Thirteen Tobias

Abel would be the cause of my demise. The death of me. My ultimate downfall. This kid was driving me insane and had no fucking clue. You're doing this for Oliver, I reminded myself for the millionth time. This was the reason why I never allowed myself to care for anyone; it rendered you powerless, undermining your strength. The reminder of my late wife's death stirred a tempest of emotions I'd suppressed for a very long time. Fury surged through my veins like a relentless storm, threatening to consume me. But years of practice had taught me the importance of control, so I fought to constrain my reaction.

I couldn't allow others to witness the depth of my suffering. In my world, showing emotion was a vulnerability, a chink in my armor that I couldn't afford. I had learned the hard way that revealing my pain could be exploited, and I had no intention of becoming an easy target, not even for someone as harmless as Abel.

Behind my unflinching facade, I forced my anger down, burying it deep in my chest. My blood boiling, my knuckles white, I wrestled with the turmoil raging within me. On the outside, I appeared composed, but I was tussling with the memories of my wife's tragic death inside.

Uncle Tobias. My skin crawled at the way Abel called me that, especially after watching that intimate show he'd flaunted on his bed. It sounded wrong and unnatural; similar to how I felt after invading his privacy. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he called my name when he came. I was confused and aroused at the same time. I didn't know why Abel had my circuits in haywire. I was out of my element when it came to him. Maybe because of his age or something else, but I needed to figure out a way to get into his hard head so I could consider this mission done and dusted and be on my merry way. We had bigger issues to face, and the longer I stayed here, the more advantage The Firm was gaining. They didn't need an edge. We were already the David to their Goliath, and we'd made sure our story had the same ending. Fighting I knew how to do well, but dealing with a petulant teenager was way out of my fucking league.

"I gotta go. I've got an early day tomorrow," Abel announced before walking away.

There was no sense arguing with him, so I let him go, watching him disappear behind the stands of trees. There was something he wasn't telling me. He might be able to fool others, but not me. I'd get my answers one way or the other.

My nerves wound tight as a spring, I stood where Abel had left me. Sleep wasn't going to happen after the night I'd had, so, without being noticed, I chose to spend the entire evening exploring the cult's premises and its fringes until dawn.

Aside from a couple of modestly constructed buildings, including the facility housing the quarters, gym, and the arena, this commune was in dire need of restoration. Most of the structures were decaying and some of the houses were dilapidated, one spark away from burning to the ground. This cult—or The Creed, as they called themselves—must offer something to its people that was escaping my sharp sense of perception. Why else would they stay?

When the first ray of sun broke the sky, I rushed to get to my room. The nocturnal sounds were replaced by the clucking of chickens, dogs barking, and the roaring of an old truck engine. Eardrum-piercing sirens greeted me when I entered the warehouse. The guards were too busy intimidating the group of six young men to notice my presence. It's too early for this shit. I caught a glimpse of Abel between the heads of the four guards and wondered how he'd spent the rest of his night. Probably sound asleep. I would have after coming hard twice like that. He stretched his arms over his head, yawning. It was hard to miss how young he looked, regardless of how tough he acted. I made a mental note to ask about his age; it was inconsequential for my obligation, but I was curious.

Four doors and three minutes later, I was in my bed.

"How was your first night?" Sterling asked, popping his head in.

"Can't complain." I lurched awake, stretching and feigning a yawn. I could complain, but it wouldn't do me any good.

"Why don't you get ready, and I'll meet you outside so we can get started with the day."

I raised my thumb, nodding. "Wait up, Sterling," I called before he left.

"Yeah?"

"Do you smoke?"

"I do. Want some?"

"If you don't mind." I widened the door, letting Sterling inside.

"Here." He pulled a couple of cigarettes out of his pack, handing them to me. "Two enough?"

"More than enough," I answered. "Do you have a light?"

Sterling handed me a silver Zippo from the pocket of his black pants. "You can't smoke in here though," he said before releasing his grip on the lighter.

"I'll wait till later," I assured him. "This is nice. May I keep it?" I asked, flicking the lighter open.

"Sure—consider it my welcome present," Sterling answered with a smile. He was different from the rest. Nicer. Friendlier. It was a shame he was associated with Orcus and the cult.

"Thanks." I flicked the lighter once before pocketing the silver lifesaver. It might not be much, but for me it meant survival. I'd completed an assignment once with just a lighter. I headed to the bathroom and flushed the cigarettes down the toilet.

***

"Bless us lord for this bountiful feast. We pray for you to nourish our bodies and cleanse our souls …" Orcus began. He stood with his head turned to the ceiling with his palms up in front of him.

Just when I thought this place couldn't be any creepier, one of the guards, who I hadn't seen before, took over the blessing. Upon closer inspection, he didn't appear to be with the others. He wore a shirt similar to Orcus's but less ornate. He stood next to the cult's leader while the others kept a good five-feet distance. He kneeled, wove his fingers, and looked up at Orcus. "We are sinners who have left behind our selfish ways to serve you, God. Thank you for delivering Orcus to us, our savior."

What the fuck?

Orcus's expression shifted. Although his smile remained, it seemed twisted, almost mocking. He basked in the reverence directed his way. He opened his eyes briefly, gleaming with hunger for power and control. There was something unsettling about his posture, a subtle arrogance that belied the glory he received. He took pleasure in the guards' unwitting admiration.

He reminded me of some of the men I'd "dealt with" before. What a piece of work. I tuned out their theatrical delivery and surveyed the room. The guards had their bobbing heads down, their hands joined together, while the six trainees whispered among each other. Their serious faces matched their animated hand gestures. A couple of guys shook their heads as if they disagreed about what the others said, but Abel lowered his hands slowly as if to tell them to keep their voices low. He seemed to be the one steering the conversation. He wasn't the biggest of the group, but he appeared to be their leader. I wished I could read lips to figure out what they were saying.

Abel's attention landed on mine and his features hardened. He narrowed his eyes.

What the hell was his problem? My irritation simmered. If he believed his feeble attempts at intimidation could faze me, he had another think coming. I leaned back in my seat, draping my arms around the back of the chair and met his stare, unflinching.

As expected, Abel's face contorted with fury, every muscle tense and taut. His lips pressed into a thin, rigid line, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed ready to shatter. His veins pulsed visibly along his temples, stressing the intensity of his rage. Each breath heaved from his chest like a smoldering furnace, his nostrils flaring with each exhale.

The room fell silent around us. Our eyes were locked in a silent battle of wills, each of us daring the other to look away. The tension crackled in the air, thickening with each passing moment as neither of us showed any sign of backing down.

"Amen," the man ended his prayer and everyone, including Abel, schooled their expression to neutral.

"Let me show you around," Sterling said after breakfast.

We strolled through the corridors, passing more of the same rooms that were in dire need of repair. "Who was that guy next to Orcus?" I asked.

"The one who led the morning prayers?"

"Yeah."

"His name is Ti, Orcus's right-hand man."

"What do you know about him?"

"Not much, really." Sterling shrugged. "He's hardly here. I've only seen him twice."

Another wrinkle in my plan, I thought to myself, feeling a pang of frustration. The unexpected turn of events had thrown a wrench in my carefully laid-out strategy, forcing me to reassess my next steps. I made a mental note to ask Zero about Ti and his whereabouts when he wasn't in The Creed.

"This is the gym," Sterling said, pointing at the partially open door. The room was filled with the relentless thud of punches, moans, and grunts from the young men clustered in the middle pushing their bodies to the limit.

I watched from the sidelines as the trainers put them through their paces. I couldn't help but feel a sickening knot in my stomach while I observed Abel. He was nowhere near ready for any fight. He had all the strength but lacked form and discipline. If only they knew.

I elbowed Sterling to get his attention. "Hey," I began tentatively. "How do you become one of those?" I pointed at two jacked coaches.

"You mean a trainer?"

I nodded.

"They're just guards who volunteered. Nothing special, really," Sterling explained. "They're doing a great job, I think."

"They are." I didn't doubt that, but Abel could benefit from tailored one-on-one coaching. How could I voice that without sounding too obvious? "Do you think I could try?"

"Try what?"

"Training them."

Sterling raised an eyebrow. "You know martial arts?"

"You could say that." Hand-to-hand combat was one of my specialties; my preference was to fight, as I could use my strength and size to my advantage.

"Hmm." Sterling scanned the fighters in the ring.

"I could get them ready faster."

"We'll need Orcus's approval for that."

"Can you make the call?" I doubted Orcus would object if it was to benefit his fighters. Plus, he'd said, anything I want.

"Gimme a sec." Sterling reached for his radio then left the gym to make the call.

While I waited for a response, my apprehension grew, regretting my decision to ask to be entangled in these young men's lives. I was here for a mission and getting involved would only complicate things. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to do something. This is for my best friend.

The guard coaching Abel threw him off balance when he maneuvered his leg between Abel's, tripping him to the ground. Classic inside trip. Abel struggled to get back on his feet after the surprise move. He should've seen that move coming. The blow he sustained to his knee didn't deject him, but his determination appeared to be intact.

Sterling returned. "Orcus said you can coach them."

"Can I start right now?" I started walking across the room before Sterling could answer, ready to do whatever was needed to turn these guys into fighters—especially Abel.

All eyes were on me when I interrupted their practice. The one pair I was particularly curious about was Abel's, who was giving me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look.

"Listen up," Sterling said from behind. "This is Toby, and Orcus has tasked him to get y'all prepared."

"Prepared for what?" the biggest guy asked, wiping his sweaty forehead with his forearm.

"You'll find out later," one of the trainers answered.

Abel's attention was like a laser beam. I was thankful that he remained silent, keeping the promise he made last night about my identity. I needed Orcus's and the guards' trust until I was ready to strike.

I wasted no time in getting involved. Starting with Abel, who was now standing by the corner in front of the smudged tan punching bag suspended from a metal post. "I got it from here." I tapped the trainer who had been practicing with Abel on the back.

The trainer, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanor, scratched his beard. He studied me with suspicion before moving on to the next guy.

Abel stalked every move I made with a stern face.

"Let's start with your stance," I said, shifting Abel's half-naked body to face the punching bag. I stood behind him and grabbed both of his hips.

He gasped a lungful of air. His skin was scorching hot, burning my touch with volts of electricity—a sensation I hadn't felt in ages. When Abel exhaled a shaky breath, sweat cascaded down his brawny back, dripping into his soaked gym shorts. The outline of his underwear accentuated his well-built ass—firm and tight.

I cleared my throat and focused on the task. "Are you right-handed?" I asked. My lips were inches away from his ear. I couldn't tell for sure, since he'd jerked off using both hands last night. I shook the image of his pumping fists from my head. Clear mind only going forward.

"Left-handed," he answered.

"Good." I tapped his right leg before continuing. "Spread your legs."

He groaned, goosebumps appearing on the back of his neck.

"Good boy." The words left my mouth before I was able to filter them, and I was relieved that no one heard them but Abel. "Bring your left leg slightly forward."

"I didn't know you boxed," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to study me, his lips nearly brushing mine. He held my stare for a moment before looking away, awaiting my next instruction.

"There're lots of things you don't know about me," I growled.

"Shit. You're killing me," Abel murmured. "Can you excuse me for a second." He stepped aside, keeping his back against mine, adjusting his shorts.

"Are you okay?" I approached but he raised his arm up, stopping me in my tracks.

"I'm okay … just … don't come any closer." He pivoted his body, sticking his ass up. "I'll be right back," he said before running away.

"Hey, where are you going?" one of the trainers yelled.

"Gotta pee," Abel answered, disappearing into the bathroom that didn't have a door.

"Hey, you!" I shifted my attention to the other trainees while I waited for Abel to come back so the guards didn't get suspicious that I was playing favorites.

It'd been ten minutes since Abel left to go to the bathroom. He better not be jacking off again. "I'll be right back," I said and went to check on him, but stopped halfway when he finally came out. "Are you all right?" I asked once he reached me and we walked back to the punching bag.

"I'm fine." His tone was laced with attitude. "Just needed a moment." He was avoiding looking at me. "Are we training or yakking?"

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I shot back, my voice sharp with irritation. Don't smack him. Don't smack him.

"They call me Nine," the smart ass answered.

"Watch it!"

"Whatever," he whispered, turning away.

"Wait." I grabbed Abel's arm as he took his first step.

Abel looked down to where we were connected. "What?"

I released my hold on him, but his warmth lingered on my skin. "How much do you trust them?" I nodded in the direction of the rest of the guys.

"More than I trust you," Abel answered without skipping a beat.

Those words would've stung if I had a heart, but my soul was hollow, so I ignored him and instead made it my mission to change his mind. I'd start by telling him why I was there: to get him and his family out as soon as possible.