Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Líadan

Three years later

C rossing the streets of Chicago, as I walk to the local farmers market, is a luxury I never thought I'd ever get to do. It's funny for a serial killer to be excited to be able to just stroll through the city, but I am. Well, as excited as I can get, anyway.

I show anger, hatred, and mild forms of happiness to the outside world. Even Brendan, my best friend and lover, doesn't experience much more than this unless you include my snarky attitude.

I'm walking without a guard or goon following me these days, but my father is still watching my movements on every camera in the city he possibly can.

A little girl surprises me as she crosses in front of me, forcing me to stop quickly in my tracks. My eyes widen as she almost falls before righting herself. She appears to be about ten, and I look around for a parent.

When I don't see one, I shake my head, because it's unfortunately normal to see packs of kids living on the street.

"Sorry," she mutters before she runs to meet up with an older boy. He meets my gaze before hurrying away, finding a predator scarier than him.

Hmm, I've always found it interesting how intuitive kids are. Deciding not to scare children unnecessarily, I smirk at them as I continue walking into the park.

I live for Saturdays in Chicago, especially in mid-October. The weather is beautiful, people are in good spirits, and it's a bit more acceptable for my scary side to come out.

Daddy decided a year ago that he needed to be able to keep a closer eye on the family and his enemies. While they're no longer plotting to assassinate him or planning human trafficking auctions without his permission, he didn't stay alive this long without being a paranoid fuck.

Respectfully, of course.

I have no reason to sneak around, so I won't. I'm on a mission to pick up a dozen apple cider donuts, flowers, and maybe a new scarf. Daddy knows I'm not his innocent daughter anymore.

Pushing me too far when I'm his Banshee, the literal bringer of death to those who fuck with him, means his weapon can just as easily be used to take him out as well.

My soul needs blood to run, my fingers itch for a weapon, and Daddy feeds that need with the tasks he gives me. It's how I fill my days now with Brendan at my side. Sometimes he helps me, other times I lose myself in my fucked up rituals.

No one knows I'm Daddy's tool, the one who punishes his enemies or those who fuck up in the family. I wear a mask when I'm in my torture room regardless of whether they are going to live or die, and don't remove it until I'm driving home.

I'm careful in every aspect. I've been living in a quiet townhouse with Brendan for the last three months, though Daddy knows I'll pick up and go wherever he needs. It just made more sense, because the mansion isn't near any of his warehouses, but most importantly, it gives me something I've never had.

A bit of freedom. It's new, but it's something. One day, I plan to rule over the O'Brien clan, and the blood will run while I change things.

Smiling to myself over my fucked up thoughts, I know people are seeing a woman who is five-foot-eight, with long raven-black hair that curls down my back, and green eyes. My makeup is done lightly, my brown double breasted coat is well tailored and open, showing off my black leather skirt and long-sleeved crimson sweater. Daddy doesn't care what I wear now that I'm no longer a virgin.

In his mind, he's cashed in on the value of my innocence, so as long as I don't embarrass him, I'm able to live on my own. Even if it means living with Brendan.

Forcing myself to take a breath to calm the racing of my heart as I remember the night that ended and started it all, I toss my hair over my shoulder to make a beeline for the hot chocolate a vendor boasts.

There's nothing better on a cold day than a warm drink. It helps that it usually manages to bat away any lingering anxiety and sad thoughts when they creep up on me.

Drink firmly in hand, I walk through the market to see if there's anything else that catches my eye. A fall candle, gorgeous flowers, and a slice of chocolate cake for Brendan all find their way into my oversized canvas shopping bag, as I move through the park filled with vendors. I feel calmer as I window shop, which is why Brendan shooed me out the door today.

It's shark week in our home, and I currently have cravings for sugar-filled food and drinks. Brendan is doing some research for Daddy that involves knives, a power drill, and a clean up crew for afterwards.

This is a job I'm not invited to because my control isn't great when my uterus is trying its best to unalive me. I need to be directed at jobs where the point of my being there is to cause grown men to piss themselves before I kill them brutally.

There's a very large difference between the two.

I'm lost in my head as I focus on the soft, sweet treats waiting for me on the other side of the market. I always make it my last stop, because if I don't, I'll end up needing to order more because I have no fucking self control around these donuts.

Thank God they're seasonal?—

"Oof," I grunt as I run into a hard chest, holding my hand out to the side as a reflex, so I won't cover us in the rest of my chocolate drink. A male's hands steady me on my heeled boots, making me stifle a shiver.

I don't really like to have people touch me. Brendan is the only one who gets a pass, ever. My heartbeat is loud in my ears as I swallow hard and force myself to say something, anything. I can practically hear the amusement coming from the man before me.

"I didn't mean to run into you," I state, taking a step back, breathing deeply. The taller man holds on for a moment longer than proper before releasing me. The man in front of me is wearing a dark-blue suit, his white shirt slightly open, and I can see a bit of ink peeking out of the conservative attire along his hands.

He has short, blond hair with a bit of white at his temples as an older man, but there's a commanding presence to him.

He almost feels as if he'd be a safe person for the people he loves.

"It's perfectly fine," he says with a smile. His teeth are straight, and his hazel eyes sparkle a bit with humor only he can see. "You clearly have somewhere to be. Is someone waiting for you?"

"Ah, no," I state, a bit embarrassed. It's a feeling I rarely feel, but there's something about this guy. I can see he's just a kind man in his forties, someone completely removed from the danger and darkness of my life. Sometimes, it's nice to have a conversation with a normal person.

"Care to tell me why I was almost showered in… ah, hot chocolate?" he asks, turning to grab a napkin for my hand.

"You don't really need to do that," I say, biting my lip as he begins to clean my hand.

"Pah," he grunts. "Sticky hands suck. Now, is where you're going a secret?"

His teasing tone makes my lips twitch and I shake my head as he throws away the napkin mess.

"Have you ever been to this market before?" I ask instead of answering. I can usually spot a Chicagoan pretty easily, but he doesn't appear to be local. He's too easy going while still making it very apparent that he's in control.

I bet he's someone important in a company. I typically hate people, but I did run into him, so it's my fault. This man could have easily yelled at me.

"No, actually, I've never been here before. I'm a tour manager and the band is playing here in the city. My niece is craving something sweet, so I came to the market in search of a treat," he says with a wry grin. "Lenny is a fucking beast when she's pregnant."

I nod as if I understand, but I don't. I had complications after the multiple rapes committed the night I turned seventeen, and Brendan rushed me to the hospital when I woke up feverish and listless two days after it happened.

The surgeries are kind of a blur, but in the end they managed to get rid of the infection and save my life. Unfortunately, I now have painful menstrual cycles and a significantly lower rate of ever getting pregnant.

I probably would have been a shit mother, anyway.

"I recommend the apple cider donuts," I say, swallowing hard. "They're my favorite. I know something about taming beasts, and it always does the trick."

Oh my God, who am I?

"Was that where you were off to?" he asks. "Care to escort me over? I'd hate to miss it or run into someone else."

A weak huff of a laugh escapes as I nod. My hand is a little sticky, but I'll survive until I get back home to wash it off. Tossing my cup in the trash, I show the man to the donut vendor. A deep inhale of the sweet treat makes me sigh happily. I'm so excited.

This is my life. I'm not complicated. Donuts and blood make me happy. Go figure.

"These are the best donuts in the city, in my opinion," I explain as we stand in line. "The baker, Suzy, is so nice. She doesn't even shame me when she knows the box of donuts won't last the walk home."

The man next to me snorts in amusement, shaking his head. "Will she judge me if I ask for three dozen, you think? Her husbands will whine if I don't bring them any back too."

Husbands?!

Blinking as I swallow back all the questions I have, I shrug. "I don't think she'll mind at all," I rasp.

The man next to me smirks as if knowing I'm biting my tongue. It's none of my business, so I won't ask for more information.

"Mind what, Líadan?" Suzy asks as we step forward to the booth. I have no doubt that she's been watching us closely. I've been coming here for the last month as often as possible, and I think Suzy is a bit protective of me.

Here, I'm just a girl who is shopping, and not the O'Brien Banshee. I'm not Seán's daughter, or the secret heir to his organization either. It's so nice to just be me without all the tethers of responsibility.

"This gentleman here?—"

The man in question interrupts as if realizing he hasn't introduced himself. "I'm Jordan. Líadan here says your donuts are my best bet for my niece's pregnancy cravings. She said she wanted something sweet, but gave me no other direction."

Suzy laughs as she continues to make donuts fresh for us in the fryer. Her husband keeps an eye on them before he pulls them out. They're a well-oiled machine. Watching them makes me believe love that isn't twisted exists.

Brendan adores me, kills for me, and loves me fiercely. He's obsessed with my very breath, but I know that can't be normal. Right?

"I'll send you home with a few dozen for her and her husband," Suzy says with a smile as she works.

"Husbands," I say, amused and without judgment.

"Ha! Husbands, well then you may need a bit more then," Suzy says with a large grin. I love how carefree her laughter is.

I've never been that free. Not ever.

"I'll take a dozen, please, Suzy," I tell her with a smile.

Nodding, Suzy frowns when she glances at my hand. Grabbing a pre-packaged wet wipe, she slides it across the table toward me.

"What happened to your hand?" she asks as she begins to ring me up.

Opening the packet, I shrug as I pull out the wet wipe and begin to clean my hand. It's kind of a relief not to have my palm crusted with sticky chocolate anymore.

"I ran into Jordan and spilled my hot chocolate," I explain. "It wasn't very warm, and I was almost done."

Suzy's green eyes would kill anyone with the spark of anger I see. "Good," she murmurs as she rings up Jordan as well. I have to say Suzy reminds me of a mom as she stares us down.

I haven't had a mother in so long, it amuses me to watch her fuss over me.

"Enjoy your donuts, and Jordan, I hope you pay attention to where you're going," Suzy says drolly.

Pressing my lips together to hold back the smile that's threatening to take over, I thank her as I take my box of donuts. They smell so good, I swear my eyelashes flutter in ecstasy.

Stepping away with me, Jordan says softly, "She is one scary and protective woman."

"Suzy is the best," I agree as I pop open my box and carefully take out a donut. Making sure it's properly shut, I slide the box into my shopping bag before I take a bite.

"Fuck, they're good."

Jordan raises a brow as he sneaks out a treat carefully and takes a bite. "Why did you do this to me, Líadan," he groans. "Nothing else will ever compare to this."

Bubbles of something fill me as I hide the smile I want to give him behind my donut. I'm enjoying this entirely too much, and I can't get over the way my core tightens when he says my name.

Typically? I hate all men except Brendan. The only good man is a dead one.

"Everyone should experience Suzy's donuts at least once," I say unrepentantly. "You're welcome."

"Alright, brat," he grunts, polishing off his donut. "Thank you for turning my life upside down on this otherwise innocent Saturday afternoon. I'm off to feed the heathens."

"I'm sure they'll accept your offering," I tease him as we leave the park together. "If not, tossing them the donuts and running typically works."

"That works for animals, not… Wait, you're right," he mutters. "Lenny is fucking scary when she's pregnant."

"Is she the one on tour?" I ask before I can remind myself it's none of my business. Curiosity killed the cat… I should know.

"She is," he says with a grin. "Lenny insists singing on tour keeps her mind off how uncomfortable she gets. The band's name is The Darkest Nights if you ever want to look them up. Bye, Líadan."

Biting my lip, I nod as I force myself to release it and say goodbye as I turn right to walk home. That conversation is probably one of the longest ones that I've ever had when I'm not torturing someone.

Even then, it's through a voice changer that makes grown men shit themselves, and they're mostly screaming.

It would be nice to be more normal, but that's not in the cards for me.

Later, when Daddy calls me in to do a job for him, I find myself turning my music streaming app to The Darkest Nights to clean up my mess. The songs are soulful, distracting me from the blood on the tile as I rinse it with bleach and water.

It makes me wonder what kind of pain she's experienced, because the suffering I can hear in every note makes it clear she's been through some shit.

Somehow, it helps as I lock up the room for the night to know there's someone else who's had their world ripped away from them the way I did. Except, she's found a way to move on and my way is filled with death.

As always, I'm wearing my creepy white and black demonic mask I custom ordered from a store as I always do as I walk through the warehouse. The eye portion is blacked out, though I can see through it, and there are adorable little horns at the top of it.

My black hair is braided against my head underneath the mask so no one can tell what color it is, or if I'm a man or woman, and I always wear a long-sleeved shirt and pants with combat boots when I come in.

The voice box is taped against my throat to change my voice as well, making my naturally husky voice more like an inhuman scream.

I come by my name honestly, after all. As the bringer of death, I scare the shit out of the men who watch me leave the building. My boots are almost silent as I walk, my leather work gloves keeping my fingerprints off everything.

There's nothing that will give me away as Líadan O'Brien. Even my SUV's plates are regularly changed, and the vehicle was bought under Daddy's name.

My home was bought under a fake umbrella corporation, and I don't have a single thumbprint on file anywhere. I'm hiding in plain sight essentially. The family hasn't seen me since the night certain members destroyed me on my seventeenth birthday.

Even then, none of them can speak about that night without the fear of having the Banshee pull them from their beds.

It's ironic, really. They created the monster that goes bump in the night. I became the bigger villain than they are to survive.