Page 36 of Fractured Onyx

But there's no honor in these achievements if they've been built on my brother's back.

I could never let it rest, and I never would have. There was not a moment of doubt when the opportunity presented itself, when the police came knocking at my door, accompanied by the man named Bowlan, the super wealthy hypnotist who has made a name for himself in recent years.

To say that I was surprised when they told me what they suspected my brother to be up to, would be understatement.

To say that I was proud of him doesn't even come close to the truth.

What he planned to do would have ruined his life for good, and in that sense I guess you could say it was a stupid idea.

But it was fucking brilliant and honorable just as much. Not that the police would agree, but who cares about them, right?

I watch as my brother dotes on the girl he kidnapped to carry out the mission that was supposed grant him redemption and a long overdue revenge. The girl who was supposed to be a means to an end and nothing more, trained within the shortest time to become a seductive assassin.

I admire that. I know it wasn't his intention, but when he told me that he wanted to train her to serve his purpose, I can honestly say I've never felt more connected to him than I did in that very moment.

Because I didn't know we shared that trait.

I didn't know he had it in him, just like I do. That dark need to possess, to control and to be served by a cute little doll who can't help herself.

I never told him about it. I never told him that it's my life to make them dance. It's a sinister secret I've managed to keep for myself—just like many others.

Nate may think that he's the black sheep of the family. The rotten seed that could never bear a sweet fruit.

But boy is he wrong about that.

He may have been the criminal on paper. The man who took a girl from her life and then trained her to become his, albeit involuntarily. I always knew one thing about him: he likes to take control.

And so do I.

But what I do goes further than anything he could ever imagine, I'm sure.

I don't just train.

I don't just own.

I don't just take control.

I make them dance. I attach the strings, cutting deep into their skin, impossible for them to remove. They give themselves to me of their own free will, but once I've sunk my teeth into them, once the binds are attached, there's nowhere for them to go.

They belong to me. They march to my will.

And they can't leave until I let them.

They're dolls to me, easy to bend, easy to break.

And I'll make sure that no one outside that ominous world will ever learn the name they call me. The name that makes their hearts beat with desire and their skin tickle with sweet fear. The name that has made me a legend, the name they speak in hushed voices and with craving lacing every syllable.

They call meThe Puppetmaster.

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