Page 7 of Brutal Empire

This seemed to appease him. Two years ago, at Sekten’s last meet, I began to distance myself from Daphne—well, at least in public. I needed his trust now more than ever. Drugs were no longer the number one illegal trade—flesh was.

It was the whole reason why I’d landed in this world in the first place. So young and naïve I had been. Just a spoiled rich kid thinking his money could make people bow down. Money was insufficient, and people like Damian liked to bury their problems six feet deep underground.

“She might think my life is in danger,” I said casually as I fixed my suit.

He smirked. It was brief, but it was there. For the longest time, he had been trying to catch her on a lie. He wanted her dead, yet he never made a move to harm her directly. As if he needed some sort of absolute proof before killing her off. He was waiting, and like all predators, he was ready for that moment when his prey fucked up, and sooner or later, Daphne would. It was human nature—no one was perfect.

I was waiting for the plane to take off, thinking it would just be the two of us, but someone else walked in. The mane of brown curls was the first thing I saw, and it was enough to ruin my day.

Francesca walked in. She looked more like a model than a killer, but then again, the Sekt was very selective about whom they let in. Looks got you further in life than skills. It was sad but true. The poor girl was delusional. She thought because she was fucking Damian, she was now above the rest of us—she thought herself a queen.

“Francesca, don’t you look beautiful today?” I smiled and winked at her.

She loved the attention, and Damian didn’t care who gave it to her. She, like everyone else, was a pawn in the game he had been playing. She went straight for his lap, and he let her because she stroked his ego and sucked his dick.

Sooner or later, she would die, and I couldn’t wait for that day.

“So, where are we going?” she asked Damian, and I pretended like it was of no interest to me. Damian led, and I followed.

“Mexico,” he told her as the plane began to take off.

The asshole had sent me away there for about two years, and now he wanted me to go back? I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this. The only reason he would want to go there was that he needed access to the borders there.

Daphne knew enough. This had been our plan all along for me to be included in Damian’s circle. When I first joined, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but after every betrayal I gave Daphne, Damian pulled me closer. Looking too deeply at the fucker, I remember the lashes I was forced to give her, all in hopes that he would trust me enough. Now, here I was.

“And Texas,” he said as he turned to look at me.

My head turned his way slightly, and I grinned. “Great. It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

I took off one day and never returned. People knew who I was. I had made a name for myself, and my looks weren’t easily forgotten.

Damian looked at me as if he was privy to a secret I didn’t know. But I did. I knew that damn secret all too well, but I pretended like I didn’t. I knew he was responsible for my fiancée’s death. His hands were the ones stained with red, not just for her but for countless little boys, girls, and women like her.

He was responsible for the most fucked-up day of my life. It had been something I had suspected the more I worked side by side with him, but the moment Daphne found that chat room, the pieces began to fall together.

* * *

Seven yearsago

I grew up believing that money could solve all problems. Did you get too many speeding tickets? Throw some money on it. Drunk driving and want to keep it under wraps? Throw some money on it. The school your parents wanted you to attend wouldn’t accept you because you slacked off, and now your GPA is not on par with their standards? Throw some fucking money on it.

Money opened thousands of doors; it made people want to kneel and kiss your ass. No one had integrity anymore.

But what happened when throwing money on it wasn’t enough? That was what happened when my fiancée went missing.

Being a Kingsley meant nothing. The police didn’t look any harder, and the media’s coverage wasn’t enough. Soon enough, I discovered it was all part of an inside job. Tragedies happened daily, and people were used to moving from one to the next. The media had really started to desensitize all of us to the fucked-up world we lived in. Governments knew the most fucked-up things that happened to their people but didn’t dare utter a word because panic would ensue. But they did use the people for their own gain.

The more I searched for Katia, the more loopholes I found. In one of those loopholes, I saw death staring back at me, and it sickened me the way those eyes saw right through me.

Money could not find me justice, but it got me some answers, and with these answers came access to one of the most disgusting trades in the world.

Human livestock.

I found myself front and center in New York, waiting for the show of a lifetime to begin. I was so young and dumb that I didn’t know what to expect, but I thought throwing money on it would spare a life or two. Money came and went, but life didn’t, so what was losing a few mil?

My plan seemed foolproof, but then everything changed.

I was ready to bid on a woman when someone pulled me back. When I turned, I didn’t see anything, but then they tugged at my arm, and it took me a second to realize that I just had to look down.

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