Page 8 of The Cult

“It gets better. Wait till you start a family.” He nodded toward his own family. “Every day is like a holiday.”

Family. That word was surreal. I never knew how it felt to have one. I grew up in an orphanage until a family adopted me when I was almost ten years old. I’d waited every day for a family to pick me, but the joy I felt when a couple brought me to their home was short-lived. I’d thought my life would change then, for the better. I was so wrong.

I rubbed the tightness in my chest and redirected my thoughts to my future with Aurora.

Oliver squeezed my shoulder, understanding what my words failed to express. “This is your and Aurora’s moment now,” he whispered.

And I would cherish this moment for the rest of my life.

***

“This is the second-best day of my life,” Aurora whispered in my ear as we entered one of the white villas with a blue roof that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea off the cliffs of Santorini.

“Second-best day, huh?” I asked, pulling her against my body. “What was the first?” I raised an eyebrow, my sight never leaving her brown eyes.

“Meeting you,” she answered. “I love you.” She planted a soft kiss on my lips, before walking backward toward the opposite side of the room, slowly untying her floral sarong and letting it slide down her flawless tan skin, exposing her bright red bikini.

I strode toward her, grabbing her waist. My lips found hers and I poured my love for her into a kiss. “I love you too,” I breathed.

“We better get this honeymoon started then, since I only have you all to myself for three days.” Aurora faked a frown, but the pain it brought my heart was nothing compared to the genuine guilt of lying to her about my work. She couldn’t know what I did for a living. It was for her safety. As far as she knew, I was a medical equipment salesman, selling million-dollar machines and devices to hospitals worldwide. “Care to join me in the shower, Mr. Ryker?” Her sultry smile was a magnet, and I was metal too weak to resist the pull.

“Absolutely, Mrs. Ryker,” I replied. I set my guilt aside and cherished whatever little time we had where I didn’t have to worry about an assignment. Tonight, I was a husband and not an assassin.

***

Present Day

The chronicles of my fallen loved ones were etched on my skin, their lives honored with every stroke of ink. Each word told a story, every pattern symbolized a tragedy. Time would try to make me forget by deteriorating their memory, but whenever I glanced down at my ink-covered arms, their legacy remained. There was a saying that time healed all wounds. How much time would that be? Why did my heart still feel like breaking into pieces whenever I thought of my late wife? The rage brewing inside me colored my miserable world red. Fill your heart with revenge, I reminded myself. It was the only way to survive. I voided my heart of everything but wrath for my enemies.

The loud vroom of Archer’s bike cut through the wind noise from speeding at eighty miles per hour—the only speed I liked to drive. After the low-key weeks we’d had, I needed the surge of adrenaline. I glanced in the Mustang’s side-view mirror and found Archer and Heath about to overtake my place on the two-way stretch of highway. We were the only souls for miles at this wee hour of the morning. We’d been driving for twelve hours straight since we left Maine, only stopping for a quick bite and a piss. And, quite frankly, I could use a break. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one, because moments later, Heath, who was riding behind Archer, signaled to the right before pulling over to the side of the road.

I veered onto the shoulder off the interstate, the tires skidding and causing a plume of dust. “What’s up?” I asked the lovebirds when I got out of the car. I tilted my head sideways, releasing the tension that had gathered around my neck. I didn’t know if it was from driving or my concern about Oliver and his family.

Not knowing what we were up against, we’d asked Zero, one of the finest hackers on the planet, to dig up any useful information she could find about the cult in Wyoming and their leader named Orcus. He was a ruthless man and a master manipulator, according to Oliver. “That guy wants me dead,” Oliver once told me over the phone.

I didn’t doubt Zero’s skills, but after hours of radio silence, my worry was beginning to consume me, and I hated the feeling of helplessness.

Halfway through the short distance between my car and Archer’s bike, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Zero. Thank fuck for that. “What do you got?” I asked, skipping pleasantries.

She chuckled. “Jesus, are y’all like that? How about a ‘hi’ or ‘hello’? I’d even take ‘kiss my ass’ at this point.”

She was right. We were fucking jerks. Oh well, it was too late to change now, but I guessed I could try. “Umm … hello there …?” I said hesitantly. How could two words sound so awkward?

“Was that a question?” she asked, testing my patience. I was about to tell her to fuck off when she continued, “This guy Orcus is clean.”

That wasn’t good. I was prepared to hear anything but that. “How clean?”

“Too clean,” she added. Now we’re getting somewhere. In all the years I’d spent with The Firm, I knew that no one or nothing was that clean. “Lucky for you …” Zero trailed off; clicking sounds from her keyboard carried through my cell. “I can spot the tiniest of crumbs from a mile away.”

Music to my ear. “Atta girl.” Everyone had a history, and nothing buried was gone forever. All you had to do was know how to look at what was just beneath the surface.

“I’ll send you an encrypted email, just in case someone’s on to us.” It was an extra precaution we took, a skill for survival.

“Thanks, Zero.”

“You bet. Tell the lovebirds I said hi.”

“I will.”

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