Chapter 11
Cain
In life, you get two choices: break—or break others.
Wayne Baker’s favorite saying played through my mind as I stood on a hill swallowed by darkness, staring down at his white clapboard farmhouse.
When I was a kid, it had seemed like a mansion—four bedrooms, two full baths, a whole dining room I wasn’t allowed to set foot in.
It had dwarfed Talon’s two-bedroom cottage.
Now it was just a tired old house, paint peeling off the siding, porch sagging under its own weight. Like Baker himself.
Still, I couldn’t look away.
When my father had gone over that cliff in his car, I was too young to understand we’d been on Lilith Island that night. To this day, I didn’t know if Baker had a hand in it. My dad was his wife’s brother, not his, and I remembered a huge argument right before it happened.
The Bakers had moved immediately to take custody of me, even though my mom’s sister had wanted me, too. The moment the ink dried on the legal documents, Wayne took control of my dad’s assets. That money was meant to be mine at twenty-one, but by then, he’d drained every cent to pay for my “care.”
In reality, he and Aunt June had used it to build a farmhouse and fill it with expensive antiques, then invested the remainder. All of it in their names, of course.
Some men would’ve killed Baker the moment they realized he’d stolen their inheritance. I’d even considered arranging an “accident” like my dad’s. The symmetry had its appeal.
But I didn’t want to kill Baker. I wanted to break him.
And as a syndicate vampire, I had the power to do it.
First his farm failed. I didn’t harm the small herd of Holsteins. Before Talon, those cows were my only friends. Yeah, I attended the island school—most days—but I didn’t make friends there. I was the freak, the kid with holes in his shoes and too-short pants and the thousand-yard stare.
So instead of killing the cows outright, I’d made sure Baker’s luck turned.
A few missed repairs here, a couple of years of failed crops.
Enough to push him into taking out a second mortgage on his house—from a bank the Maritime Syndicate effectively owned.
When he fell behind on the house payments, I made sure he wasn’t offered any extensions or leniency.
One by one, he sold off the herd. Then his investments tanked, and to stay afloat, he was forced to sell all that pricy furniture.
Baker made it all too easy. The man couldn’t hold a steady job to save his life. He was too much of an asshole to work for someone else.
Somewhere in there, Aunt June died of cancer. When the news reached me, I celebrated with a bottle of blood-whiskey and three thralls, my only regret that she didn’t live long enough to see her beautiful house, the one she’d been so proud of, collapse around her husband’s ears.
These days, Baker survived on odd jobs and growing what he could on the half-acre that was all that remained of his farm.
On Tuesday nights, he had a few friends over for beer and poker.
But other than that he was alone, brooding about what the world, the syndicate, and most of all, me, owed him. In his warped mind, anyway.
But he’d finally crossed the line. Me, I didn’t care about—it was entertainment, watching his feeble attempts at payback. Like a kitten batting at a toy mouse.
But when he’d involved another syndicate? He’d signed his own death warrant.
In the kitchen below, the light went out. A short time later, a lamp came on upstairs and my uncle’s silhouette appeared behind tattered lace curtains.
When I was a kid, Wayne Baker had been like God to me. He who must-be-obeyed, with a powerful build and hard fists. You didn’t question him. You didn’t even breathe wrong in his presence.
Now he seemed to be slowly caving in—hollow-chested, shoulders sloped.
The island bank had moved to repossess his house.
Baker had apparently realized by now that I was behind his bad luck.
He’d contacted the QCS—using his own phone.
He’d used an app with end-to-end encryption, but I was the syndicate’s resident tech guy along with the dhampir Adrian, and together, we’d unlocked the code.
My lips curved.
Time to play, Wayne.
I trotted down the hill to the house.
I didn’t bother with the front door. Instead, I swarmed up the siding to the bedroom. The windows were locked. I punched a hole in the nearest one and shoved my bare fist through the shards to undo the catch.
Baker burst out of the bathroom in boxers and a dirty gray tank, a toothbrush in his hand. His jaw dropped. Then his face reddened.
“You!” he snarled, sending toothpaste flying. “Get the hell out of my house.”
I pushed the window up and swung into his bedroom, feet first. “No.” I straightened to my full height. “I’m not that kind of vampire, Baker. I don’t need an invite to come inside.”
Without taking my gaze from his, I brought my bleeding hand to my mouth and licked the blood. His whole body went motionless, and his eyes jumped from side to side, unable to hold mine.
I sensed fear—and gods, it was sweet. I lapped up his apprehension like I lapped up my blood. Slowly, and with an unholy satisfaction.
Baker swallowed noisily, the toothbrush clenched in one fist.
Oh, yeah. Let him feel that heart-stopping dread, the terror that freezes you in your tracks like a hunted animal. Let him learn that some monsters smile when they come for you.
When my hand was clean, I prowled forward, enjoying how he stiffened. It freaked humans out when they realized I could move without them hearing me.
I stepped into his space, close enough that he had to tilt back his head to look into my face. His jaw hardened.
It was the first time he’d seen me since I was turned. Gods, how it must burn him that I’d grown into someone taller and more powerful than him.
“Go ahead and finish brushing your teeth,” I said.
He didn’t move. His throat bobbed. His gaze dropped to my chin. For the first time he looked a little unsure.
I let my lips curve. “Unless you’re too chickenshit to turn your back on me.”
His grizzled face darkened, a slow, ugly flush. Without a word, he turned, putting the toothbrush in its holder before filling a cup with water. He rinsed his mouth, spat deliberately into the sink, then faced me again.
“We’ll talk downstairs.” He walked forward.
I stayed where I was, forcing him to halt in the bathroom doorway. “See, that’s a problem. You think you’re in charge here.” Ignoring his angry flush, I stepped aside and gestured at the bedroom. “We’ll talk up here.”
His fury spiked. “You’re a screw-up, boy. Always have been, always will be.”
I leveled a stare at him. I wasn’t the scared, broken kid who’d had to bite his tongue—or else.
His mouth tightened. But he obeyed. No one ever said the man wasn’t smart. Mean as a junkyard dog, yeah—but smart.
He took a wide-legged stance on the worn blue rug, arms crossed over his caved-in chest, trying again to hold my stare—and failing. “What d’you want?”
I pursed my lips, pretending to think it over. “To make you sweat. To hurt you. Actually, I’ve been doing that for years.” I let the words settle, then added, almost lightly, “But I guess you finally figured out I’m the reason you lost the farm, and now the house, too.”
His face twitched, just enough to satisfy me.
“But then, you bought them with stolen money,” I went on. “My money. Money you took when I was too young to stop you.” I tsked and shook my head. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it, Wayne?”
“Why, you—” He lunged at me, hammer fists swinging.
For a moment, I was a kid again, facing that same raging bull. My breath jammed in my lungs, my heart pounding double time.
His fist shot toward my jaw. Feet planted, I instinctively tilted my head—too fast for a human to track—and his hand cut past my face with a whish. The other fist came for my temple. I evaded that, as well.
A frustrated growl tore out of him.
I snapped back to myself. I wasn’t that small, defenseless boy anymore. I was a fully grown vampire—stronger, faster, and more than able to stand my ground.
I pivoted on my heel, slicing a roundhouse kick through the air. It connected with his chin with a solid crunch. He dropped like a stone, hitting his head against the bedframe on the way down.
He lay there for a good ten seconds, breathing hard and staring up at me with murder in his eyes, while I waited to see if he was concussed. Not that I cared, but I didn’t have the patience to babysit him until he was well enough to talk.
“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped.
“A dead man.” I flashed an it’s-payback-time smile. “You fucked up, asshole.”
He blinked a couple of times. Then he rolled laboriously onto his side and sat up, the bed at his back. “I don’t know what you—”
I cut him off. “I’m doing the talking.”
He had the nerve to wave for me to continue like he had the power here.
My jaw clenched. I grabbed his hand mid-wave and broke his fucking index finger.
He let out a girly shriek. A downpayment on the pain he’d dealt me in the years between the time I was three and when I moved out at age sixteen.
He looked from his hand to me, outraged. “You’re fucked now, bloodsucker. There are rules. Laws. When the other islanders find out about this, you and your fancy-pants primus are toast.”
That startled a laugh from me. “Like you’re squeaky clean.
But if you want to go there, sure.” I was happy to explain exactly why he was going to die.
“Those rules only apply to humans who don’t fuck with us.
And Wayne, we caught you trying to sell intel to another syndicate.
That nullifies the agreement between the islanders and my syndicate, which means”—I brought my face close to his—“I. Can. Do. Anything. I. Fucking. Want.”
The color drained from his face except for two dull red spots on his cheekbones. He scrambled sideways along the bed on his ass, pushing himself with his feet and uninjured hand.
“Who told you that?” His eyes darted from side to side. “Because it’s a goddamned lie.”
I stalked the short distance between us and squatted next to him. “We hacked your cellphone, Uncle. You offered to help the QCS get to Brien. He’s our primus. Our alpha. And we like the man. Even if we hadn’t sworn an oath to follow and protect him, we’d be out for your blood.”
A pungent, fear-soaked sweat oozed from his pores. “I—you—”
I spoke over him. “But you had a problem. The QCS didn’t believe you could deliver Brien, so you offered them someone else instead—me.
For a million dollars, cash. Told them you’re my uncle so they’d know you were legit.
I don’t know why you’d think I’d go even five yards with you, let alone off-island.
But maybe you weren’t going to ask me. Maybe you had some stupid-assed idea of trying to kidnap me. ”
“It’s not what you think.” He licked his lips. “I was stringing them along, okay? Waiting for them to set up a time and place, and then I was gonna come to you people.”
I closed my hand around his throat, not enough to injure, just enough to make the untruth catch in his windpipe. “Uh-uh, Wayne. We hate liars. Don’t we?” That was the one lesson he’d beat into me that I hadn’t thrown away.
“It’s the truth.” Face turning purple, he clawed at my wrist, panic edging his voice. “I swear.”
“You know we can sense a lie, don’t you?” I rose to my feet, bringing him with me, so that he was forced to stand on tiptoes. Allowing him just enough air so my fun didn’t end too soon.
He gave up trying to defend himself. “You—” he gasped. “You won’t—get away with this. I have—friends.”
I snorted. “Nobody cares about you except your poker buddies, and my guess is they’ll miss you for two weeks, tops. If they do come to the castle asking about you, we’ll stonewall them. Maybe I’ll even burn down this damn house. In a few years, no one will even remember you ever lived here.”
His eyes bulged. He slammed his knee up toward my balls.
I blocked it with my thigh, then lifted him above me and walked across the floor with him.
When he realized where I was heading, he went wild, kicking and twisting in my grip.
He was still fighting when I tossed him, headfirst, out the window.
He flew toward the graveled driveway below, arms and legs flailing in a useless scramble. At the last second, he twisted, landing on his side instead of his head. His left arm gave with a satisfying crack.
I landed in a crouch beside his crumpled form. He sucked in a sobbing breath, his heart thrashing against his ribs like it wanted out.
“You’re still alive.” I smiled down at him. “Good. I’m not done playing.”