Page 46 of Natural-Born Cullers

Brennan tossed his pen on the table. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the decisions I made over hurting Jack, Jan, and Martin aren’t reversible—” Jan was wrong: it hadn’t been his fault. Only Gray’s. “—but neither are yours when it comes to dealing with what originally brought me into the MC as a culler: any potential secrets you and your masters spilled between the bedsheets. You can ask for an apology, to which I’ll tell you what I told my father: that I’ll never apologise for the decisions I have to take, but I will apologise when I’m proven wrong along the way. Which the MC did, multiple times, if we’re counting. But none of that is going to change the decisions you’ve already made on my position as a Dom within the MC: you’ll uphold the blacklisting. So that means that my position as a Master Dom or Jack’s carer isn’t why Doctor Halliday is here evaluating me today, is it?”

“Okay,” Brennan said flatly. “Tell me why youthinkyou’re here today and let’s see if I get the pleasure of seeing you fuck up, Gray. Again.”

Swearing? Now thatwasunusual. Gray frowned, just slightly. Then he glanced at Halliday.

“You have a question you’d like to ask me, Doctor? I’ll allow you one.” He narrowed his eyes slightly at Halliday. “Because I’m assuming Shaun is looking for a way to propose interdepartmental liaison and potential political immunity in future with the cullers, but that proposal is based solely on your assessment here and what I say the Crown will permit.”

Brennan offered a smile, but something else played behind it.

“Actually,” said Halliday, easing forward, “I have two questions. But I’m not sure the second will find a way to voice itself.” He tilted his head. “May I have your permission to ask the first one?”

Gray frowned. Permission? That was such an… odd request. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’re actually interested in my participation in a Q-and-A discussion or simply my willingness to start one with you.” Gray looked him over. “You once said knowledge simply means to know the ledge you walk. A psychopath knows how to walk many: it’s why we always talk in ‘paths’ with them. So by giving you my… permission to ask a question, it mostly shows a drive to walk and play down your path with you for a while, where I may only give you what you want to hear. And in that case, would you ever really trust a reply I give? Would it benefit either of us by stepping into a Q-and-A discussion today?”

Halliday offered a small smile. “No, you’re right. I have no interest in walking that Q-and-A path with you today.” He lightly tapped his fingertip on the table. “Thank you for humouring me for a moment, though, Gray. That was the evaluation.” He took a sip of water. “See knowledge will tell you which path to walk, instinct drives you along it, but it’s the capacity to step back and reason that opens up the futility of walking a pathway that offers no exit. Few psychopaths would see the dead-end walkway associated with the latter. They’d walk it anyway for the thrill. It’s good to see you’re able to reason and step back when it comes to the futility of discussion between us two.”

Gray returned the small smile. Yeah, always mind games with men like Halliday.

“I hope you take no offence over my candour with regards towhyhere,” added Halliday. “Because where I can understand the potential behind the Crown offering you a professional playground on their behalf, being in favourofthe death penalty is completely different to signing the papersforit. No one should ever be given that responsibility, in my view, certainly not another killer like you. And trust me, I’ve seen every kind of ill mind out there for me to be the kind of man to warrant it with some extreme cases.”

Maybe because of what had gone down with Jack, Gray kept this so blunt. “It’s given to another killer—like me—for that exact reason: because you’re wired through social conditioning not to overstep ethics. It’s your flaw, one of many that will always, and I meanalwaysmake you an item on a killer’s pre-order wish-list: inner struggle being one of many kinks to exploit along with walking the same routine, day in, day out. Ultimately I’ll either survive my decision or not, no ethics there to debate, where you would always end up on a killer’s table, regardless.” Gray dismissed the conversation with that. They wanted candour. They had it. And at the best of times, Gray really had no tolerance for the cattle crowd; for Halliday and his personal struggles with morality.

By the time the decision was handed to a culler, all ethics had been considered, where the kill switch answer was either a yes or no from a culler according to their mindset when it came to threat level. Most times it was yes, but for reasons the likes of Halliday would never understand.

Every killer had a routine wish-list, some loving the lone jogger down the lane, others cutting wounds in a body to stuff a butterfly in before they came over the wound, or ghosting a guy name Cane with a mohawk, who kept a friend as just that, giving off a brotherly vibe to a killer that loved themes of incest…. But those killers picked from the meat market below them. The cullers picked from the butchers’. Same kill switch mechanism, same frenzy to eat and lay naked and wasted in the aftermath, just a different tier of… victim and intended result. If a culler’s playing ground brought social calm through the chaos and taught the victim market to fall back into their pens and keep safety in numbers, therefornotbe so dumbass on the streets when it came to recognising dangerslikeroutine, job done somewhere in the mix of that heat in Gray’s opinion. The only real sympathy he had was with the kids caught in the backlash of a kill. Like Jack, they didn’t have a say in their… routines.

But open talk on the cullers was dangerous, especially the ethical debates behind calling them in. And with Brennan being the one to order a psychiatrist to look into them…?

Gray levelled a look on him. “You’d have the protection of my department without all of this, so why—”

“Despite your relationship with the Monarchy,” said Brennan through his words, “I want your word that if anyone brings up an investigation into the MC again on the cullers’ behalf, you’ll notify one of us, and with no reason given on our part, you will decline that contract.”

Gray slipped a hand into his trouser pocket. “If I give that, it will only be for the duration that I hold culler leash. I can’t guarantee immunity beyond my service. You know that.”

“Whether you are a culler or not, you will also consult on a security basis with our team,” added Brennan. “And under the radar of the Monarchy, beyond the MC, if I or any of our sister departments represented at this table require your specialist consultation skills as a culler, you will also liaise with them, on neutral ground here, where the decision to aid or not in those issues will fall to you as it would a normal culler contract.”

Gray glanced around the conference table. What they asked was stupid, so damn stupid and dangerous, but mostly on their behalf. As with Cal, if the Monarchy learned someone else whispered in his ear as lead culler, then it wouldn’t be only Gray who paid the price for sleeping around. That wasn’t an issue for him. The Monarchy had shown no loyalty to his, so he’d only dance naked in whore house windows for so long where they were concerned. He was equipped to deal with any culler sent his way now, but these? Halliday?

“Are you aware of what you’re asking?” he said softly. “And I mean are youreallyaware of where you’re putting the MC and everyone in it, including your subs, if I work on a sub-contractor basis as lead culler or not? Because I have a son locked away in my manor, fighting grief and wanting to blow the cullers apart because he didn’t understand it. I buried my grandfather a few months ago because I walked around too bloody blind to how they were being trained to eat their own. If the Monarchy finds out I’m sleeping with you, the repercussions will be brutal for all concerned, and I mean deportation followed by a price put on your head for any trainee culler.”

A few Masters shifted uncomfortably, their looks resting on Brennan.

“This meeting is classified,” said Brennan, and Gray saw it was, in part, meant to calm the unease from a few of the Masters. “With no recordings made or paperwork signed, nothing goes beyond these people at this table. People you have worked alongside and trusted for yearsasa culler.” Brennan frowned. “And I—”

A knock came at the door, then a creak as it came open.

Jason came in, and Gray set his jaw tensing as he headed around to whisper in Brennan’s ear. This talk really was dangerous within MC halls. Brennan looked at the young man a moment, then he gave him a nod. As Jason headed out, Brennan thumbed into his phone, then passed it to Mistress Carr the next moment.

A smile chased her lips, and as the door came open again, she offered such a beautiful smile. “Jack.”

Gray looked back.

A mark of grease touched Jack’s cheek, always adding that warpaint intent beneath silver grey eyes, and he glanced from Carr to Gray as he limped over and tried to hide it in the process.

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