Chapter 1

Chapter One

TYRANT

Pain is routine. So is murder. I hold the candle up to my face and watch the flame dance against my breath. Think about it—I control the flame. I control everything. It’s my power. It’s who I am. That’s why she ’s on her knees in front of me, naked, wrists chained in front of her. She stares up at me with baby-blue eyes, absolutely terrified, yet completely giving to me. This is what she wanted. What she signed up for.

She can’t see my face because I’m wearing my mask. We all wear masks during moments such as this. We have to be hidden in some way. We’re the most powerful people in the world. We’re the sons of those in control of everything. Some of us are bastards. All of us are evil.

Take right now, for example, I can’t help but think about taking out a knife with a long, sharp, perfectly shined blade, and running it right across this woman’s throat. Slice her ear to ear and leave her to bleed out on the floor. That’s her ultimate fate. Nothing in her life will get better from here. This right here is nothing more than a fix. Like a junkie feeding their hungry, achy veins. All I’m doing is feeding this woman’s hungry, achy desires that she can’t express in the real world .

Amazing to think she’ll wake up tomorrow and just go about her day. Fuck, for all I know, she’ll wake up and make scrambled eggs for her spoiled shithead kids and drive the family minivan to sit in line at school drop-off before going to Pilates because she needs her mom ass tight and firm for her loser of a husband, who spends his time in the shower jerking off, thinking about the new secretary fresh out of college with huge, still-lifted tits.

“Fucking pathetic,” I growl. “Boring fucking life. You’ll never be happy. Stupid cunt.”

I feel a hand push between my shoulder blades.

Yeah, I know, I get it. No fucking talking. She didn’t pay to be verbally abused.

I shake my head, reach down and grab at her left tit. Her tits are very nice, if I’m being honest. I don’t get why women fear the reality of time and their age.

I stroke my thumb across the woman’s nipple. Her skin is speckled with freckles. Her skin is a little scratchy and leathery too. Fucking woman spends too much time in the sun or in a tanning booth.

“Look up at me, bitch,” I order.

She does as told. Makes no sense to me. This woman is beautiful. She can be out every single night, hitting the bars, getting fucked by dozens of men. Men her age. Men my age. She could be taking two cocks at a time. Fuck, make it three or more too. Why not?

I moved the candle toward my mouth and slowly stick my tongue out. I flick my tongue against the flame and the wick, making a sensual gesture. It stings like fire and the flame disappears.

I cup the woman’s left tit in my hand and lower the candle down toward her nipple. I tip the candle and let the hot wax drip.

The woman gasps and whimpers in pain as the wax grabs her nipple and starts to harden. I drop the candle to the floor and debate pulling my cock free and throat fucking her until she’s crying and throwing up on me. Instead, I simply step to the right.

That’s my part for the night in this gesture. This game.

If this woman only knew she had been brought to a secret society called Sinners Academy and it was full of testosterone-filled guys in their early twenties looking to fuck, fight, and take control of the world…

I step through a curtain to my right and forget all about the woman. She’s just one of a few billion that exist.

As I reach for my mask, a hand grabs my wrist.

“Don’t,” a voice thunders next to me. “Luc called an emergency meeting.”

I curl my lip under my mask. “For what?”

“There’s a new arrival coming soon… and someone needs to go kidnap her…”

I’m not sure who named it Perg but the secret room is short for Pergamos . If you have no fucking idea what that means, simply put, it’s where the devil sits. A church where the devil has his throne.

Yeah, we have a throne here. It’s a high-back, black throne. Soft like velvet, carved decades ago with skulls, roses, and the portrayals of hell etched so carefully into its spectacular wood. Some of us want to sit on the throne. Others don’t give a flying fuck about it. In reality, we’re all going to make a fuck load more money away from SA than sticking around.

We all wear our masks. Lined up in a row, just a handful of us. The ones Luc called upon. Luc is short for Lucifer. Fitting since he’s the one sitting on the throne, right? Lucifer isn’t his real name, just like Tyrant isn’t mine. We’re all given names when we arrive. Tossed from society due to our… indiscretions.

I bet you want to know my real name right now, huh?

No fucking chance.

Luc sits on the throne, dressed in all black, his mask golden. The only golden mask.

“We have two matters at hand that need attention immediately,” he says in his golden boy voice. “We’ve received notice of a new arrival. We need to accommodate her properly. She must be taken from the comfort of her home and brought here. All the necessary arrangements have been made. I just need two of you to get her.”

“And the other thing?” I call out.

Speaking out of turn… total disrespect. Now before you judge me, I respect who we are and what we do. I respect the throne. I respect the Perg . The brood. The legion . All of it. It’s Luc I have a problem with.

Then again, who wouldn’t have a problem with their half-brother… right? His father decided to fuck my mother for a little while and out popped me.

“We found one of the targets,” Luc says. “We have all the evidence and the approvals.”

My fingers almost fucking twitch. Murder makes my mouth water. I salivate as though I’m about to taste a woman’s plump, juicy cunt.

“Tyrant and Demo, you both go obtain the new arrival,” Luc says.

I curl my lip behind my mask. Luc knows how I feel about murder. He’s doing this on purpose to fuck with me.

“Peri and Vic, you two can handle our target,” Luc says. “Take Baal with you. He’s been running recon on the building. We know right where the target is and his entire schedule.”

Let’s backtrack for a second. Who is this target? I won’t name names, that’s part of the gig. We call them targets and that’s all they are. They are powerful people. Not as powerful as us. I’m talking lawyers, doctors, judges. I’m talking businessmen worth a lot of money. And their deaths are never reported. Why worry the common people, right? They see the rich and powerful as just that. They can’t image someone worth billions living in a state of fear, knowing they could be taken out at any time for any reason.

For this target, he made a promise that was then broken. What that promise is doesn’t matter. What does matter?

“Baal fucked up,” I call out.

Luc stands up. He’s pissed off. Baal turns his head, mask on, and I know he wants to kill me. I stand tall and firm.

“I apologize for this, Sir ,” I grit through my teeth at my half-brother. “The building in question is secure, as noted. The problem is the west side of the building. Directly across there’s an office. A laptop is always open. Could be nothing. But we know how easy it is to hack.”

“Is this true?” Luc asks Baal.

“Plan is to enter from the north side,” Baal says. “Take the fire stairs up to the seventh floor and handle business.”

“Except for the view,” I say. “If our target is near the window, there’s a chance from across the street…”

“Baal, you were put in charge of this,” Luc says. “That requires every possible scenario thought of. Imagine if a fucking laptop from across the street caught up to us?”

“Yes, Sir,” Baal says. “I must have overlooked that.”

“I guess we’ll have to teach you to look better,” Luc says. “Look harder.”

Luc gives a nod and everyone in the room knows how badly Baal wants to freak the fuck out. He knows if he protests punishment, it’ll be worse.

Two other men in black robes and masks grab Baal by the arms and pull him toward Luc. They kick out his legs and put Baal onto his knees. Luc rips Baal’s mask off and holds Baal’s throat with one hand. With the other Luc places his hand out.

“Give me a knife so I can cut this fuck’s eye out,” Luc says.

That’s when Baal starts to shake. The rest of us don’t move a muscle.

Me personally, I don’t give a fuck about Baal or his eye. This is his doing. This is his issue. When we track down targets and we give the final reports, they need to be done in expert fashion. There are no fuck ups allowed. Missing something like a laptop may not seem like much, but all it takes is someone hacking into that laptop and accessing the camera and then zooming in and clarifying the video of our target being killed…

You get the idea.

“This will teach you to see better,” Luc says.

He stabs Baal in the right eye with a pristine knife blade, then digs and turns. Of course Baal screams in pain. No man could withstand that kind of pain.

Luc stops after a few seconds and tells the two men to take Baal into a soundproof room and finish up. He makes sure to make it a point to say he wants Baal’s eye in his hand. That’s Luc. He wants to show off Baal’s eye.

The two men drag Baal away and Luc looks right at me.

“We’ll hold off on the target for now.”

“The fuck we will,” I say. “I’ve got this. Sir .”

“Take Peri and leave,” Luc says. “Demo and Vic will go get our new arrival. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her.”

“What did she do to warrant coming here?” Demo asks in his thundering voice.

“That doesn’t matter,” Luc says. “Your only job is to obtain her. Kidnap her.”

That’s the end of the meeting. Luc sits down on his throne and waves us off. We leave Perg and take off our robes, but not our masks. Orders have been given and orders will be followed.

A kidnapping.

A murder.

Just another normal day and night here at Sinners Academy.