It’s not even unique.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t get to pick the fucking name. You can write that reporter from The Moriton Times a strongly worded letter if you don’t like it.”
He sighs heavily. “Seven… You have to stop.”
“Why? It’s the truth. I didn’t pick the name.”
“Not about that,” he says. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and the Sanctum won't like it. The Sanctum has been having a lot of issues with rogue Masks since Seraphina took over, and they’ve been trying to talk to them, get them to stop—-with as much success as I’m having with you right now.
” He narrows his eyes in a glare. “The fact is, they’re going to lock all of you up if you don’t quit.
They won’t kill you, but they can’t have highly trained Masks running around Moriton killing and doing whatever the hell they please.
They need to contain the problem before it gets out of hand.
” He gives me a pointed look. “That means locking you away where you won’t be a problem anymore. ”
“You’d see me put in prison?”
“I wouldn’t stop it if it was ordered,” he says.
My fists clench. “Really? You’d just let it happen?”
“You’re out of order, Seven. Out of control. You’re a liability—”
“To who? To what? All I do—all I’ve been doing—is taking care of the trash on the streets. No one has ever cared when I did my job before.”
“You’re murdering people, Seven.”
“So?” I ask, my voice deadly quiet. “I’ve done it all my life.
‘Take care’ of this person, clean up that crime scene, hide this evidence, pretend I didn’t see that…
the list goes on and on. All of my actions, all of my life, have been directly tied to someone’s death.
So is it really so fucking different if I do it with my own hands for once?
” I lean back, letting out a deep breath.
“Is it really so bad if I do some good for once?”
Viktor frowns, his ice-blue eyes staring hard into mine. “Yes. It is.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not made for it, Seven. All your ‘good intentions’ are going to cause people serious pain.
They’re ill-placed, and you can’t even see it through all the hurt you’re living with.
” He shakes his head. “Let it go. Give this up.
Go back to the way things were before you end up killing yourself. "
“There is no going back. Everything has changed.”
“Just because the Sanctum’s changed, doesn’t mean the rules cease to exist. We all have our parts to play, same as we did before. We still have our duty.”
I scoff. “Duty? I’m basically a janitor, Viktor. I could drop dead and our 'benevolent ruler’ would be none the wiser.”
“You don’t know Seraphina, then. She’d know. She’d care.”
“She’s got you fooled, too.” I shake my head. “She’s still a Madam. She will always be a Madam. She’s just as bad as the rest of them. Just as cruel—we just haven’t seen it yet.”
“Are you so cynical, Seven, that you can’t accept your good fortune? Seraphina is not like the ones before her. She wants to help us—all of us. That means you, too, no matter how much you fight.”
I’m growing tired of the conversation. “Is that really why you’re here? To get me onto Seraphina’s good side? Because you’re wasting your fucking time.”
Viktor shakes his head. “As much as I’d like to change your mind… no. I came to try to save you from yourself, but I see what a fool I was now.”
Viktor leaves in a huff, storming out of my apartment and slamming the door hard enough to shake the walls.
A small part of me worries he’s angry enough to tell the Sanctum about what I’m up to, but I quickly dispel that fear.
I’ve known Viktor for more than two decades now, and he’s never betrayed me.
The man practically raised me, pulling me under his wing the first day I walked into the Sanctum and never letting go.
He’s the father I’ve never had, and I know no matter what he says, he won’t turn the Sanctum against me.
Viktor is just worried about me, and that comes out as anger—it’s the only way he knows to express it. But I can’t let his fears dictate how I live. Not when I’ve finally discovered something that makes it all worth it.
At the reminder of Grace, I move to my bedroom and sit on the bed, pulling up the live feed of Grace’s bedroom on my phone. My chest aches at the sight of her pretty little face, lips parted and trembling in sleep.
I hope I can make it to tomorrow.