Page 151 of Princes of Carnage

“I think it’s empty,” I tell him. “And even if it’s not, I think this is our best chance to figure out who the fuck this guy is and what he wants.”

Killian nods in agreement. “We can get in and out before he gets back. And if there’s anyone inside…” He cracks his knuckles. “We’ll deal with that when we come to it.”

We wait for a couple more tense minutes to make sure Silas is really gone. Then we don our masks and make our way stealthily toward the house. The whole building is dark and quiet now, looking just as sleepy and peaceful as every other house on the block.

“Back door,” Killian murmurs decisively. “No one can see it from the road.”

Nico and I nod, and we start our operation. I slip around back first, my gun drawn, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for sounds of anyone lying in wait, my gaze scanning the back of the house for any sign of obvious security cameras. Once I’m satisfied there’s no one waiting to ambush us, I signal for Killian and Nico to join me.

They do, moving quietly as shadows along the pathway that leads around to the back of Silas’s house. We stare up at the windows we can see, looking for signs of movement.

Nothing.

“Get the door,” Nico whispers.

Killian nods and steps past us both, going to the back door. It has both a knob lock and a deadbolt, and he gazes down at them as he fishes something out of his pocket.

“You got this?” Nico asks as we flank him on either side, keeping a lookout.

“Yup.”

Killian’s one-word answer is all that’s needed. Honestly, Nico probably didn’t even have to ask the question. We’ve seen Killian pick dozens of locks over the years, and he’s both skilled and fast. I know he broke into a ton of homes when he was surviving on the street after that shit went down with his mom. He didn’t have anyone to look out for him after the person who should’ve loved him most betrayed him, so just like Nico and I did, he learned to look out for himself, doing whatever it took to survive.

And this particular skill has come in handy more than once since the three of us formed Carnage.

It takes less than two minutes for Killian to take care of both locks. He steps back from the door, and Nico opens it and pushes it inward carefully. Whatever this back room is, it’s dark, and he flips on a small light, shining it around quickly as he checks for cameras.

“One,” he murmurs. He darts forward and moves to the camera, quickly covering it.

There’s a chance it caught him on film, but we’re all masked up, so there’s no way Silas will be able to tell it’s us if he sees the footage, or if there are any cameras we missed.

Nico does another sweep and then whistles low twice. The signal that it’s all clear.

Killian and I move inside the house, closing the door behind us.

We don’t turn on any lights, instead using small flashlights to poke around. It seems like we’re in a small storage room of sorts, with a short flight of steps leading up to the main part of the house.

“Split up, but don’t go far,” Nico whispers. “Look for anything we can use to help us figure out what he’s up to.”

The two of us split off from him, sweeping through the first floor first.

It doesn’t seem like Silas has really tried to hide anything, so he must have been decently confident that no one would ever track him back here—or he just felt sure he could handle the threat if someone did.

Either way, we find weapons packed in canvas bags in one room, which I’m guessing are the supplies he picked up from Smith’s pawn shop. There’s a rolled up leather case with an assortment of knifes, and a hooked, wicked looking blade catches my eye. My jaw clenches at the memory of Jeremiah sprawled out in that alley, the sides of his mouth gashed open.

Is that the weapon Silas used?

Anger fills me, and I half hope that Silas will return unexpectedly and give us no other option but to try to take him out tonight. I know Nico wants to be sure we’re getting to the root of the problem, not just chopping off one head of what could be a many-headed snake, but fuck it. I’m hungry for blood.

Once we finish combing through the first floor, we move upstairs.

Again, a sweep turns up no sign of anyone hiding, and the house is sparsely decorated and minimal. It’s the kind of house that someone with no attachments lives in, no sign of who Silas is other than a paid killer.

We sort through anything we can find, opening drawers and boxes and closets, careful not to make too much of a mess but leaving no stone unturned. The upper part of the house doesn’t have any clues as obvious as the first floor, and we don’t turn up much of anything after several minutes of searching.

But then Killian speaks up from another room.

“Guys. Come in here,” he calls quietly, his voice tense.

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