1. Loren

1

LOREN

"What you're saying is I should have killed him last summer," I clarify.

Myro studies me. Behind him on the big screen is the picture of Daniel Rollins-Alabaster, a man who has gone by many names and left a long trail behind him. Not one of broken hearts, but one of emotional manipulation, verbal and mental abuse, and men who often dropped out of school because of the state this man left them in.

I'd flown out to California last summer when my friend Noah mentioned him to me. It still makes me smile that he did. His awkwardness was really kind of cute. I tried so hard not to smile when he was telling me about this guy over the phone.

It took me some time to find him, since the name we initially had was a lie. I hadn't been sure if he'd been excellent about covering his trail or if I just hadn't gotten an accurate read on him right away. But once I tracked this asshole down, we had words. He landed in the hospital.

"He's been quiet for some time," Myro says. "But he's recently moved to Tucson close to Eastern State University, where he's once more looking for his next victim."

Myro goes on to tell me what Imry has found in detail—complete with pictures, call logs, and his new identities. Yes, plural. I stare, not because I'm entirely interested in what he's saying. Not even because I'm not interested in what he's saying. I'm just irritated because I wanted to kill him six months ago and Myro talked me out of it.

Imry is sitting across from me. I know it's Imry because of the way he's trying not to smirk. Also, he'd been the one to help me track down Daniel last summer. It was already his assignment and when I don't kill my target, he makes a habit of keeping tabs on them.

Just in case.

In case of situations like this where my target hasn't smartened the fuck up. I'm confident he'll stay away from Roux Kipler, but that he's still preying on more men is unacceptable.

The only other person in the conference room is our father. Even though he is the president of Van Doren Technologies, he almost exclusively works remotely from our home. And while all us kids might be well into adulthood, I think we enjoy each other's company and it's comfortable.

Besides, we're well spread out on the big Van Doren estate. For instance, this conference room is in our lab—a completely separate building from our living and playing quarters.

I look at Myro again when he appears to have concluded his briefing. He's waiting expectantly as he watches me.

"That's a lot of words to confirm that I should have killed him last summer," I say.

Imry raises his hand to cover his mouth and looks away. At the other end of the table, our father smirks but doesn't say anything.

Myro sighs. Placing his hands on the table, he leans forward toward me. "I know you feel zero remorse, which makes you a very good killer, Loren. But sometimes I think you kill too easily. I was trying to… I don't know, prevent you from turning into a cold-blooded murderer."

"That's what I am," I say. "That's my job. And yours."

"Yes, and that's why I give you the jobs that don't sit well with me because I do feel remorse and I rather like sleeping at night."

"I don't have that issue," I tell him.

"Yes, I know. And maybe I should have let you deal with it on your own, in your own way because I know despite your inability to sympathize, you do think things through. I was putting my personal concerns on you and I shouldn't have," Myro admitted.

"That's very grown up of you, Myro," I say.

He huffs, standing upright. His hand ruffles my hair and I smirk.

"Always protecting us," Imry says quietly.

"Yes," Myro agrees. "Even when I don't need to." He looks at me again. "This is back in your hands. Deal with him however you'd like to, preferably before he causes too much more damage."

I nod just as the door opens and the rest of our brothers join us. Voss drops into a chair beside me with his computer, setting it on the shiny surface of the table. The remaining two-thirds of the triplets take chairs next to Imry, rolling them close until the armrests are against each other.

"Why are you always starting meetings without us?" Avory asks.

"You only missed Myro telling me I should have killed one of my previous targets instead of landing him in the hospital," I inform them.

"Which?" Avory asks.

"There haven't been that many," Ellory says. "He's a perfect killer."

"This is what I wanted to prevent," Myro insists.

"Why?" the triplets ask in unison.

Voss looks up when they speak as one and grins. As does our father, while Myro chuckles.

"As we've just established, I'm always trying to protect my baby brothers," Myro answers. "Loren will take care of Alabaster and now we'll move on."

"Where is he?" Avory asks.

"Conveniently, he's moved to Arizona. Not quite so convenient, he's about four hours south," Imry says. "We'll head down later today." His gaze meets mine and I nod, entirely unsurprised that he's joining me.

I listen to them for a while as they talk about the projects that they're working on. Van Doren Technologies is a very large umbrella company that has a lot of tentacles in nearly every industry around the world. Name it and it's likely that, if nothing else, we hold substantial stock in it.

Most of what we do is completely legal. Those are the things the world sees. Everyone knows our father's face as the kingpin, mob boss, mafia king—all of the above—of Van Doren. He has truly revolutionized the company since taking it over from his father twenty years ago.

But every big company has a darker underbelly that the pretty lights and big bank accounts are protecting. Van Doren has several. Myro and I are part of clean-up. We take out the trash through contracts. Most of the time, this means we're just causing accidents for our targets to die. There are times when we have to take matters into our own hands and kill them outright.

Some people just have all the luck and somehow miss the accidents.

I don't do it for the money. I don't have some hero complex and think I'm cleaning up the streets of those who slip through the law's fingers. There's no sense of doing good for me.

Quite frankly, I kill people because I enjoy it. Watching their life drain from their bodies and knowing that I did that? It's a very satisfying feeling.

Myro does it for the ‘right' reasons. Which is why when we get a contract that makes him uneasy, he gives it to me. My sense of right and wrong is slightly skewed, according to studies of people like me.

Voss doesn't kill. He's a computer genius, and there's not a damn thing he can't do online. He works for the tech side of Van Doren, but his contributions to the dark underbelly are leaking the scandals of assholes so they receive some comeuppance and covering Van Doren's tracks. Rather unironically, his handle is always some form of ‘karma.'

Then there are the triplets who work for the law offices of Van Doren. While Voss can find anything online that there is to find, the triplets can find everything that's not online.

There are other shadows that Van Doren hides. Dad likes to say that we're doing good work. The things that can't be done legally but should be. In a broken world, someone needs to fix all the cracks or everything will just fall apart.

One of the most common debates growing up was whether we should let it all fall apart or not, meaning the government, the police, the law. All the crooked shit that's going on. He likes to say that we're picking up the pieces they can't legally take care of.

But we're all aware of how broken our political system is. And it's not just the political system—there's the school system, big pharma companies and the entire health care system, plus the way organized religion still holds sway where it shouldn't.

Most of the time, I just listen and absorb. My answer is almost always, let's start over. Myro says my first kill was a really bad idea because now I have a taste for it, and I think it's the answer to everything.

I suppose I understand his point. I'm of the opinion that we need to get rid of all the old, white men in office— all offices. Not just in the government, but also school boards, medical boards, etc. Everywhere. And start over.

There's been this habit in human history where some people get rich from the labor and suffering of others. I don't need a conscience to know that it's wrong. It's just that my way of fixing it is apparently unappetizing.

"Loren."

I look up from admiring the way the lights reflect off the shiny surface of the table. Myro's shaking his head. "It didn't concern me," I say, shrugging.

"How do you know that?" he asks, crossing his arms.

We all know I'm right. I have an eerie knack for tuning in when something does concern me, and we all know that.

Once again, Imry is trying to hide his amusement.

"I'm considering ways to kill Alabaster," I offer.

The way Myro studies me, I can tell he's trying to determine if I'm lying. I know for a fact that it's nearly impossible for most people because I don't have any of the usual tells. That's not how I'm built.

He sighs. "Be careful."

I nod and look around the table. Are we dismissed?

Dad is watching me, too. He's in business mode right now, though. Very laid back and listening. Like me, he's absorbing. He's leaning back in his chair, one of his arms on the armrest and his hand under his chin as he thoughtfully studies me.

While I don't get sentimental over anything, I often acknowledge how lucky I am to have been born into this family. All things considered, I think we had a pretty good childhood because of our dad. Especially when he finally took us away from Mom.

My gaze touches on two-thirds of the triplets. As if they know what I'm thinking, their eyes flicker to mine and I receive small matching smiles. Just hints. As if we share a secret.

Nothing was ever a secret, though. The day Dad came home to find Myro, Voss, and Imry protecting me, Avory, and Ellory from Mom yelling at us— again —for me being a sociopath and our brothers not being appropriate, Dad finally had enough. He forced Mom to leave and then moved us all to Arizona.

Thankfully, Dad had the foresight not to let Mom know anything about the true workings of Van Doren. He also had her sign a prenup so… too bad for her. You shouldn't just love and approve of three of your six kids. No matter how many times Dad told her that she needed to love us all equally, some of us just didn't fit into what she considered acceptable human beings.

Me because she wanted me to be something I'm not. Mom insisted I pretend to be like everyone else. Studies say that my particular antisocial disorder means I can blend seamlessly into society if I choose. To her, that was the only option I had.

Dad and my older brothers disagreed. Dad said my only obligation was to be whatever version of myself that I was proud of. That I was comfortable with.

Avory and Ellory, well? Mom also doesn't believe that you should be able to love who you want to love. Apparently, there are lines you aren't supposed to cross with certain types of love.

It all seems rather nitpicky to me, but I guess my idea of love is different from what many people think. Noah once told me we can define what love is for ourselves. Everyone is unique, with individual personalities and emotions. As with love languages, the way someone loves is distinctively their own. To me, that means Avory and Ellory can love who they want in whatever way they want.

Besides, it's not bothering me. Why should I care?

Which is why I never understood why Mom was so upset all the time.

Doesn't matter now. Mom is gone. I'm confident she's still alive, but I have no idea where she is. Though I'm sure the triplets or Voss could tell me if I cared to know.

Looking at Dad again, I know I don't care. Dad is the only one who's loved us all, just as we are. He's never said that anything we do, though maybe not accepted by society, is wrong or inappropriate. He's always said that we need to be true and authentic to ourselves.

"How many people have you terminated, Loren?" Dad asks.

My eyes are locked with his. We both know I know the answer, and I'm at least 87% sure he knows the answer. What I don't know is why he's asking.

"One hundred and thirteen," I say. "About to be one hundred and fourteen."

He nods. "Remember what we agreed upon when I accepted your employment in this particular position?"

"I'm not allowed to go above twenty kills a year," I answer.

"Mmhmm. What else?"

Really, I always hope he's forgotten about the second part of the agreement. "When I reach five hundred, I retire and need to find something else to do with my life," I say.

He nods, then removes his hand from where he had it against his chin as he listened to us. Mostly, he was listening to Myro. He's our talker.

When his hand comes down, I can almost visibly see the switch in him from Boss Dad to just Dad. He smiles. "Good. Forty-three will come quickly."

I frown. I'm only twenty-four, so I have almost twenty years before I reach 500. Besides, I usually bank some to roll over into the next year, which means I can likely keep killing people until I'm fifty.

Okay, maybe forty-five.

"Okay," I say.

He chuckles. "Go get packed. Be careful. Don't draw attention to yourself."

I look at Imry. When I have to stalk for a bit, Imry is always at my side. Because I have never attempted to assimilate to society and therefore, I tend to stick out unless someone is actively coaching me on what's making me draw attention.

"All right," I agree.

"Get this man off the street," Myro says. "Just as I should have encouraged you to do last summer."

My gaze drifts back to Myro and he's smiling. I return it and nod. This man won't see another week alive.