Prologue
My hands are heavy.
The gloves that weigh them down are made of light, but sturdy iron metal and are caked with blood. I don't know how I'm supposed to go home and act like everything is okay when the adrenaline is still coursing through my veins.
This was one of the easier marks; a bastard that Arthur branded a turncoat, and because of that, he wanted him to suffer. That's why he assigned me to this bastard. My methods are much different than those of my brothers in the Cavalieri Della Morte. I like to take my time and make these moments count because when Arthur asks for me specifically to take down someone that's wronged him, he expects them to suffer.
I sit back against the old and dusty brick wall behind me, turning my eyes to the ceiling. This building has long since been abandoned and it was easy to get him to follow me. I told him that Arthur forgave his transgression, requested a private audience with him to make amends, and when he turned his back to me, I pulled my gloves out of the backpack I had strapped over my shoulder and ripped him to shreds.
Talons are the best way to describe what these specially made weapons look like. And if I want to prolong the process, there are spikes affixed to the knuckles. Sometimes, I like to interrogate the condemned. It's more for my own sanity than to listen to them beg for mercy. While I'm never one to turn away from an assignment once it's given, I have to be sure that the person whose life I'm personally going to end deserves it.
It only happened once.
A man condemned by Arthur's word on bad information.
I turned down his request to kill Tristan as did the rest of the Cavalieri Della Morte. He still gets pissy with us about it, but I don't see any point in killing a brother and because of that, we all do our best to protect him.
His crime?
Falling in love.
We've all been there. Hell, I can't remember the last time it happened to me, but I have a favorite girl and I would probably run with her too if the situation called for it.
With a sigh, I look back down at my hands, careful to keep the man just beyond my gaze a blur on the not so distant horizon as I begin to undo the straps on the gloves, then give them a good shake, before tossing them back into my bag.
I don’t have to see the dead man’s face or body to know what I’ve rendered him to. He’s nothing more than pulp—the knuckles having crushed his face in, and I’m sure I managed to rip his eyes out with the talons. I close my eyes for a moment before I think about what happens after.
Maybe if he’s lucky, someone, somewhere loves him enough to come and mourn him when the time comes.
And that will be their crime.
I won’t come for them because they’d simply be doing something anyone would do in the claiming of a loved one’s body, but I know that for at least the next few days, I’ll be safe.
No one will discover what I’ve done. I like working in abandoned buildings because animals are the best co-conspirators.
The vermin will get rid of him. They'll eat his corpse as best they can, destroying any evidence that I was here or how he really met his end. I clear my throat as I get to my feet and hoist the backpack over my shoulder again as I begin to make my way toward the back of the building.
In through the front, out through the back. It's a simple little trick I learned early on as a way of not being seen more than once by any potential witness. Not that anyone would ever speak out against us because while we're a secretive organization, there are whispers of a crew of assassins roaming around the states and no one wants to be caught in our cross-hairs.
Least of all mine.
Chapter 1
Two days.
That’s how long Arthur has given us to complete this latest mission, and that’s how long I have left to decide what to do.
I kiss the forehead of my favorite girl as she sleeps quietly beside me. Waking up shouldn’t come with the worry of not seeing another day, and thankfully for her, it never does. In a way, I feel bad for choosing her because she’s not who I was sworn to protect from harm, but she’s special and together, we have something that makes the rest of the guys jealous.
I see it in their eyes—even if the words have never left their mouths.
She stirs slightly beside me and I kiss her forehead again. I don’t ever want to forget the taste of her skin or how her body feels when it’s pressed against mine. It’s something I want to take with me into the next life, if such a thing exists, where I’ll wait for her to be in my arms again.
If this doesn’t go as planned, I guess I’ll find out, I muse to myself with a soft chuckle.
A gentle rapping at the door pulls me away from the moment and I gently ease myself off the bed. I don’t want to wake her up because watching her sleep brings me a sense of calm.
I walk over to the door and crack it slightly, smiling when I see Tristan on the other side.
“What’s up?” I ask him quietly.
He holds a finger to his lips and signals for me to follow him into the hallway. He’s always been a great friend to me, and I know that if he’s disrupting one of the rare moments I get with Bentlee, it has to be important.
I step into the hallway as I pull the door closed behind me and cross my arms loosely over my chest.
“Sorry, man,” he says with a sheepish grin. I shrug in return. It’s not really a big deal even though it is, but I won’t make him feel guilty right now. Besides, I can always fuck with him later about it and we both know it.
“I heard Arthur reached out to you today …” When his voice trails off, I shrug again and he sighs. “Did it have to do with me?”
“No. I would tell you if it did,” I reply firmly.
He nods, running a hand over his face. “We’ll head out tonight; go back to your girl maybe the next time I’m in town, we can hang out longer.”