Page 65 of The Cult

“It could be an isolated case. A burglary gone wrong,” El Jefe, our leader, had said. That was a possibility, but my gut was telling me it wasn’t. I had nothing to tie her murder to The Firm, and each lead I discovered steered me to a roadblock. I downed another splash. My eyelids grew heavy, yet I remained alert, fixated on the door. Frustration gnawed at me, so I fired shots, leaving holes as they pierced the door.

As I gulped another slush of vodka, memories of the day I joined The Firm surged. El Jefe had approached me on a questionable street in Detroit when I was in my early twenties. I’d been involved in a fist fight with a guy who stole my bag—my only possession. It wasn’t much, but for someone who lived on the street and had to dumpster-dive for food, my backpack was everything. I learned how to fight for survival. Hand-to-hand combat was my specialty. With my strength, youth, and love for the warmth of fire, I was a force to be reckoned with. I also had nothing to lose, which made me deadly. Aside from staying alive in the underbelly of the streets’ lawless order, I used my vigor and reputation to help others from falling victim to the worst of the worst, but a young guy like me could only do so much. I couldn’t be everyone’s savior.

Unbeknown to me, El Jefe had been scouting me for months. He told me that he saw my potential and recruited me to join an elite group of assassins called The Firm. It took me a year to learn who they really were and, by then, I wasn’t willing to give up the life they provided for a future back on the street. So, without hesitation, I accepted my first assignment and completed the mission with flying colors.

Killing was hard to stomach at first, but eventually I became numb. I’d followed the rules when I was younger and that got me nowhere. With The Firm, I felt alive. Having someone’s fate in my hands was exhilarating. I wasn’t the weak prey everyone had picked on, but a predator everyone feared.

The shrill ring of my cellphone disrupted the silence in the room and the chaos of my inebriated thoughts. Oliver’s name illuminated the screen. “Go the fuck away,” I yelled, the walls echoing my words, a reminder of how empty my house was—mirroring my heart. The buzzing persisted. “I said, Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone.” I downed the rest of the bottle then threw it against the wall, where it bounced to the floor then shattered.

The cell rang for the third time. My irritation and fury intensified. This time, I answered. “What?”

Oliver’s voice trembled with urgency. “Tobias, I need your help. This place is bad news, man.”

I was caught in a whirlwind of intoxication, frustration, anger, helplessness, and self-pity. “Can’t—” I cleared the frog in my throat. “I can’t help. Busy,” I slurred, hiccuping. I hung up the phone and tossed the annoying device onto the sofa next to me. I closed my eyes to relieve the pain in my temple.

The phone buzzed again. Judging by the light outside, hours must have passed. I stood but fell on my knees after two steps. My head bobbed when I tried to steady myself. The world turned hazy. I crawled to the sofa and answered the call just to stop that piercing noise that grated my senses.

“We made a mistake coming here, Tobias. It wasn’t worth Orcus’s promises. They’re after me, and I don’t know where to go. Please, you’re the only one I can trust.”

I heard Oliver’s voice, but his words didn’t register through my drunken stupor. When I woke up the following morning, the night before was obscured by the vodka fog and I didn’t remember much.

I was on my own. Again.

After a few more days of feeling sorry for myself, a switch flipped one evening and I’d had enough wallowing. I dealt with the mess of what Aurora’s death left behind the only way I knew how. Avoiding the bed I hadn’t slept in for weeks, I grabbed two duffel bags from the closet and stuffed one to the brim with my clothes. Next, I steered to the safe, entered the code, then packed all of my guns and ammo in the other bag. I pocketed a small detonator from the safe, and finally grabbed the framed picture of our wedding on my way out. Everything else in this house held no value. Not anymore.

I headed to the kitchen next and turned the four gas burners on before setting the timer of the detonator to sixty seconds. I raced outside and leaped into my truck, my foot slamming down on the gas pedal. A bright explosion flashed in the rearview mirror, burning the home I had built with Aurora to the ground.

***

I ran my hands over the cool earth under me, feeling rough dirt and rocks to keep me grounded. Just as despair began to settle in, a vivid memory of Abel’s face flashed in my mind, emerging like a beacon of light amid the stormy sea, reminding me of what I had to do.

I stood abruptly. I had to get to Abel before he did something stupid, even if it meant confronting the demons that lurked in the dark recesses of my own mind.

Determination fueled my steps as I sprinted toward the path we’d traveled earlier, sliding over dirt as I rushed downhill. Planning mode kicked in and a strategy was formulating in my head. As I delved deeper into the heart of the woods, a familiar silhouette dashed between the trees in front of me. I sighed in relief. I could salvage this situation if I could get him to listen to me. I’d tie him down if I had to.

Twenty-Eight: Abel

Iwas in disbelief. Tobias didn’t care if we lived or died. I couldn’t believe he wanted me to abandon my friends—who had become my family—to save my own skin. Not gonna happen! If there was one beautiful thing that came out of this fucking place, it was the trust we had for each other, the product of our shared trauma. We were willing to sacrifice everything for a normal life outside this prison. I should run to get back and wake the guys, tell them what we were up against. Maybe Two and Seven could convince the others to move our plan forward; to fight back and escape like they’d been orchestrating for years. Long before I was brought into the group.

I wanted to be enraged with Tobias, but picturing his distressed face when I told him about Dad made my feet feel as though they were made of lead. His anguish haunted me. The words came out of my lips as a necessity. They were verbal arrows aimed at disarming him long enough for me to escape. I hadn’t expected him to retreat the way he did, like a shattered man.

My steps faltered. “Damn him!” I stopped running and slammed a tree with my palm, over and over. My chest heaved. Our only connection to the rest of the guys outside the cult’s Restricted Zone was the same person who didn’t give a shit about us. “Fuck him!” He didn’t deserve my compassion. “Don’t be selfish!” Tobias had said. He was the selfish one. I succumbed to my weakening knees and sat down.

The cold numbed my fingertips. I blew warm air on them before balling my hands into fists to keep them warm. Tucking my head between my legs, I was suddenly overwhelmed by Tobias’s scent. I’d forgotten I was wearing his shirt. I pulled the fabric closer to my face and inhaled deeply; his smell was sweet, comforting, and warm.

What are we going to do now? We were nowhere near ready to strike back at Orcus and his minions, but if what Tobias had told me about our fate was true, then we were running out of time.

I heard the rustling of leaves before the ground vibrated from pounding footsteps, getting closer and closer. The sound stopped in front of me. I didn’t bother looking up.

“I’m glad I caught you,” Tobias said.

“What do you want?” My question was met with silence. I waited for him to respond, but when seconds passed and nothing but the whistling wind whipped by us, I dared to glance up.

Tobias towered over me, his mismatched face studying mine. He held a shiny lighter in his right hand, toying with the lid absently. “Can I?” he asked, pointing to the spot next to me. If I hadn’t seen his mouth move when he said those words, I would’ve thought they were coming from someone else. He seemed unsure, his swagger missing.

I nodded. I’d developed a soft spot for Tobias, and it wasn’t from the forbidden acts we had shared. It was the way he always made sure I was safe and sound, like the selfless way he’d offered his shirt to keep me warm. Who would do that for someone they barely knew?

Tobias sat next to me, his warmth engulfing our space. “Look at me,” he ordered. I ignored his command. “Abel, look at me.” He reached for my chin, guiding my head to face him. “Please?” The tenderness of his touch seeped through his calloused hand.

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