2. Connor

Voices come through the back door as I move through the house. My brother and three of our men are outside, having a smoke. Their cigarettes are orange flares in the dark. The wood beneath my feet doesn’t creak to announce my presence. They don’t hear me getting closer to the door.

I pause to listen. At times their voices are muffled by the sound of the vengeful wind. In general, they’re not paying attention. The men talk freely among themselves, not bothering to give the surrounding woods more than a cursory glance. It’s not the woods they should be worried about. It’s me.

After years of working for me, and knowing how close to the edge I’ve been, they should be more than aware of that fact.

Their lack of attention will play into my hands, but it frustrates me just the same. I haven’t had the luxury of letting my guard down.

Most people have no guard at all, even the men who are supposed to. They can’t keep their mouths shut. A man who can listen is always better off. That’s what it takes to survive in the world today. You have to keep track of what’s going on around you, even with people you claim to trust.

I don’t trust anyone. Least of all the men outside. My brother is the only one who deserves my trust, and he’s the only one who will get it. Everyone else is expendable. Everyone else can be replaced in a heartbeat. The vast majority of the world simply takes up space until someone has a better use for it.

I wouldn’t have thought that when I was younger. I had softer ideas about the value of human life. Now, I don’t give a fuck.

Except when it comes to my new captive and prize.

Madelyn.

Everything in me screams to go back to her. It’s unsettling. I shut off my emotions six years ago. It was like flipping the switch to a circuit breaker. Every feeling apart from rage died out in an instant, and I haven’t let any of the others come back. It would be impossible to focus with my mind occupied by sentiments and morals.

“What do you make of it?” Fletcher asks the men. They feel secure, out in the backyard. It’s a mistake. The cover of darkness isn’t a cover at all. Just because they’ve carried out the mission successfully doesn’t mean it’s any safer. Loyalty has been questioned recently. I deliberately chose the three newest men, fledgling additions.

If loyalty isn’t given freely, I won’t demand it. I’ll simply cut their throats.

“She’ll run the first chance she gets,” answers the first one. I recognize the voice as belonging to Matthew. After a long drag of his cigarette he adds, “Had that look in her eyes. She’s ready to bolt.”

“Not if she cares for her child,” my brother points out. I swallow thickly at the reminder of the little boy. Those emotions I thought long dead shove themselves to the surface and I clench my fist in response.

“You think he’ll really keep her?” asks the second, Nathaniel. He lights a new cigarette and it casts orange light across his face. “Like he really wants to keep her as his … what? Sex slave?”

“It’s sick,” Matthew practically spits out. “More than a little.”

“Is that the first hint you ever got that my brother’s sick?” my brother asks in a light, joking manner, but there’s a razor blade at the heart of his tone. I don’t have to see him to know there’s a smirk on his face. Right now he’s seemingly charming and at ease, but it conceals a lethal side of him.

“You think I’m sick?” I say as I stride out into the backyard. They’ve been in the business too long to look truly surprised, but the first one frowns. He didn’t want me to overhear him call me sick. It’s a lapse. The third man has been silent and he remains still, his arms crossed as he leans against the brick of the house.

The other two exchange self-conscious glances, like they’ve been caught with their dicks out.

“She’s in a cell, isn’t she?” The question is followed by another drag from the first man’s cigarette. “After all that screaming.”

I’d rather stay cold, but emotions run hot. “She’s doing what I told her to do.”

He smirks. “How? Doesn’t seem like she’ll be very cooperative.”

“That depends on who handles her. So it’s a good thing you assholes won’t be touching her.”

He huffs a humorless laugh with his hands up. “I’m not the one who wants to. You spent too long in there. People are going to think you want her, and she’s not like that.”

“Not like what?”

The first man darts a glance at his buddy. This is risky territory, and he knows it. The mood is lightening but my face isn’t.

“Worth it,” he says. “What happens if she gets to you? What happens if she makes you even sicker than you already are?”

“I’ll let you know if I feel ill when I’m done with her.” I let a smile spread over my face. That’s what he’s watching. He doesn’t see the quick reach for the gun at my belt. He’s too busy laughing.

The safety’s been off since we took her. I’ve been waiting for this moment. Waiting for one of them to step out of line.

Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to care. None of the comments were going to get to me. I wasn’t going to feel anything for her. Not at the house. Not in the cell. Nowhere.

Not until it was time.

The situation is already getting out of control, but my gun isn’t.

I pull the trigger, sending a bullet through his head. Anger surges through my veins. There are things no one can ever know about Madelyn. There are things I’ll have to keep buried deep until this is over.

A spatter of blood lands on my cheek as his body drops with a dull thud. I’ve been at this long enough to recognize the sound of a dead man hitting the ground.

I wait a beat.

Watch him.

No sign of movement comes from the body, except for the blood seeping out of the wound.

I swipe at the blood on my cheek with the back of my hand.

The other men are silent. Cigarettes burn at the tips of their fingers. Not a soul makes a move. The second guy was standing close enough that he has to be bloodied. Impossible to tell for sure with our dark clothes and the dark night. His face is frozen.

“Mind cleaning this up for me, brother?”

Fletcher doesn’t appear disturbed in the least by the death of one of the members of our team. His mouth quirks. Not quite a smile. Not quite a frown. More like acceptance. Like he expected this. All of them should have expected this from me. I’ve been this person for six years now. I’m not going to change because Madelyn is in a cell.

“Not at all, boss.”

I adjust my sleeves as my brother steps over to the body. He bends down and feels for a pulse. It’s not necessary. The man’s dead.

“Did anyone else have any comments about my future wife before I leave?”

I didn’t intend to react to what they were saying, but my pounding heart didn’t get the memo. Sick. I’ll be damned. It was a simple bullshit comment that didn’t mean anything. I felt it like a bullet through flesh.

The anger I’ve kept buried for the last six years is alive and well. It doesn’t matter that I flipped the switch. It’s all come back in an instant.

None of them has a damn thing to say. The only thing that surrounds us is silence and the threat of imminent death if they dare to say another word.

The third man taps the ash off his cigarette. He backs up half a step from the body, leaving room for my brother to roll the dead man onto his back.

“Get the wheelbarrow,” my brother orders.

Everyone snaps into motion. They’ll need to dig a hole at the edge of the woods, tip the body into it, and cover him back up. Not a single word is spoken in protest. Now that I’ve made my point, we shouldn’t have any further conflict.

I’ve been patient. I’ve been meticulous. I’ve been planning.

Now that I have her, I’m going to use her to my advantage and use her for my pleasure.

If that makes me sick, so be it. It’s time to enjoy the spoils of revenge.