Page 57 of Tainted Reasoning

We go silent and switch on the intercoms in our ears. Like lions creeping slowly up on their prey, we make strides through the trees toward our target – a dimly lit house in front of us. It’s old and a little run down. The perfect ghost house for Lord West’s activities. I shudder as I think about the number of girls whose last view of the outside world was this building.

“Guard at eleven o’clock.” Nicholas’ voice comes through the intercom in my ear.

“Got him.”

“Take him,” my brother orders.

The guard is around the side of the building, having a crafty cigarette. He can’t be seen by the other guards on lookout. I pull my knife from its holder on my trousers, and before he has a chance to notice, I’m next to him and have sliced through his throat.

“Shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for your health in more ways than one,” I tell him as he falls to the ground dead.

Dragging him, I deposit the body out of sight. Nicholas and I then press our bodies closely to the wall and shuffle around the building toward an entrance we’d examined earlier on Google maps. What a wonderful invention, but there’s no privacy in the world any longer.

My feet shuffle, and I hit something heavy. I stop abruptly, and Nicholas knocks into the back of me. Looking down, I realize it’s another body.

“What is it?” Nicholas asks.

“A body?” Not quite understanding. There’s little light in the area, but through my goggles, I can make out a gunshot wound in his head.

“What?”

“Looks like a guard.” I examine his clothing and see a knife attached to his trousers.

“Did you kill him?” Nicholas asks.

“No. You saw me deposit the guy I killed in the bushes over there.”

“Someone must have pissed West off. Pretty messy clean up if you ask me.”

“Maybe he’s busy and will sort it out later?” The second the words leave my mouth, they turn my stomach because I don’t want to think what he’s doing to Tamara in the house. “Let’s worry about it later. I want to get inside.”

“Keep leading,” Nicholas orders, and we peer around the side of the building.

“I’ve got two talking,” I tell Nicholas.

He peaks over my shoulder.

“Confirmed.”

“Shoot, or try to take them out in person?”

“Person. It’s quieter and less chance of missing.”

“Agreed.”

On my count,” Nicholas starts. “Three…two…”

“Fuck.” I exclaim as a bright light illuminates the garden area, and our hiding place is discovered. We both rip off the night vision glasses and bring our guns up ready to shoot. It’s no use, though, as I can’t see a thing.

“Your Grace, Earl Lullington.” A man steps forward, and I get ready to fire, but we’re both quickly captured, and our weapons along with our earpieces are removed.

“If you’d follow me.” The man indicates the path we are to take. I have a guard behind me and two on either side – Nicholas has the same. I’m not restrained, and I look to my brother for orders. His face is a mix of deep thought and concern. With a nod of his head, he signals we are to see where we are led, for now. I don’t doubt it will be to see West, and where West is Tamara will be, so I’ll happily oblige, for now.

I’m mentally bracing myself for the state I’ll find Tamara in. I wear my emotions with no filter, but I can’t show them to her. She’ll need the strength the monster inside me imparts when I first see her. I can’t show weakness. We enter through a small door into what I suspect is the lounge. The building is incredibly run down – the ornate paintings and wall hangings are littered with spider webs, and there is enough dust covering the gothic sculptures on antique wooden furniture to write my name in. This place hasn’t been inhabited in years. It’s unloved – a place where the terrors are real. I control my emotions with a deep breath while we wait for the door to open. What I don’t expect on the other side is Lord West on his hands and knees with two guards on either side of him. He has a gun pointed at his head, and two men lie already executed on the floor in the corner of the room with blood pooling around them. Tamara sits on a sofa wrapped in a blanket. There are newly forming bruises on her face, which is wet with a mixture of fresh tears and blood. Her beautiful, long hair has been cut short.

“William.” She tries to get to her feet when she sees me, but her legs are wobbly, and she sinks back down. I look to the man who led us here. He motions for me to go to her. I do so and wrap my arms around her.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

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