Page 5 of Tyrant

“You couldn’t have,” I say, looking at mymotheragain.

Bridgette Lockart is not myreal mother. She didn’t give birth to me. She’s always hated me too. I had nothing to do with my father’s death yet in some way she’s always treated me as though I caused it. I wasn’t even in the car when it crashed…

“Move, Serafina,” mymothersays. “Or else these men will attack you and they will hurt you. I won’t stop them either. Orders have been given. There’s no taking them back. We can only move forward.”

I look atThroat-GuyandShh-Guy. As though I’m going to gain sympathy from them.

“I’ve done nothing wrong! I don’t belong…”

My voice trails off and I shut my eyes. I can’t believe this is my life right now. I fucking hate Bridgette. I wish she had been the one killed in a car accident.

And I hate Olivia too, even though she just works for Bridgette. Olivia has always been good to me and I’ve been good to her. We always had a fun game of eating Bridgette’s expensive chocolates, then convincing her the next morning she had too much to drink the night before and forgot she ate them.

So this is it. This is my life now. You know what? I’m not going away without a fight. I’ll make it worth everyone’s time and effort.

I lunge in Bridgette’s direction and start to run toward her. Mymotherputs her hands up and lets out a helpless scream. I don’t make it three steps before I feel someone grab my hair.

And I feel a fist hit my back so hard, I lose feeling in my legs and can’t breathe…

Chapter Three

TYRANT

I refuseto turn my back on a target. I’ve made the promise to Luc and I will not be crawling back to him without this job done. I will not ask him for fucking forgiveness. At that point I’d rather swallow a fucking bullet.

Also, I took it upon myself to do the necessary recon on this target. Wanting to showcase and showoff my skills. I know everything about this piece of shit target. From the way he makes his coffee in the morning to the exact moment he takes his morning shit, all the way to the fact that he showers every night at ten and squats down a little so he can masturbate with one hand and with the other hand use two fingers to shove up his own ass, because he likes the feeling of it but is too afraid to ask his wife or his whores to do it for him.

His death will be covered up. His wife will be drugged up and paid off. Life will go on and not a single fucking common person in the world will give a fuck about this guy and his death.

There’s something about deep, dark corruption that makes me get hard. Peri and I are in the building now. Dressed in black jeans, black boots, black long-sleeve shirts. Black baseball caps. Our faces are painted in some kind of quick skeleton design. That’s so when this asshole sees us, he knows exactly what’sabout to happen. He’ll know we’re fromSA. He’ll know the orders came fromPerg. From the throne. Orders to the brood.

Peri grabs my shoulder and gives me a small tug. The two of us move behind a thick, concrete pillar. I hear the sound of whistling along with the sound of footsteps. It’s some pencil pusher working the midnight hours, hoping to get a raise.

“Where’s your fucking head at?” Peri growls at me.

“I’m ready to fucking kill, what about you?”

“Focus, Ty. Fucking focus.”

“You want to see focus?” I ask.

I step forward and turn. The pencil pusher has no clue I’m twenty feet away from him with a gun in my hand, silencer on the barrel, and I have him in my sight. One pull of the trigger and his brains will splatter all over. He’ll be dead before he knows he was shot.

I look back at Peri and curl my lip. Peri isn’t impressed. I’m not here to impress Peri. Although I’m not sure anything impresses Peri. He’s robotic. His entire existence mapped out by his powerful father. Something we all relate to around here.

We wait for the pencil pusher to get into his car and drive off. Now we can’t take elevators and we have to be careful with the main stairs. Obviously Baal didn’t complete his own recon, which is why he’s missing an eye right now.

Peri and I take the stairs up to the fifth floor and then stop. We then go into the offices and carefully walk along the north wall of the building. There are no security cameras there. And all the cubicles have their computers fully shutdown and all laptops are taken home by employees.

God forbid you get an email at midnight and don’t respond in ten fucking seconds, right?

We end up in the break room, which is the saddest looking tiny kitchen I’ve ever seen.

“Now what?” Peri asks.

“Well, thanks to Baal, this is right where we’d end up getting fucked,” I say. “But if he took a look at the plans for the building, he’d know there’s another way.”

I point up to the vent.

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