LEROI
The doorbell rings and rings, but the deafening pounding of my pulse muffles the sound. My breaths are so shallow that oxygen stops reaching my lungs. My throat thickens as I stare down at Anton’s unmoving form.
I linger on his lifeless eyes, my chest constricting with an overwhelming sense of grief and regret.
Grief for the man who saved me from death row and taught me everything he knew about the art of killing. Regret because if he hadn’t reached for his gun, I could have waited until he fell unconscious and offered him up to Seraphine as a gift.
I pause, waiting for something else to rise to the surface, but there’s nothing more for Anton. Everything I have left is devoted to protecting Seraphine. There’s no guilt for the murder of my mentor, but some of the unease I felt about not being able to save Seraphine from her past fades into a sense of satisfaction.
Until now, I hadn’t realized how desperately I’d wanted to participate in the revenge killings. Seraphine is no longer his Lolita. She’s mine. My perfect angel.
Since presenting Anton for execution is no longer an option, I’ll have to do the next best thing.
I kneel beside his corpse, my jaw tightening at the warm blood seeping through the fabric of my sweatpants. After a quick search of his vest pockets, I extract Anton’s phone from the inside pocket and hold it over his face to unlock the device.
Even if he claimed not to know about the liver transplants, he was still one of the bastards who let Seraphine believe Gabriel’s life hung in the balance. I’m hoping Anton knows Gabriel or Evangeline’s addresses.
I navigate through his contacts, finding phone numbers for both Samson and Evangeline. Miko’s distinctive ringtone blares out from my phone and tells the AI assistant to pick up the call.
“I’m busy. Is this urgent?”
Whatever Miko says barely registers. Something about Seraphine disobeying my orders and going upstairs. I order the AI to hang up. If he has Seraphine, then I can put thoughts of her safety aside while I clean up this kill. Anton deserves a burial to make up for what I’m about to do to his body.
He taught me how to keep a cool head in high-pressure situations, and how to move a body without leaving evidence. I’ll honor his memory by doing just that.
Stepping around the expanding pool of blood, I walk out of the kitchen and open the armory, where I extract a bag of cat litter and a bone saw.
Guilt punches me in the chest as I sprinkle cat litter over the blood. I didn’t offer any to Seraphine when she killed Billy Blue. Instead, I made her clean it up, just like Anton taught me with sponges and a bowl.
Back then, if I hadn’t been so concerned about the state of my apartment, I would have realized Seraphine had lashed out like that because she was traumatized.
Once the cat litter has absorbed most of the blood, I roll Anton’s body onto a tarp and saw through his neck. The blade grinds against bone and cartilage with a sound that sends shivers down my spine. My mind festers with the intrusive thought that I’m not cleaning up any old target—this is Anton.
Anton, who clothed and fed me when my family cast me out because I couldn’t stand watching them get abused. Anton, who understood that I killed out of the need to protect. He was the only father figure I had since mine died and Mother moved us away from Uncle Enzo.
Fuck.
If Uncle Enzo hadn’t been a disgusting predator, Seraphine would never have gotten close enough to kill him and Roman might never have spent the past five years on death row.
When Anton’s head falls loose from his body, I line a bowl with ice and place it inside, then I make quick work of removing his hands, which I add to the bowl before storing the lot in the refrigerator.
I saw the rest of his body into transportable pieces, and stuff them in black trash bags before moving them into a suitcase. Once all traces of his corpse are dealt with, I pour a bleach solution on the floor and head for the shower.
The hot spray washes away the blood but does nothing to ease the mounting dread about how I plan on explaining this to Seraphine. I’ll have to confess my relationship with Anton. Once we’ve found Gabriel and dealt with Samson, she’ll be in a better state of mind and I’ll tell her why I never spoke up when she mentioned his name.
Maybe presenting her with his severed head will ease the blow?
Perhaps.
I work strawberry-scented shampoo into my hair and build up a thick lather. That’s what I’ll do. Hand her Gabriel, Samson, and Anton’s heads all at once. She’ll be so pleased that she’ll overlook my past mistakes.
A laugh bursts from my chest.
If someone had told me I would simp for a tiny blonde, I’d ask what they were smoking. I only ever noticed tall brunettes, which was probably my mistake. Instead of the darkness of their hair, what I should have been looking for was the darkness in their souls.
Seraphine is my perfect match in every way imaginable. She doesn’t flinch at the thought that I’m a killer, and she’s the only woman I know who keeps me on my toes. I love her unpredictable temperament and her capacity for violence, which outstrips my own.
Now that I have found her, I can’t ever give her a reason to leave.
The doorbell rings, interrupting my musings. I rinse the shampoo from my hair, turn off the water, and wrap a towel around my waist.
Seraphine probably got tired of waiting around with Miko and now she wants to come inside. I walk out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and out into the living room that smells of bleach. At least the kitchen door is closed and the case containing Anton’s remains is hidden from view.
The bell rings again, and I hesitate. If she’s with Miko, then he would have taught her the special knock.
I walk to the wall, out of the door’s line of sight, and into the kitchen. Stepping over kitchen tiles still wet with bleach solution, I pick up the gun.
“Who’s there?” I say from the kitchen door.
When bullets pierce through the door, I dive to the ground.
Thank fuck I didn’t drop my guard and answer the ring. It was only a matter of time before this place was found by Samson’s second team of assassins.
