Page 8 of Rising from the Ashes

As I step back to admire him, Silas reaches his hand for me with fear overtaking his dark brown eyes as his last garbled breath escapes his mouth, as though it is his last attempt to beg me to save him.

“I’m sorry, but you chose to make an example out of me. So, I need to send a message with you.”

His arm stays frozen in position as I pull the small piece of paper from my pocket, clasping his still warm fingers around the note.

“Let the haunting begin…”

Chapter three

Calista

E: I need you to take out a new target. Sign into the interface and accept your new assignment.

Cal: Yes, Queen.

E: Good girl.

Rolling my eyes, I glance at the top corner of my phone to see what time it is.

7 a.m.

I know this bitch does not think I am going to murder someone before coffee and breakfast.

Throwing the covers off of my naked body, I feel the delicious soreness after last night’s rendezvous with Silas, even reveling in the stinging pain from the flesh wound the armed guard’s bullet caused. Instead of going to medical for something so miniscule, I stitched myself up at home in the bunker. A self-taught skill, after obtaining many battle scars between training with The Guardians and hunting my hits at night these past few months.

Still reeling from the success of eliminating Silas, I clamber over to my dresser. I wish I could have seen my father’s reaction to losing his right hand man, but I had to become scarce once more armed men started showing up.

Picking up the tablet, I swipe my finger across the fingerprint reader and type in the password after it accepts my print. Holding up the tablet as the red light scans my eyes, I wait for it to turn green as the welcome message flashes across the screen. Clicking on the red notification in the corner, a profile pops up with a familiar face: Craig Demassi. The head of the Demassi family.

He and my father have an extensive history. They were partners in an organization deemed the Fourth Circle by the citizens of Edinburgh. They worked with two other men, Dante Reign and Dimitri Parshikov. These four men cultivated a plan almost fourteen years ago to take over Raventown. I never found out the reason, but my father and Dimitri did not follow through with Demassi’s plan. So the destruction did not equate near the amount of tragedy it could have.

Dante Reign was killed in the attacks fourteen years ago. I firmly believe it was karma that did him in. All of the lives he had ruined over the years finally caught up with him.

Dimitri ran away to Boston to escape being associated with such a betrayal against his Bratva brigade’s code of honor.

Last year, Dimitri returned to Edinburgh to cause more destruction. From what I gathered from eavesdropping on conversations with my father and his men, he grew impatient that he had not yet been promoted to Pakhan of his brigade and greed overtook him. He, my father, and Demassi teamed up again to bring in a huge shipment of military grade ammunition to stock the street gangs of Edinburgh with enough weapons to start a crime war within the city.

The night ended with the shipment and docks being blown up, and Dimitri being killed by Drake Reign, the heir and CEO of Vanguard Enterprises. He is known for being just like his father, so when the news broke that Reign is the one who stopped the attacks and became Edinburgh’s hero, it was shocking.

Demassi may have partnered with my father, but it was all part of my father’s plan. Enzo wanted Demassi off the playing field so he could take more control of the docks. Demassi has been running crank and ammunition through the streets of Edinburgh, turning our city into a cancerous warzone. Not that my father actually cared about Demassi’s enterprises; he just wants more power.

Offing Demassi will leave the docks open for the taking by other smaller organizations in the city, but if the Society can win the auction against my father, at least then two thirds of the docks will be protected from his vile plan.

Perusing the file, I notice skills required: archery, persuasion.

Ah. There it is.

She wants me to torture him first. Probably to find out where the next weapons buy in is happening.

Well, if torture is what she wants, torture I can do.

I smirk to myself as my clit throbs, getting excited at the thought of another hit. What I do has become like a drug. The adrenaline I get when taking a dirty crook off the board is a high that I continue to chase every night, and it’s one step closer to disbanding my father’s crime ring.

I chose archery as a skill because of its uniqueness and the message I wanted to convey.

Fear.

Until I began training, I didn’t realize the patience and control you need to have to yield a weapon as powerful and strong as a bow. It’s more than just aiming at a target and praying you hit it. It takes precision and focus.

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