Page 51 of They Will Burn

I open my mouth to try to tell him that actually, that’s the literal line of succession, but his grip is too tight on my airway to get anything other than a gasp out.

“But don’t worry, cousin, once you’re out of the picture, we’ll take real good care of the business. Charles Davenport will pay a pretty penny for the territory and allow us to continue operating Hills Global.”

A choked laugh escapes my throat at how dumb the two of them truly are, which only seems to make him angrier, giving me the only chance I’m going to get to reach for the knife strapped against my thigh. My eyes dart to Michael, who is far too engrossed in his morning glass of liquor to notice my hand slide beneath my dress and produce the knife.

Before either of them can see the move coming, I slice Scott’s wrist so deep I hope I sever a fucking artery, and blood pours from the wound, down my neck and chest before he can recoil.

“What the fuck?” he splutters, pulling his hand against his chest with panicked eyes.

“Better get that looked at, cousin,” I sneer the same way he did. “Wouldn’t want to have to attend your funeral this week. I’ve got so much going on at the moment, I’m sure you understand.” Before he can respond, I turn on my heel and walk toward the door. “Neither of you are permitted on this floor any longer. If you want a position here, it’ll be in lower management.”

I don’t pause until I reach Bonnie’s desk, and her eyes flare with panic when she sees the blood I haven’t bothered to wipe away yet. Suddenly parking on the street doesn’t seem like such a good idea. “You can take the rest of the day off, Bonnie.”

Without another word, I make my way to the elevator and turn to face them just in time to see Michael rushing a panicked-looking Scott toward the elevator.

I hit the close door button and watch with a smile as they slide shut. I’m not so naive to think they’ll give up, but it felt really fucking good to stretch the muscles I spent so many years building.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

KOVU

There’s something about hunting for my prey that never gets old.

Even after all these years, the hunt is one of my favorite parts. Right after the bit where I make my victim bleed, of course.

Wyatt finally found Eric on a security camera just outside the city, and I wasted no time heading over to pick him up. Kaos’s blacked-out SUV idles on the curb as I watch him walk down the shady street. We’re outside the city, so this area is technically unclaimed territory, but a couple of the families do business out here.

The street is lined with decrepit, run-down houses, all of which he ignores as he looks over his shoulder. I wonder if he knows I’m hunting him. He had to have known by taunting me he was going to find himself on the receiving end of the monster even the bravest of men fear.

Everyone knows my reputation, my penance for tearing people limb from limb and leaving them for anyone working with them to find. It’s like a game of cat and mouse for me, if the cat were a raging psycho, that is.

I made peace with who I am a long time ago, and I stopped trying to change myself. I’m happy in my scarred skin, and now that I have my little lamb, I have everything I never knew I needed.

Eric crosses the street, and I watch as he turns up the next street.

He knows I’m here.

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I throw open my door.

Time to hunt.

The dark night sky allows me to stay in the shadows as I follow after him, keeping out of sight as he looks around for the predator he can sense but can’t see.

It’s a few minutes later that he shakes his head and murmurs something to himself. He thinks he’s imagining things, which means it’s finally time to strike.

I take an alley to my left and jog around the block, keeping my footsteps light even though there’s no one around. I have no idea what the hell he’s doing in this suburb at this time of night, but I have a feeling I probably don’t want to know either. There are some unsanctioned brothels around here that we occasionally check in on to ensure there’s no trafficked girls, but aside from that, it’s a whole lot of drug dens.

Once he’s back in my sight, I slow down, preparing the sedative as I walk toward him. His eyes are downcast on his phone, giving me the perfect element of surprise, and it’s not until I’m right in front of him that he finally looks up, his eyes wide with terror.

“Hi Eric.” I smile as I stab the needle into his throat, and when his knees hit the cold concrete as he loses consciousness, my smile only grows.

Now it’s time for the fun part.

By the time I make it back to the compound, Kaos is waiting for me in what the two of us have coined as the torture room, not that Crew or Bishop will get on board with the name.

They call it the interrogation room. Losers.

No one who steps foot in here is allowed back out into the world. They die here, usually with one of the two of us being the last thing they see before the devil drags them down to hell, where they belong.

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