24
This was war. There’s been more blood on these streets these past few days than there has been for years.
We Silver’s had instilled enough fear into those who questioned us that there was no need for the violence. People fell in line wherever we went but now, now that was slipping.
Valentine’s men line up in front of me, on their knees facing the water at the docks. In the distance a fog horn sounds, cutting through the mist that rolls across the dark waters. Around me containers are stacked high, cranes and forklifts abandoned.
I twist the silencer onto my Glock, my hands encased in leather gloves.
A whimper and a sniffle echo through the abandoned shipping yard.
Fucking weak.
And they think they can take over my city.
This shit is laughable.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” Ryker taps the barrel of his gun to each of their heads as he sings the nursery rhyme, he repeats it a few times before stopping at the middle guy. There’s five lined up in total. When the barrel rests on the base of his skull, the guy outright cries. His sobs ricochet around the yard, bouncing off the still waters of the docks. Ryker doesn’t hesitate, he pulls the trigger, the bullet ripping through his skull like it’s no more than butter. He hits the concrete hard, blood pooling from his face.
“So who’s next, should we sing again?” Ryker taunts.
I’ve grown tired though. I pull the trigger four times, ending them. Five more deaths. Five more bodies. I’ll take them all out one by one if I must.
“Dump them on the south side, make sure it’s Valentine or his men that find them.”
Ryker nods as I climb back into my SUV and head across the city, back towards the compound.
The radio is pulling the current news bulletin.
“Club Silver has reopened its doors after a gunman opened fire on the crowd. Two dead, one was student Robbie Hill and the other was the shooter himself. At this time, there is no known association to Club Silver or the owner Alexander Silver, but investigations are still ongoing.”
I hit the button to silence it and instead listen to the tires of my car on the road. It’s quiet, the streets empty bar a few other cars. It’s too late for many people to be out but I could guarantee the city centre, namely the areas around my club would be packed. I avoid it on purpose, taking a few back roads to hit the highway that would lead me to the compound.
My bright white lights cut through the darkness until I eventually see the lights of the mansion like a beacon, drawing me in though I know it isn’t the house making me put my foot down and speed up. It isn’t my bed or the comfort of the four walls, it’s her.
Wren fucking Valentine.
I’m well and truly fucked.
At the gates, I lean out and press my finger to the scanner, waiting for the green light and the beep to sound and then the gates begin to slide open. Since the incident with the house keeper there are constant guys patrolling the grounds. Call me paranoid but until this shit is over, I won’t be making anymore mistakes or taking any chances.
I roll the car to a stop and throw the keys to one of my guys for him to put it in the garage and then take the steps two at a time, pushing the wide doors open. I scan all the rooms on the lower floor looking for her, but she isn’t down here and as I climb the stairs the sound of soft cries and moans fill my ears.
I pick up the pace, heading up to the attic room where the sounds are coming from, throwing the door open.
Wren writhes in the bed, the sheets tangled around her limbs as she thrashes in her sleep. The cries are coming from her but she’s alone in here. Alone with the demons plaguing her dreams.
She’s been like this a few times since the house keeper and I don’t know how else to help her. She hates me, or so she says but I know the truth.
It’s me who brings her comfort, it’s me who settles her dreams and allows her to sleep easy. She can scream and fight me for now, but the truth will eventually come out.
I cross the room and like every night, I scoop her up, pushing the covers from her body. She’s damp from sweat, her skin sticky and like every night I take her down to my room, her grumbling and pouting like a child and shove her into the shower to wash away the dreams.
And like every night, she slips her head into one of my t-shirts that falls to mid-thigh on her tiny frame and climbs under the blankets, curling her body into mine.
Yeah, she hates me alright.
“You still fighting me baby?” I drawl into the darkness.