Page 160 of Manacled Hearts

“Watch, darling.” I nod toward the screen.

Bright green light flares on the feed as shots are fired, and Evelyn shrieks when the bullets hit the men, one by one caught in a frenzied attack.

“Wait, why aren’t they fighting back?” she asks, her tone slow as she stops listening to her emotions and reads the scene before her. “Are they…?”

“Dead,” I confirm before the question is asked. “They’re shooting their own men. Ones we killed earlier.”

“Bait,” she whispers.

I nod watching the scene as it calms and confusion sets in. Putting the car back into gear I set off again, and Evelyn gasps just as the camera feed turns white with the flames that engulf the warehouse. Then it all goes black.

“What was that?”

“A culling,” I answer. “We planted a seed that we have Frankie B.”

“But he’s dead.”

“Aye. But his dear father has no reason to believe that. The beach was spotless clean within the hour. No bodies, no crime. All he would have known is that he stupidly came to get you, and disappeared. There’s not much of a stretch from there to believing we protected you. But this was just a ruse, and we knew Bartiste would know that his son wouldn’t be there. He thought he was going to kill us in our own ambush, but we used it to relieve him of some of his army. Sloan’s men are in the perimeter, cleaning out the leftovers.”

Sirens wail as we turn into another side street on our way out of Queenscove. It sounds like a fire engine, likely going toward the explosion we just caused, but I still don’t want to attract attention with all these bullet holes piercing the car and the busted front.

“When we devised the plan, we were worried Bartiste wouldn’t give a shit about his son. We didn’t know anything about him until you told us. We thought he just popped up in the picture, like some bastard son. If that was the case, his emotional connection to the kid wouldn’t have been strong enough. But one of our more recent captives shed some light on the situation after we tempted him with his family’s demise. We wouldn’t kill innocents unless attacked, but the poor idiot didn’t know that.”

“Jesus… is he still alive? Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.” She exhales a heavy breath and shakes her head. “So what about Frankie?”

“His mother was Bartiste’s ex. Not married, but a long-time partner. Abusive relationship from the sounds of it, and she took a page out of her baby daddy’s book and disappeared, along with little Frankie. But it turns out that some evil is inherited, because in his early teens, the son forced them out of hiding. He sought his dad and swore his allegiance to him. Bartiste took the mom captive, but apparently was reluctant to trust him. Though, he was also desperate to have his kid back. After all, he was the heir to his disgusting kingdom, and already he showed signs to be as cruel as his daddy. He also became Bartiste’s weakness, so he kept him hidden for a long time. This was still happening at the time Bartiste came to Queenscove last time.”

She knows which time I mean now, I don’t need to explain. Evelyn doesn’t say a word, simply waits for me to continue, and I find that, after all I confessed to her, those memories from eight years ago feel… a little more distant. Not like fresh wounds any longer.

“The guy said that Frankie himself told some of his story. He saw what happened to his dad, what we did to him. He was the one who tracked him down in the hospital, he probably knew of the alias his dad would use. That’s when the son nursed his broken father back to health, and stepped up in the business. He proved himself to his father, and to cement his commitment to the cause he killed his own mother. Stabbed her.”

“Christ, that’s personal. I mean—” Evelyn sighs. “A gun is quicker.”

“Agreed. Frankie didn’t just prove himself, he showed his father he’s just like him. Which is how we were quite sure our plan would work.”

“Rather ironic that Frankie died the same way he killed his mother.” There’s a tinge of amusement curling her lips. “Why wouldn’t Bartiste just think his son is dead, since you captured him?”

“Carter. After planting the seed, Bartiste, or rather one of his men, contacted us. Proof of life was requested, and our resident genius created a deep fake using AI technology, and gave him the proof.”

I chuckle at the memory. I saw it. It was fucking good. I didn’t even try to understand how Carter did it.

“He can do that? Why does Carter know how to mess with artificial intelligence tech?”

“Amongst other things, for the exact reason why he used it. In case someone does this, or other things, to us, he can learn how to spot it. Reverse the process. Fight back.”

“Jesus… I must admit, he does scare me a little.” she says running her fingers through her deep violet hair, “I guess we’re lucky the man is on our side.”

“Yeah. We’re all well aware. We’re even luckier The Carver is on our side.”

“That’s his nickname, right? What do you mean?”

“The man studies medieval torture methods as light reading. You’ve seen how brutal, how dangerous Madds can be. Carter is… different. He’s silent in his brutality, a different kind of predator, but he feeds on life-force. On screams. On pain. And tears. And as the name suggests… he carves.”

She grimaces at the mental image.

“Would he ever betray you since he’s so… cold?”

“Never. I’m not sure if he can love. Maybe in his own way. But loyalty is important to him.”

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