Dad put me in his life to protect him, yet I stand here as the very person who can cause his destruction. If he could, by some slim chance, look past who I am, I’d shatter the purity in his soul. I’d bring out the darkness that threatens to break free from behind his icy stare.
I don’t know who or what this man needs protection from that led me here, but I know he needs protection from me more. No matter my choice, he’ll end up broken in my palms. The jagged edges tearing into my skin, making me bleed, and I’ll get off on his pain, along with my own.
I’ll both selflessly and selfishly choose to catch him before he falls and end this. I push away from him, and he lets his hands fall to his side. The look on his face holds a silent command to not forget what he said. Turning on my heel, I saunter off to the car I’m using. The cold of the air sinks deeper into my bones the further I get from Liam’s warm arms.
When I finally get in my car, turn on the engine, and slip into my coat, I stare ahead at the puddles from the torrential rain we had last night and get lost in the memory of this lie that I’m living. I’m not sure how long I sit there, soaking in the warmth from the heater blowing on me, before my phone pings.
Reaching into my center console where I stashed it, I look down at the name, expecting to see Liam. A text message from Oren flashes on the screen with an address and a picture of the man I’m going after.
My outfit might not be ideal for sneaking into homes and shanking motherfuckers, but this storm swirling inside me couldn’t be less bothered by my attire. I release the brake and press in the clutch, backing out of my parking spot before speeding off down the road toward this fucker’s house.
I’d like to say I’m surprised when I find myself on the east side of DC at a trap house. I park my car away from the house, but if this fucker has been locked up and without drugs, he’s most likely drugged out on a couch somewhere. Before stepping back into the cold, I place my thigh sheath on and hide a few extra knives in other areas for good measure.
The clicking of my heels on the sidewalk is the only sound, aside from a TV turned up too loud at my destination. The closer I get, the more violent the storm grows within. We don’t fuck with drugs; they make you stupid and paranoid—which is what motivated this motherfucker to talk.
Dad’s money might be dirty, but it won’t be affiliated with that poison, let alone someone who pushes it. I reach the house in no time and observe the outside. Maybe this street was worth something more than peddling poison once upon a time. Now it’s nothing more than dilapidated buildings barely holding on in the fall wind.
Making my way up the stairs to the front door, I use caution to avoid the crumbling concrete. Lining my foot properly with the door, I kick forward, and the door splinters under the force. There goes another pair of heels. Sneaking in and getting the job done might be smart, but I want a fight.
And I do things with an extra bang, anyway.
“Knock, knock,” I call out as men scramble to gather themselves after my sudden intrusion.
From where I stand, the inside of the house is no more put together than the outside. The pungent smell of black mold and piss tickles my nose, and I hold back a gag.
Trash is strewn around the entryway. There are three doors downstairs and a wooden staircase that leads to two more rooms on the second floor. The staircase was barely hanging on, with holes in every step and the banister hanging on the wall side.
A man stumbles out of the room to my right, where, based on the noise, I’m guessing the TV is located, and charges toward me. I pull a knife from my thigh and send it through the air. It lands with a satisfying thunk between his eyes. A woman screams to my left and runs to the fallen man, her steps wobbly before she falls to her knees beside him. Track marks litter her arm, and I purse my lips, disregarding her cries, and walk toward the TV room.
Pulling my pocket pistol from the safety of my cleavage, I fire a single shot into the screen to quiet the room. Turning, I meet the terrified gazes of two men hiding behind a broken couch.
“Orken, where is he?” I ask, pointing the gun at the men. I should’ve known the men in this house would cower before fighting me. One man stands, a piss stain clear on the front of his pants.
Well, that’s embarrassing.
With shaking arms, he raises his hands in surrender. ”B-b-basement,” the man stutters. I nod my head in appreciation before sending a bullet into his skull and his friend next to him. The woman screams again. My gaze snaps up to meet hers as she crawls as far away from me as possible.
Stepping through the threshold, I watch her with interest, tilting my head to the side when her back hits the wall, and she looks around frantically, trying to find an escape route in her drug-induced mind. I close the distance, wrapping her hair in my hand and tugging her onto her knees.
“How many are in the house?” I ask, pursing my lips as snot travels down the woman’s face.
It’s hard to tell if this one was beautiful once or not, with the hard drugs severely affecting her skin and teeth. She whimpers, and I tighten my hold, trying to coax a response out of her.
“Just five of us! Please, please let me go,” she begs.
“Is there an exit in the basement?”
The woman shakes her head violently. Orken likely heard the commotion up here with a house that could hold no secrets. There’s not a floor or a wall that doesn’t have a crack in it. I tuck my gun between my tits and unsheathe another knife. The woman blubbers when she registers that she won’t survive this despite her pleas.
“Surely you can understand that I can’t leave behind any loose ends, little duck,” I purr before slicing my blade across her throat. Blood splatters across my face. I stand and wipe my face with the back of my hand, letting her body drop to the floor as she grabs at her throat.
I search all the doors on the first floor, looking for the entry to the basement, to no avail. I thought they were bullshitting me until I saw a door hidden behind the opened kitchen doorway.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I singsong to myself, placing my hand on the handle. I pull my gun from my tits, preparing for the poison peddling nark to be on the other side when I open it.
Throwing the door open, I step aside, so I’m not in direct firing range if this guy is smarter than his buddies. I pout to myself when no one comes to play. Blowing out my cheeks, I search around the kitchen for something to throw down the stairs. I catch sight of a bar stool and send it down the stairs, staring down, looking for movement around the room as it barrels down.
The basement is poorly lit, but lucky for me, Orken was positioned in the light enough to put a shadow in my line of sight. Smiling to myself, I secure my gun once again and replace it with my favored weapon. I descend the stairs.