1. Drake

January 2022

Parked outside on the corner street of Anderson Holdings, I wait patiently for my intended target to make his move. Tapping my gloved fingers on the steering wheel, I carefully scan my surroundings. It’s one a.m. and the streets of downtown Edinburgh are strangely calm. My eyes snap up toward the windows of the twenty-fourth floor when the lights of the office turn off.

Within less than ten minutes, McCollough Anderson emerges from the front entryway of the building, accompanied by two of his hired private security. There has been talk on the dark web of three new players entering Edinburgh’s crime circuit. Not only is Anderson partners with a man I tried to take down years ago, he also traffics women through said partner’s share of the docks. He is known for having the most recent intel when it may come as a threat to his business.

Tonight’s takedown will serve two-fold.

After slipping on my mask, a black full face mesh balaclava that only shows my eyes, I quietly exit my car, fingering the syringe in my pocket and ensuring it is secure. Satisfied, I grab my Glock from its holster and turn on my heel toward Anderson as he makes his way to his armored SUV.

I stalk behind the three men, grinning and humming to myself. The anticipation of what’s about to transpire is building inside me. The excitement of Anderson getting what he deserves sends chills through my body.

Pausing for a step, I shake my head.

A surprise attack seems too easy. Let’s up the ante. Give them a bit of a head start. I long for a good chase.

Clearing my throat to bring attention to myself, I quickly raise my gun as one man turns around.

His eyes grow wide in realization.

“Well, hello there.” I smirk beneath the mask.

CRACK!

A bullet escapes the barrel of my gun and finds its way between the eyes of the security guard. His body falls limp onto the pavement, and the blood slowly pools at his head.

Anderson turns around at the sound of the gun and runs behind the armored car as his second security guard lunges for me. He attempts to throw a right hook at my left temple, but narrowly misses. I grab his wrist and twist it around, pulling his arm down simultaneously to meet the top of my knee cap as I thrust it upward. The sound of his elbow cracking as it inverts on impact rings through the night air along with his cries of pain.

He doubles over, groaning, cradling his now useless arm, and runs in the direction of his boss.

“Oh no, no, no. No witnesses.” I taunt as I walk toward both men.

I grab the security guard by his shoulder and whip him around to face McCollough, who is now staring at me bug-eyed and overtaken with fear. I wrap my right arm around the base of his neck, squeezing tightly so it begins to cut off his air circulation. Then I place my left hand at the top of his head and, in one swift motion, I crack his cervical spine. Just like the first man, his body falls flaccid in my arms, hanging limp like a puppet with its strings cut. His open eyes frozen in time, wide and fearful. The last emotion he felt before he died.

I smirk to myself. Nothing feels more glorious than avenging the lives of innocent people.

“Your turn,” I snarl, as I throw the lifeless body to the ground and stalk toward Anderson.

“P-Please, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he stammers, holding his hands up. “I-I have more money than you could imagine.”

I chuckle to myself, grabbing him by his coat. “McCollough, I don’t need your money, but you will give me exactly what I want.”

Reaching into my pocket, I grab the syringe and shove it into his neck. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his lids flutter closed. Quickly, I drag his limp body into the back of my SUV and close the liftgate.

I walk around and climb into the driver’s seat, ripping my mask and gloves off. The car roars to life and I make the fifteen minute drive across town, to the outskirts of Edinburgh. What was once home to the abandoned electronics manufacturing plant, Vanguard Industries, that I had closed down thirteen years ago is now home to my favorite persuasion spot.

***

Leaning against the dirty concrete wall, I wait impatiently for Anderson to rouse. The only source of light in the room is from the orange glow of the rusted branding iron being heated up by the small iron furnace. The shape of a dragon at the tip of the iron illuminates a bright orange hue casting a small glow on the wall.

His eyes begin to flutter open, and I see the beautiful fear play across his face as he realizes his fate. He tries to struggle against the cable ties that are tying his hands together and the rope that straps him to the chair, but it’s useless.

I chuckle.

They always try, and they always fail to escape.

“McCollough Anderson. You really give us scary crime lords a bad rep,” I say as I lean forward. “You couldn’t even fight back. You fuckin’ pussy.”

He scoffs, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Threatening the man who has the choice to either kill you quickly, or make your death slow and painful. Not a smart move,” I taunt him as I wiggle my finger in his face.

I grab one of his fingers and bend it at the middle knuckle. The bone cracks and his screams bounce off the tunnel walls.

“Now. You’re going to tell me who these new players are that want to try to overtake Edinburgh.”

“I’m n-not going to tell y-you anything.”

I nod. “Hmm…suit yourself.” Gripping his hand again, I snap three more fingers. His agonizing cries increase in volume as the pain registers in his brain.

“I can do this all night, Anderson.”

“O-Okay. F-Fine. I only know of one n-name.”

Searching his face and knowing the amount of pain he is in, I decide he is telling the truth. I squeeze his hand as a reminder to keep talking.

“Ah! Fuck…It’s Parshikov. Dimitri Parshikov.”

My ears burn at the mention of his name. I’m throttled back to thirteen years ago, and the face of the one who has haunted me for so long flashes through my mind.

Standing up straight, I let go of his hand and grip the back of his head, pulling it back. I shout, “Why has he returned?”

“I-I don’t know. I swear,” he chokes out, his chest heaving as his breaths become labored.

“Wrong fucking answer,” I snarl as I grab the hot iron from its holder.

Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I rip it open. Buttons scatter across the floor. With a forceful growl, I press the iron hard into the middle of his chest.

He lets out another agonizing cry as the smell of burning flesh fills the room.

Pulling it away from his skin, I throw the iron to the side. It clangs to the ground beside us. Reaching into my back pocket to grab my knife, I fling it open. The silver blade glints as the light reflects off of it.

Letting go of his head, I rip my mask off.

His eyes grow wide with recognition. “Y-you’re the…?!”

Before he can finish his sentence, I grab his jaw, chuckling, “Yeah, Anderson, I’m The Dragon and your game is over. Say ‘Hi’ to my father for me, will ya?”

With a loud laugh, I plunge the blade into his neck, severing his carotid artery. The blood sprays across my black shirt as I back away, watching the life leave his body as he slumps over in the chair.

As I begin my usual routine of cleaning up after my hits, her face comes back to the forefront of my mind.

Dimitri is coming back and whatever he has planned, I will stop him this time.

For her.

***

Every year, on the 16th night of January, the anniversary of my father”s death, I sit in the same booth. The same night three hundred and eighty-three innocent souls were taken from this earth. Even after thirteen years, I still struggle with the guilt that I didn’t stop him in time.

Normally at Raven’s, I attempt to blend in with the rest of the thugs that frequent this place, watching and listening for any new activity that may arise in the city. They know me as the CEO of Vanguard Enterprises, the heir to my father’s company. To them, it is the front for the shell company I allow many of them to use to launder their money through. But what they don’t see is that I have been single-handedly protecting Edinburgh under a mask for the last thirteen years, slowly taking out the cancer cells of this city, one by one.

Tonight, just like every year, I force myself to remember the horror of that night, every scream and cry as people lay dying in the streets.

Sitting in this dark corner booth, shifting at the uncomfortable memories, I realize just how stiff my body is from the night before. My muscles feel tight and heavy as I remember the look on Anderson and his men’s faces as I killed them.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

Lost in thought and looking down at the smoking cigar nestled between my two fingers, I mindlessly twirl the delicate, empty crystal glass against the black marbled bar top. The purple and blue lights of the club glisten off the thick silver banded ring I wear on my middle finger. The signet is a fire-breathing dragon. A reminder of the monster I came from, and the monster I will always be. No one can do what I do every night and not be consumed with the darkness that comes with the territory.

A faint hint of floral and citrus invades my senses as one of the cocktail waitresses stops at my table.

She must be new. No one ever approaches me unless I motion them over.

When my eyes meet hers, my heart feels like it is being ripped out of my chest and cracked wide open. The universe must be laughing at me, to present her on this night of all nights.

“Do you need something?” The words rumble through me like an angry growl as I gaze up at her through hooded eyes, grasping the glass in front of me.

“Hey, don’t take my job away. That’s supposed to be my line.”

Her green eyes sparkle at me like emerald gems, but underneath that sparkle is the faintest hint of sadness, loneliness. I could never forget those eyes, not in a million years or in a million lifetimes.

My eyes rake over her body for a moment. Taking in her curves, her red lips curving up into a soft grin, and her dark, black hair falling in waves over her shoulders.

She’s dressed in the usual Raven’s attire: a black crop top that leaves very little to anyone’s imagination, black high-waisted shorts and black fishnet stockings with combat boots.

“This must be your first night here.”

Plopping down in the booth across from me, she clasps her hands in front of her.

“Actually, it is, which tells me a lot about you that you noticed. You must come here often, and no, that was not a pick up line.”

She pauses for a beat. “I got dared to come over as part of some new employee hazing bullshit. And they…” she nods to a waitress at the bar smirking in our direction, “said you have a reputation around here for being some huge asshole.”

When all I do is chuckle, she continues.

“I don’t turn down a dare and you don’t scare me. No one does.” She boldly declares as she crosses her arms across her chest.

Taking a long drag of my cigar, I blow smoke rings into the air, gazing at her. She’s brave. I supposed she would have to be given how she’s grown up.

“You should be.”

“Should be what?” She pries knowingly.

I can tell she is trying to get a rise out of me, and it’s fucking working. If she only knew, she was picking the wrong night to piss me off.

“Scared of me.” I glare at her before continuing, “CiCi. Or do people call you Cecilia?”

Her eyes grow wide at the mention of her nickname before she settles. Looking down at her name tag, she laughs, “Good one, you almost had me. Of course, you’d figure out my nickname based on my tag.”

Growing irritated at the unexpected visitor who seamlessly just knocked the breath out of my lungs by merely appearing, I raise my voice over the sensual music billowing out of the speakers. “Are you done here? Did you win your little bet? Or do I need to escort you away from my table myself?”

Rising from the booth, she leans against the table. “Your hands will never touch me, asshole.”

Lunging over, I grab her hand firmly in mine. My hand easily swallows her much smaller fist. “Believe me, princess. If I wanted to touch you, I could.”

Pulling her hand away from my grasp, she turns on her heels, leaving me seething. A few onlookers stare in my direction as she walks off.

I curse to myself.

I try to stay away from unwanted attention, especially when I’m leading a double life.