“Are you sure this plan will work?”
Eli’s body remains completely still while he tilts his head to the side, biding his time.
Waiting.
We’ve been hiding behind the bushes in the corner of the Heathens’ back entrance for an hour now and there’s still no sign of the ‘prey’ my brother said we’re hunting tonight.
“Patience, baby bro. We have to let the prey come out of its own accord.”
“Why can’t we just weed it out?”
He gives me a sideways glance, one full of sadism. “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
We’re both dressed in jeans and hoodies and probably look like serial creeps with depraved tendencies. Which is true, to an extent.
It doesn’t help that it’s late, about two in the morning late, and the streets are practically empty.
Ever since I saw the text Annika sent me, the one where she announced going back to the States, I’ve been restless. Those black shadows lined my vision and I couldn’t stay still.
The first thought that came to mind was that her father wouldn’t allow her to come back here. She was always proud of how she convinced him to let her attend REU, but the fact remains that he was opposed to the idea.
Considering her mafia background, she’s prone to lose whatever freedom she’s enjoyed for the last couple of months. Especially if Jeremy has any say in it.
Which he wouldn’t have had if she’d let me deal with him earlier.
Since that option is now out of the question, and I had nothing to say that wouldn’t have come out sounding petty, I marked the conversation as Not Read until I could think of a better reply.
And that brings us to the now where I followed Eli in his nightly endeavors. Which is still better than tossing and turning in bed, being scratched by Tiger for sport, or entertaining Remi’s drunk ramblings—that usually include revealing any secrets he’s come across.
“There he is.” Eli’s lips pull in a smirk as he jerks his head in the direction of a buff man slipping out the back entrance.
“How can you tell it’s him? He could be going out for a smoke.”
“One, he could’ve had the smoke inside the property. Two, he’s grabbing a blunt but not lighting it in order not to draw attention. Three, and most importantly, he’s walking in strategic lines that I’m sure are the cameras’ blind spots. Guess who goes to these lengths to leave a property they’re supposed to be guarding?”
“Someone who has something to hide.”
“Bingo.” He grabs me by the shoulder. “Remember when we used to release those worms and cockroaches in the garden to watch them wiggle and struggle away only so we could catch them? Time to repeat the process.”
“Dad aborted our plan every time, remember?”
His smirk widens in pure imitation of what I assume Lucifer looks like on his throne in hell. “Lucky for us, Dad isn’t here.”
It’s useless to remind him that Dad eventually finds out about everything. But even I am willing to forgo that possibility if it means I’ll get closer to my goal.
We follow the guard, keeping a safe distance away until he’s off TKU’s soil.
His hands are in his pockets and his steps are measured, unhurried, and have a careless rhythm to them. He’s used to this street, despite the fact that it’s hidden.
Considering he’s not a native to the island, like all of TKU’s students and guards, this can only be a learned behavior he’s acquired with time.
“He’s off to meet someone,” Eli voices my thoughts, then grins. “Want to guess who?”
Sure enough, the guard reaches a secluded area on the beach. We hide behind the corner of a building as he does a full sweep of the area before he opens the door of a high-end, and very familiar, black Tesla.
We expected the loud McLaren that Landon treats like a lover instead of a car. He absolutely loathes electric cars, so he would never switch to a Tesla.
“Brandon…?” I voice as the guard disappears inside.
“Brandon’s car,” Eli tells me with a raise of an eyebrow. “That Landon could’ve easily taken for a ride. It goes without saying that he wouldn’t have used his own for this mission. He’s probably used Remi’s and yours before.”
Now that I think about it, Landon did take my car for a spin in the past. He could’ve easily borrowed any of our keys to conduct this operation.
We wait for a few minutes, watching the black car with tinted windows. Then, finally, the guard steps out and starts walking away from us.
The Tesla revs, something Bran would never do, before it speeds down the street.
“We’re getting that guard,” I say.
“My thoughts exactly, baby bro.”
We take our time following the man through all the twists and turns he takes.
When he reaches a secluded alley, Eli and I share a look, then we diverge in opposite directions.
I stand in front of the guard, hands in my pockets, with every intention of blocking his path.
He stops, narrows his mean eyes, and then reaches into his jacket. Before he can pull out whatever weapon he has hidden, Eli smacks him from behind with a rock.
The guard falls to his knees on the dirty ground, revealing the manic smile on my brother’s face.
“Improvising.” My brother throws the rock in the air and catches it. “Can’t say I hate it.”
The man appears to be in his late thirties, has small eyes, thin lips, and white-blond hair cut military style. He slaps a hand on the back of his head where a small wound gushes with blood. I wouldn’t call it fatal, but it definitely needs stitches.
“What the fuck…?” He stares between the two of us. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Judging by the Russian accent, you’re part of the mafia. Check,” Eli muses, appearing to enjoy this a bit too much. “I’m also going to guess you’re on Jeremy’s side, not Nikolai’s. Or more accurately, you’re a double agent who’s crossing Jeremy?”
The guard’s eyes turn bloodshot, narrower, which means we’re getting close. He starts to stand, but I kick him back down with a foot and keep my leg on his chest.
He releases his nape and wiggles, just like those worms back when we were kids. But this time, he manages to get his gun and jumps up. I kick his hand, and it clinks to the ground.
Eli kicks it away, grabs the man’s arms and hauls them behind his back, then shoves him to his knees again. “Now, now, let us not use weapons in this. They’re illegal on UK soil anyway.”
“We’re going to ask you a few questions.” I push the sleeves of my hoodie up. “You’ll either answer them nicely or we can turn your face into a map of destruction first.”
He spits at me and I smile. “A map of destruction, it is.”
I use him as my punching bag, driving my fist into his face, chest, and stomach over and over as Eli holds him back.
My brother gets bored halfway through, suppresses a yawn, and chooses to scroll through his phone. While still grabbing him in a deadly clutch.
I slam my fist underneath the man’s jaw, sending it flying sideways, and ask for the dozenth time. “What are you telling Landon?”
I expect the guard to remain silent like before, but he breathes harshly as blood pours from his mouth. “Are you going to take his place in clearing my debts?”
“We might.” Eli’s manic attention slides to the guard and he tucks his phone in his pocket. “But if you don’t tell us what we want to know, not only will you lose us as sponsors, but we’ll also make sure you lose Landon. King money might be infinite, but it’s hard to come by for peasants like you.”
“You don’t even care to hide your identities,” the guard pants out, sounding barely coherent with all the blood that’s gushing from his lips and nose.
“Does it make a difference?” Eli releases the man’s wrists, strolls in front of him, and cocks his head to the side. “Who would believe a traitor cockroach like you anyway? Definitely not Jeremy. And if you think Lan has your back, then you’re in for a life lesson. My cousin has absolutely no fucks to give about anyone who’s not himself and his dick. The moment he realizes you’re no longer a useful pawn in his alleged grand schemes, he’ll discard you.”
“You’ll pay the debts?” He’s speaking to me, probably having figured out I’m the least unhinged, despite the galaxy of bruises I left on his face.
Poor cunt.
There’s no such thing as a sane King.
Still, I nod and step back.
The guard takes a few moments to rise to his feet, then lets his weight fall against the dirty stone wall and taps his pockets before he fetches a blunt.
It takes a few more moments for him to light it. We don’t interrupt, patiently waiting for him to divulge what he knows. As Eli said, it’s better to allow the prey to come out on its own since any form of coercion might have the exact opposite effect.
And from what I gather, this man holds no loyalty to anyone. Except for his debts. Probably due to gambling.
“Landon wanted to know about the Volkov family secrets, but he was particularly interested in one that reached the media but remained a cold case.” He releases a cloud of smoke. “This happened a long time ago, when I was twenty and had just recently left Russia to join the New York Bratva. I saved one of the leaders by putting my life in jeopardy and soon after, I was recruited by Adrian Volkov’s men. Back then, he had this pesky problem that scattered his attention from his duties as the strategist of the New York City branch.”
“Oh?” Eli leans against the wall, mirroring his stance, and even retrieves a cigarette, then shoves it at the corner of his lips but doesn’t light it. “And pray tell, what might that be?”
“His wife went”—the man circles his finger near his temple—“crazy.”
“Crazy?” I echo.
Is that what Annika meant when she said her parents had a dark start that she wasn’t a part of?
“The type of crazy that was kept under wraps even within Boss’s inner circle. We weren’t allowed to utter her name unless we wished for a one-way ticket to the Spetsnaz, or worse, a grave.”
“That’s an interesting story, really. I’m all for craziness.” Eli pulls his unlit cigarette from between his lips as if he’s smoking. “But I don’t see why that’s of importance in the current circumstances.”
“Her craziness drove her to commit murder.”
“Now, that’s a much better tidbit for drawing suspense. And?”
“The man she killed was a public figure. A mayoral candidate, in fact. The one who would’ve for sure won that year’s election, considering he was the people’s favorite. She stabbed him thirty-four times, repeatedly, long after he was dead.”
My ears buzz with a grating ringing sound and the walls start closing in around me. The onslaught is so sudden that I have trouble breathing. The collar of my hoodie scratches against my skin and my side where my tattoo tingles and burns.
“Sounds bloody brutal,” Eli says.
“Looked gruesome, too. I was sent with a few others to the murder scene to remove any incriminating evidence before the authorities came along. The man had an absolutely horrified expression, as if his soul had been extracted by the devil himself.”
“And?” Eli asks.
“There’s no and. That’s the incident Landon wanted details about. I told him that the murder of the mayoral candidate was swept under the rug and no one was convicted for it. In fact, his mask was ripped off in public. Turns out, he was never the righteous man the media had portrayed him to be. Many women came forward confessing that he’d sexually assaulted them, including the homeless he was supposed to be taking care of as the shelter’s director. He also kept a file full of videos and pictures of them that he held over their heads as a form of blackmail. His wife was also accused of recruiting suitable candidates for his sick tastes. It was the ultimate shaming event for him and his family, and all the vapid mouths turned to his wife. She lost everything her husband left her to loan sharks and was about to be prosecuted for abetting sexual assault. So she committed double suicide with her son. I heard he was just a toddler.”
I pull on the collar of my hoodie with jerky fingers, my breathing so heavy, I’m surprised they don’t hear it. When I speak, I don’t recognize the raw quality of my voice. “Name.”
The guard raises a brow. “What?”
“Name. The dead man’s fucking name.”
A cloud of smoke reaches me first, clogging my already closed throat, before his calm words cut me in half. “Green. Richard Green.”
I drive my fist against the wall so hard, pain and blood explode from my knuckles.
Eli casts a glance at me, brows knitting before his face goes back to a blank slate. “I assume your boss is the one who encouraged those girls to come forward and pulled strings to destroy the Green family?”
“You assume correctly. I don’t know how true those accusations were, but I’m certain that Boss made sure to ruin Richard’s reputation so thoroughly that no one considered him a hero anymore. In fact, people started expressing relief that such vermin had been killed.”
“And that’s all you told Landon?” Eli asks.
“That’s all I know.” He throws his blunt down and steps on it with his shoe. “I’ll be in touch for my money.”
“I suggest you run as far as you can go.” Eli squeezes his shoulder. “Debts will be the least of your worries if your dear boss or his son finds out there’s a traitor in their ranks.”
“You fucking—”
Eli squeezes tighter, then whispers, “You aren’t running.”
The guard glances at the ground, but before he can reach for the gun, Eli picks it up and releases a displeased sound, then points it at him. “No guns on UK soil, remember? But maybe I can change the rules just this once?”
The guard spits at him before he hobbles out of the alley.
I’m only half focused, half conscious about what’s happening around me. Then the pieces of the puzzle start to fit together.
The clearer the image, the bloodier it gets.
The muddier my head turns.
The heavier my breathing becomes.
I pull my fist from the wall—my good one, the one I use to fight with—then slam it against the wall again. Stronger this time so that a splash of blood decorates the dirty surface.
Not enough.
This pain isn’t enough to drown the chaos that’s nearly splitting my brain open. Or the facts that come with it.
Such as Lia and Adrian Volkov being the villains of my childhood.
Annika’s parents are the reason I grew up into this hollow person with no core whatsoever.
I’m on that floor again. My face tight, my lungs burning, and I’m crawling on the hard wood.
Like those worms, I’m struggling, wiggling, biting my lips, fighting. That’s why I loved hunting them. I always liked squashing them.
It was better if they died fast instead of opening their mouths and being strangled further.
Instead of having white foam on the side of their mouths that wouldn’t go away no matter how much they spat. Or gagging on their own vomit.
My heart burns to the point of self-destruction. This must be what happens to machines when they reach the end of their lifetime.
They need to be destroyed.
I punch again, but this time, I meet a softer surface.
“Ow.” Eli uses his hand that he let me punch to shove me back. “Instead of hurting yourself, how about you use this destructive energy to hit someone who actually deserves your wrath?”
And then, like an unconventional older brother, he forbids my self-ruination and drags me to our next hunt.
The subject of the hunt happens to be back at the mansion.
The moment we walk through the front door, we find Landon lounging on a chair, a phone in hand.
“What took you so bloody long? I finished my pending business, paid a visit to a completely drunk Remi, played a game, and was just about to call it a night.” He finally lifts his head. “I figured Eli would make you hasten the process if you confided in him. I must say, I’m wounded, right in the middle of my nonexistent heart. I thought we shared a connection, Cray Cray. Judging by your expression, the cunt spilt it all?”
I storm in his direction, pull him up by the collar of his T-shirt, and punch him with the same hand I nearly broke against the wall.
Landon falls sideways on the chair and his phone clatters to the ground. He smiles as I grab him again, my fingers digging into his skin.
“You saw me with her. You fucking witnessed it all, every single part of it, so why the fuck—” I cut myself off because my voice is too scratchy to be heard. I swallow hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know it was her family for sure until recently. I’m superhuman, but not enough to locate the right guard who’ll sing when his mouth is shoved full of money. I did try to warn you. Not my fault nobody listens to Lan, even when he’s always right.”
I drive my fist into his face again. “You should’ve told me.” Punch. “You chose to use me instead.” Punch. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Blood explodes from his nose and the corner of his lip and he spits it on the carpet, but he doesn’t attempt to fight me. He’s letting me use him as my relief outlet.
“Would it have changed anything?” He grins, revealing blood-stained teeth. “You’re so into that mafia princess that you can’t see straight anymore, Cray Cray. I bet you’re more upset about your relationship with her than about the truth you so earnestly searched for all these years. I must admit, I liked you better when you were an emotionless little heathen.”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll turn you into one of your stones and no one will be the wiser.” Eli comes to my side, glaring down at him. “I’m letting Creigh vent his rage or else he’ll explode, but don’t mistake my tolerance for forgiveness, Lan. I’ll fucking end you for stabbing him in the back. So how about you take his punishment silently, because no matter how hard it gets, it’ll be way more lenient than my outrage.”
Landon flips my brother the middle finger, then smiles at me. “Everything I did was for the greater good, including yours. I know that’s uncommon, but you have my word. I did prepare a peace offering if you’re interested—”
I send him flying with another punch, and he grunts, wiping the corner of his mouth and flexing his jaw. “I’ll take that as a no?”
My steps are sure and determined as I reach for him, haul him up by my grip on his shirt, then hit him again.
And again.
And fucking again.
But no matter how many punches I throw, it isn’t enough to douse the fire inside me. If anything, it’s transforming into a wildfire that’s getting out of control.
“What’s with all the commotion—what the…” Brandon’s voice reaches me first and I can tell he’s coming our way, but Eli grabs him by the nape.
“This isn’t your place.”
“What the actual hell? Lan’s bleeding.”
“Aw. You worried about me? I should’ve asked Creigh to beat me up earlier.” Landon strains to place a hand on his chest. “So touched, I could cry.”
Bran glares at him, but he still tries to escape Eli’s hold. Me, on the other hand? I’m ready to rip my cousin a new one.
In the middle of me punching Lan, who’s still not resisting, and Bran arguing with Eli but still no match to escape him, a fifth presence strolls in.
Remi stares at us with dilated pupils, then blinks slowly. “Not sure what type of freak show—or kink, not shaming—you King men are into, but I have a serious question. Am I too drunk or is there actually a guy tied up in our basement?”
Bran quits struggling against my brother. “A guy is tied up in our basement?”
“Sure as fuck, and if I’m not too drunk, then I’m pretty sure it’s Nikolai Sokolov.”
“That’s the surprise I kept for you, Cray Cray.” Landon grins, all bloodied teeth, lips, and chin. “He’s your path to vengeance. Told you I had everything figured out.”
