Page 4 of Rugger: The Huntress

Soon.

Very soon.

The soundproof walls that had been part of the luxury highrise’s selling point proved beneficial. Lionel’s overpriced condo had been his resting place for quite some time now. Without a doubt, I knew he was comfortable, which made leaving him alone much easier.

Slowly, I stepped out into the hallway, sure to close the door behind me. My legs stretched continuously to reach the elevator in a matter of seconds. Moving hastily wasn’t a concern of mine. It was proven to be one of the first signs of guilt.

A specific cadence began in my head. Instead of belting the lyrics, I pushed air from the tiny hole I formed with my lips.

My lover’s got humor.

She’s the giggle at a funeral.

Knows everybody’s disapproval.

Should’ve worshiped her sooner.

When I reached the common area, I pressed the elevator button and took two steps backward. As I waited, I removed the outdated phone from my trench and pressed the number two. The call was connected, immediately.

“Listening.”

Range’s voice appeared on the line before the phone had the chance to ring. The hairs stood on the back of my neck. Calls to my siblings never went unanswered. Because of my occupation, I didn’t take a single pickup for granted.

Not every day was promised. If God hadn’t made that clear, seeing me would. Knowing they were all above ground and breathing raised my skin with fine, painful bumps.

“Clean up, Project 182,” I explained before ending the call.

She was near. Always was. And before I could get my feet into the car that had been staged for me, she’d be inside the home of one of the people responsible for the capture of my brother,our leader, and the only man who had my heart.

Richie was gone. The pieces he’d collected over the years had been given to a man just as great. Just as deserving. Just as respected.

Ding.

I stepped forward and onto the elevator where I was met by a woman with coffee in one hand and the leash for her dog in the other.

“Good evening,” cheerfully, she greeted me.

Her Chanel frames were darling, forcing me to contemplate removing them from her face or tasking myself with the online search for a pair just like them.

Rugger.

Behind my black Prada shades, I closed my eyes.

Snap. Snap.

Our family’s code of conduct quickly gathered me as the sound of Chem’s snapping fingers lured me back to the task at hand.

Focus, baby.

A tilt of my head led to the sound of popping bones. My neck was relieved instantly, and so was I. The weight of theft waslifted from my palette of very distinctive, very peculiar feelings. I pushed them all aside as confusion began to haunt me.

“Hi,” she spoke, again, this time with a nod. Her eyes never left me.

Maybe it was because I towered over her at least an entire foot.

Maybe it was because I was dressed in black from head to toe.

Maybe it was because my skin was as dark as tar.

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