Chapter 19

Leaning against my bike, I take in the sight of the bustling carnival as I smoke a cigarette. While being hidden out of sight, I watch Soul in the far distance trying to engage with Limp Dick, who's busy working a stall. The urge to murder him in the most inhumane way imaginable gnaws at me, but I'll give Dolly the small opportunity to get rid of his ass before I step in. Still, a little push isn't going to hurt.

As Soul strides toward me, I drop my cigarette onto the ground, stamping it out with my heavy boot. He leans up against my bike, lifting his chin in Limp Dick's direction. "Nah, I don't think he's into it," Soul says.

My teeth grind as I stare at Limp Dick from a distance, watching him serve a customer. "There's something up with him though. I can sense it. I don't fucking like him," Soul continues. "I will find out for you, bro, don't worry."

I inhale deeply, knowing I feel the same way about this cunt. "Well, he should be gone soon. If not, I'll just fucking kill him."

A regular strolls by on his own and I whistle, "Hey!" I yell quietly. He stops, raising his chin in acknowledgment and I make a head gesture for him to come over. When he steps forward and stops in front of me, I glance behind him to make sure Limp Dick isn't watching. Seeing he's still busy working, I look at the guy. "Wanna make a quick fifty bucks?"

His eyes light up before narrowing in suspicion. "What do I have to do?" I reach inside my leather jacket, pulling out a small bag of heroin and a couple of needles.

I nod towards the visitor. "Hold out your hand."

He hesitates but does, his hand shaking slightly as I slap the drugs into his palm. "Pretend you're going to sell this shit over by that stall," I say, gesturing toward where Limp Dick is stationed. "Soul will come over and hit you for dealing on our grounds."

The guy's eyes widen as he looks from me to Soul, who stands beside me with a dark chuckle. "Don't worry, I won't hit you too hard," Soul reassures, slapping his hand down on the guy's shoulder a couple of times.

The visitor ponders for a few seconds, glancing nervously between us and I reach into my jeans, flicking out fifty bucks, holding it out to him. "Here."

He takes a deep breath before reluctantly taking the money and turning around. As he walks toward Limp Dick, I keep a close watch on him and Soul nudges me in the arm, and I side-eye him.

"What are you up to?" he asks, a devilish grin spreading across his lips.

"When you hit that guy, pick him up and escort him out," I respond. "But before you do, give Limp Dick the smack and tell him to take it to Madame."

He snickers, pushing himself away from the bike. "Got it."

Soul moves in, his pace steady and the moment he reaches them, he swings a hard punch that lands squarely on the guy's jaw. The guy stumbles before Soul grabs him by the collar, stopping him from hitting the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing selling this shit here?" Soul growls, his voice loud enough to draw attention. He reaches into the visitor's hand, yanking the heroin and needles out, then shoves them toward Limp Dick.

"Take this shit to Madame," he orders.

Limp Dick looks confused but takes the drugs, his eyes flicking between Soul and the visitor.

"Erm, okay," he stammers.

I turn around, facing the other way, and peer behind my hood as he gazes down at his newfound treasure. He glances around, eyes darting to see if anyone is watching and when he's satisfied that no one is paying attention, he sneakily shoves it into his pocket. Stupid fucking cunt.

I can feel the tension in his shoulders from here. He's nervous, but the pull of his habit is far too strong for him to resist. He doesn't realize he's walking into a fucking trap, and that ignorance is going to cost him tonight. I have horrifying plans for my Little Dolly.

I watch as he hops over the counter and blends into the crowd until he is no longer in sight and I inhale strongly, turning around to face the carnival again. Tonight, the vibrant colors and screams of terror are merely a facade for the darkness that will soon unfold on Dark Night, and I think about how I will finally have my dick deep inside Noir. Claiming every inch of her and destroying her for any other man but me.

Suddenly, her familiar scent wafts close, and I sniff the air before looking to my left. I spot her right away, walking beside Blush, a slight wobble in her posture.

She's fucking drunk.

I observe closely, and when she is passing me, she makes brief eye contact, a small smile playing on her rosy lips before continuing ahead, entering the carnival.

A low growl escapes my throat as I stare at her perfect, round ass in those tight black jeans, imagining how her soft cheeks will bounce against my hips while I fuck her from behind. Her blonde hair swings just above it, springing in the same rhythm as her footsteps. She looks back a couple of times, knowing I am watching her intensely, and she loves the fucking thrill of it.

I flick the cigarette butt away, my eyes locked on her every move and as she laughs at something Blush says, she throws her head back, the sound carefree. It's the total opposite to the dark, brooding thoughts in my sick mind, but that's what makes it all so much more arousing. She doesn't know what the fuck is coming. She doesn't know how tightly I'm weaving her into my world and how badly I am going to fuck her up on Dark Night while enjoying every fucking second of it.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I dig for it before glancing down, noticing his name flashing across the screen. I snarl, knowing I haven't heard from him in weeks, but I answer and press the phone to my ear, waiting silently to hear his deep, gruff voice.

"We think we have a sighting of her," he says casually.

I stand straight, my attention buzzing, and I turn around, my eyes scanning the crowd. "Where? I can go there now," I say, agitated to get my hands on her.

"I think we should wait until it's confirmed," he retorts, and I growl in frustration. "Don't worry, you'll get your fair share of her, but you know to bring her to me, right?"

I draw another cig out of my pocket and place it between my lips. "I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself once I get my hands on her," I answer truthfully, my words muffled by the cigarette.

"That wasn't the deal, Hell. I find her, and you go get her, so stick to the fucking plan." With that, he hangs up, leaving me reeling.

I take a long drag from my cigarette, the smoke curling around my face as memories of Haze flood my mind. His brutal murder still haunts me. I remember the call that changed everything and the horrifying sight that followed. Even for me, it was fucking gruesome. His throat was sliced with a machete in the kitchen, his cock and balls stuffed down his throat. It was a savage act of hatred—typical of a woman's way of killing, but I still don't have answers. Maybe he crossed the wrong woman. Who knows? All I know is he was fucking family.

Haze didn't live here; he moved between this place and his home state, usually working here during the summer for about six weeks. We were close—practically brothers and he was a lot like me; we had a lot of fun together. His death left a void, and apart from my uncle, I was alone again, family wise.

Before my mom died of cancer, she finally told me my father's name, but I was placed in foster care for six months while they searched for my other family. They found an uncle, my father's brother, but he refused to take me in at first. Eventually, he agreed but with a catch—I had to join the Shadow's Society. At the time I was desperate to escape the foster system as a kid, so I agreed, not realizing the darkness I was walking into. I thought I'd be a soldier or a fucking drug dealer, not a hired killer.

The training was brutal. Abuse, torture, and sexual assaults were routine, meant to break us and rebuild us as insane, ruthless killers. Once you were in, there was no way of getting out and we were conditioned to accept this twisted life as normal. I have two more years until a retrial, where the Shadow's will decide if I've contributed enough to their corrupt system to earn a normal life. But what the fuck is normal now? I've been so deeply warped that the idea of a decent, normal life feels impossible. My brain is fried, my soul twisted. This is my normal now. The dust of my old life with my mom is just that—dust, shadows of a past that no longer exists.