4

Jack

October 20th, 2019

I shut off the bike and watched as she walked into the café across the street. Fuck, she was beautiful. Even on this slightly overcast day, the streams of sunlight managed to find a way to light up her blonde hair, giving her a sort of angelic look as she walked with a kind of grace most people didn’t have unless they went through some kind of agility training.

I waited until a few others walked in after her before I swung my leg over my bike, pulled off my helmet, leaving it on my handlebars, adjusted my bag, and headed across the street.

The scent of coffee hit me as soon as I opened the café door, a little chime sounding.

“Welcome,” the barista greeted before returning to her customer.

I found a seat in the corner, giving me a perfect view of the room, ordered a black coffee, and sat back, watching as she sipped at her coffee, ate her food, and scrolled.

From the way she drank her coffee, it seemed like she almost didn’t like it, yet here she was, drinking it. It always seemed that way though. A strange little flick of her lips as if her tongue was disgusted in the taste but her mind was so used to the idea of it that she couldn’t help herself.

I pulled up her screen on my phone and studied what she was looking at.

Instagram at first. Scrolling through her own profile for reasons unknown to me. I hated social media. We were meant to be ghosts, unknown to the world, social media was the opposite of that, but fuck, she was beautiful.

To the world she lived such a loud and amazing life, which wasn’t a complete lie. When she did decide to leave her apartment, she was friendly with everyone. She took pictures of everything she did, everything she saw. She documented her life as if she needed the world to believe she was someone she wasn’t.

I wondered why she felt the need. Advertising on social media was the perfect way to be stalked, hunted, killed. Anyone could find anyone in this world of technology, which was why I specialized in it. Hunting was easy when the prey flaunted themselves everywhere.

Although Rae only had one account, and while she did post a few pictures of herself from time to time, mostly it was aesthetic shots. Coffee, the city, animals, plants.

“Here’s your coffee,” the barista said.

I took the cup from her, giving her a nod and nothing else.

“Um, I get off at 2,” she told me.

I thought she had walked away. “Not interested,” I told her without looking up.

Rae finally went to her normal feed and scrolled through, hearting certain things, telling me exactly what she liked looking at. It was dark. Questionable. Something I expected from Zo or Poppy, but not from a woman who looked like her. She had an entirely secret life she didn’t share with the world, and that’s the life I wanted to know more about.

She flicked up, pulling up her other windows and clicking on one that had my brows lifting in shock.

Were those…

I shivered, having to adjust my cock as I watched her slowly scroll through the options of dildos and vibrators that looked like they had come right out of a horror movie.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, my cock twitching in hunger. If that’s what she wanted, I’d gladly shove an alien dildo up her tight little ass, feel her squirm and writhe under me as I pinned her down and worked it in and out slowly.

Her moans would fill the room as she jutted her ass back, wanting it deeper, the device covered in lube, her face twisting in pure, unadulterated lust.

My eyes lifted as I slid my hand over my throbbing cock, pulling on it while spreading my legs out, trying to relieve the pressure.

She bit her lip, chewing on the very tip of her deep red painted acrylic nails. She had just gotten them three days ago, and while the color wasn’t my favorite on her, they still looked good.

Her thumb fell to the screen and my eyes fell to mine, watching as she selected a specific vibrating tentacle shaped dildo.

I felt my chest tighten as I watched my screen move. She was reading through the description, taking into consideration, I assumed, the way it moved, how fast it went.

My phone started buzzing just as she hit ‘add to cart’.

I snarled, watching Malachi’s name flash across my screen. “Fuck,” I muttered and hit answer. “What?” I bit.

“Is it done?”

My eyes narrowed as they lifted back to her. “You told me to take as long as I needed, so I’m taking my time.” She was tempting me in ways she shouldn’t have been. The one assignment I told myself not to touch the target and here I was, considering personally delivering that specific little toy right into her cunt myself. I wanted to watch her writhe against it, squirm, whimper, begging me for more—

“You’re fucking her.”

I lifted my cup, taking a slow drink. “I’m playing a game.” Why did he care? He never cared about us fucking our targets. If he did, he never mentioned it.

Something shuffled in the background. “Fine, so long as she’s dead at the end of it. I have another job for you.”

“Send me the details.” I hung up and pulled out my laptop. I opened up the tabs I had on her, going over what I had found.

Rae Bennett, born to Marla Bennett, no father on record. Newly 26, raised by a nanny who went by Donna Oswald. Donna took care of her while Marla traveled the world, buying and selling art.

Rae went to a private school. She never wanted for anything, although she had a lonely life, which shocked me. I have seen the way she acted around strangers, how kind and open she was. It was surprising that her only friend in life now was Viv.

I glanced back to my phone, seeing the confirmation of her order before she switched back to Instagram.

Why only one friend?

I turned back to my screen. The cops found nothing to lead them in any direction towards her mother’s murderer. A week later, Donna left, which seemed appropriate given her age. Donna was probably only around to aid in Rae’s loneliness. Paid for friends. When the money stopped, why would the nanny stick around?

She was quickly cleared by the police.

The memorial was interesting though. Nobody had showed up according to the Funeral Director. No family or friends. Just the preacher and a man by the name of Max Justice.

He claimed to be her half-brother, but there were no records of Marla Bennett ever giving birth again before or after Rae. In fact, Marla Bennett’s life was suspiciously the same as her daughter’s.

No friends, no family, a boring and ordinary life, save for her traveling.

I pulled up the transaction list, skimming through her life of dealing. Anyone else looking at these would believe they were legit, but I could see the patterns.

It didn’t matter where in the world Marla had been, she made transactions on the same days every single month.

The 3rd, 8th, 22nd, and 27th. Four a month for art dealing was enough to make her look successful but not suspicious, and they were always of differing values. Very few were overly expensive, but enough to make it look real.

My phone buzzed and I looked over, finding that Rae had made another purchase.

My eyes widened, a sweat breaking out across my skin.

She had a VCH piercing, and she wanted to upgrade her jewelry.

God, I wanted to fucking suck that piercing right between my goddamn teeth.

She smiled softly and switched to another screen. The carnival. She had bought tickets the moment they had become available, so I had too. Where better to meet my little Princess than a place where she thrived?

The chime of the bell met my ears and this time, Rae looked up as if she had a sixth sense ringing through her. Her expression immediately dried.

My brows furrowed and I casually looked over to the person walking in. An ordinary male, buzzed head, a pale scar on the right side of his skull just above his ear, bland eyes, a slight hunch when he walked. He was tall but lanky, the kind of guy who got off on being a total piece of shit.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes shifting back to Rae’s as Max made his way to her table. Maybe she just had a sixth sense for assholes.

She casually closed all of her windows, flipped her phone over and leaned back in her chair, her beautiful bedroom eyes darkened in disdain. That look could bring a normal man to his knees, all it made me want to do is tame the beast inside of her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, wrapping a hand around her coffee.

“You didn’t answer my calls, I was worried.”

I lifted my phone, pulling up her call log, finding the dozens of calls he had made in the last 12 hours. It made me angry in a way I didn’t quite expect. Why was he calling her so often? Why did he feel the need to keep tabs on her? That was my job and my job alone.

“I wasn’t obligated to,” she replied, her dark brows pulling together in irritation.

I studied those amber eyes, the anger clear, but under that, there was a slight bit of fear. Not much, but enough for someone like me to notice.

Max snatched her phone up and I watched as he began going through it. He opened several apps, but never her Instagram, and I wondered why until I realized that she had figured out a way to hide the app so he would never find it.

Clever girl.

She rolled her eyes and looked out the window, her expression softening ever so slightly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, clearly worried.

“Hide your emotions, Princess,” I mumbled. “They might see.”

As if she heard me, she hardened her expression again just a second before Max scoffed and shook his head. “You’re into some sick shit, Rae.”

My eyes fell to the phone. He had pulled up her internet history. My jaw tightened. What gave him the fucking right?

He closed it out and pulled up her call log, showing it to her.

Who did he think he was? He inserted himself into her life less than eight months ago and he thought he was going to control her? I needed to look into Max Justice a little more, perhaps show him how a real man handles his fucking business.

My phone vibrated again. A text with the details of my new job coming through.

An address and a name.

I locked my phone, closed my laptop, and stood. I would deal with this later. I had access to the cameras around her building and on the street outside of her building. I had cloned her phone and now had access to everything she did. It wouldn’t be hard to find out what happened while I was away.

In this job we had many enemies. Not just those wanting to take down Malachi and take over what he had built, but those who were angry that they didn’t get the chance to go through the Shadow Initiation Program in the first place. Many were denied every year for one reason or another. It made some bitter and angry, causing them to go after the man who created the program, along with his sons from time to time.

Other times it was a family member who knew that their sibling, aunt, uncle, brother, sister, whoever, had died under Malachi’s watch. They decided to go after him, us, and it never ended well.

The rules were made clear before the program began. There was always a chance that you would die, fail, never be accepted into it, yet people always seemed so shocked when these things happened.

It was comical.

Malachi hadn’t thought through how much his secret program would have grown over the years, but the more people he hired to work for him, the bigger he got, the more the rumors spread.

After two decades, it was harder to keep it so secret, and even harder to control the crazies coming out of the woodworks.

Nobody would ever be a son or daughter, but most had a chance to become an Initiate. Greyson’s best friend Jeremy had taken the chance and succeeded. Barely, but he had succeeded.

There were hundreds more out there now. Initiates. Many others who worked for Malachi who had either gone through the program, failed, and lived to tell about it, or never wanted to go through the program, and remained where they were on Malachi’s hierarchy.

Those men were grunts.

Those who went through the program and failed, keeping their lives, they had some respect, but obviously not as much as the Initiates. And while the Initiates had all the respect, they were treated like Kings compared to my brothers and I who were treated like Gods.

Perhaps we weren’t as high up as Malachi or his brother, but we were pretty damn close. The power was intoxicating, even for the Initiates, in fact, there were times we had to hunt down Initiates who let the power get to their heads. The world of Malachi’s graduates was a tedious one, but the balance was fair. Arrogance was tolerated to a point. Once the line was crossed, there was no going back.

My target today, the male who pulled me away from watching Rae, was the brother of a man who had died on day two of the Shadow Initiation.

It was fucking pathetic.

It was even more pathetic that a guy named Brian Rant would ever challenge us.

I sat on my bike down the street from his house. Brian was an idiot in all aspects. The curtains were open, and I could see him sitting at his dining room table with a pile of guns stacked in front of him. What he planned to do with them, I could only imagine.

The building that we primarily used as home base, so to speak, was located in Seattle, Washington. We were in Los Angeles. It was roughly 18 hours away on a good day, unless he was planning on flying, I supposed, but nobody would allow him on a plane with that much shit on him. Not in this day and age.

He was angry and that anger made him stupid. If his brother was anything like him, there was a reason he didn’t make it through the program. Anger was a weapon. You could learn to control it if you had the right control over your own mind, that’s what made us the best.

We had a kind of rage that would kill normal men, but we learned to wield it in a way that aided us in our missions.

I loaded my gun, started my bike, and sped off down the street. The sound would scare him. We all had bikes. Greyson preferred cars, but everyone who was anyone knew that we all had bikes. A graduation gift from Malachi himself.

I rounded the block and pulled down a narrow dirt alley. I shut it off and parked it next to a few overflowing trash cans. It would be fine for now. This would only take a few minutes.

I swung my leg over and headed for the back of his house. He would be scrambling to clean up his things before he ran to the storm shelter out back. Not many houses here had them, I suppose he could be considered lucky in that case.

Better for me if he did get down there. Jade could easily bury that thing, Brian inside, before erasing him from the world completely.

I jumped over the back fence and headed for his back door. Still closed, which told me he was still inside.

Just as soon as I got up to the door, it swung open.

I stepped forward, slamming my hand into his chest, causing him to tumble to the floor.

His eyes widened, panic and fear mixing with the clear rage resting in the back of them. “Which one are you?” he demanded, crawling back on his hands. “At least give me that much decency.”

I laughed. Decency. I pointed the gun at his head. Decency wasn’t in our vocabulary.

“Greyson?” he hoped. “Please, don’t do this. My mother already lost one son. Please, it was a mistake. I swear to God, it was a mistake.”

Hmm, trying to appeal to Greyson’s heart, but even he wouldn’t show mercy, not now. He understood the rules he had just as well as any of us. When someone threatened one of us, they threatened us all. “You should have been a better son,” I told him carefully.

His back hit the cabinets and he held up his hands. “Please. Don’t do this. Please.”

I pulled the trigger and his head whipped back against the cabinet with a sickening crack before he slumped over.

I called Jade, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder before unscrewing the silencer. “It’s done.”

“Be there in a few.”

We had cleaners in nearly every major city. We had to. There were times when we were in a different city every week, having them everywhere helped with that.

I stuffed my gun and silencer away and hung up, looking around the place. He had managed to clear off some of the table, but there was a lot still piled there. Grenades, guns. Dynamite? I frowned. I couldn’t even begin to imagine his plan with that.

I turned for the living room, glancing around. I didn’t expect to find anything useful besides weapons. We knew he had been plotting against us, but he hadn’t been smart about it. It was pathetic how terrible he had been at this. His brother had been better, it was a shame he died during the Initiation.

With a breath, I headed out.

By the time I found Rae again, she had made it back to her apartment. Luckily for her, there was a building just across the way. Not blocking her view of the city but angled perfectly enough to give me a view of her balcony and the curtains she always had open. Careless in the sense that anyone who had moved into this apartment could have watched her. Lucky for me though. Very lucky.

I wouldn’t cross some of the lines Azrael would, but Hell, the curiosity was there, especially after what I had found out about her today.

She was on her phone, one arm wrapped around her waist while she stared at her television. Some sort of ghost hunters show, it looked like. None of us watched much television, but we weren’t immune to the references circulating around the world. Night vision, found footage type filming, men making strange faces. Definitely a ghost hunting show.

My phone started ringing, pulling me from watching her. I answered it and turned back towards the apartment. “What?”

“How was Brian Rant?”

Everett. “Fine. What’s going on?”

“Malachi called a meeting,” he answered, his voice low. “Have you noticed the way he’s been acting lately?”

“No more on edge than usual.” I thought he was acting strange too. Ever since he gave me this assignment, he’s been more on edge than usual, but who was I to say that something was truly off? Malachi had his secrets, he had his bad days just like any of us, he was most likely just bitter that someone had managed to get onto our property without being seen, drop an envelope on our doorstep, and wire money into our highly secure accounts, all without being traced. That was a very good reason to have a bad attitude, and he has probably been dealing with it since I left. “Is it just The Family or everyone?”

“Everyone who was available,” he answered coldly. “Azrael disappeared again.”

Typical. “Has Greyson heard from him?”

“No, not yet.”

“Tell me when he does then.” I hung up and turned back to Rae’s apartment. Whenever Azrael went AWOL, which happened from time to time, he always contacted Greyson first. Nobody knew why. He made his hatred for our other brother clear, yet it was always him. Everett suspected that, despite the annoyance Azrael felt for Greyson, he trusted him, but I didn’t believe it.

Azrael didn’t trust anyone. He didn’t have faith in anything. He was a ghost, whispering through this world on vengeance and blood. He cared for no one but himself and his ‘Mission’. A mission he wouldn’t share with any of us.

I had always made jokes when we were kids, about sending him to an asylum for a while, get his head on straight, but when Malachi had finally decided to do just that, Azrael came back a little more untethered than he had before.

It made him worse, more dedicated, more filled with a quiet rage.

I think that if it came down to it, killing my brothers would be easy. I could kill them all without thought if I needed to, but Azrael? Azrael scared the shit out of me. The things I had seen him do. Even the devil would vomit watching him.

I lifted my binoculars again just as Rae hung up the phone. She was frowning. She dipped her head, bringing the heel of her hand to her forehead, her hair falling into her face, the frustration clear.

I pulled out my phone and pulled up hers, finding the last number that had called her. Unknown.

Not ideal. My eyes lifted back to hers.

She was standing very still, pondering, I would guess, before she inhaled deeply, straightened, and headed for her room.

I lowered my binoculars and turned back to my phone, staring at that word. Unknown. “Okay, Princess, let’s see who else you know.”