Page 13 of Unholy

Fuck.

KINGis written in capital letters using blood on the white wall.

Is he confirming our beliefs? Does he know we have other eyes on him? Are we being bugged?

All questions that I need Rogers on because this isn’t a coincidence.

My face is neutral as thoughts race frantically through my mind. Casually I shift my eyes, examining the room and the other members in attendance; anything and everyone here is significant.

Ignoring my son, I command the room, “Anyone left alive?” not wanting to draw further attention our way.

“Just the one who called you,” an eager member speaks up, wanting to show his worth using his knowledge.

Turning my head to the bloody scene before us, I ask, “What aretheystill doing here?” while walking over to the now deceased chief of police. Kneeling, I take in the body, a single close-range gunshot to the back of the head, dead instantly.

Executed.

“We didn’t want to move them until you got here, Duke,” the member continues. My eyes continue to surveillance the area, noting that the blood has already begun to dry on the floor. “What’s your name, kid?”

You can hear his chest push out with confidence. “Thomas.”

He’s one of Greta’s. I knew he looked familiar. She has Antichrist members all over. Faces who blend in, never raising suspicion, are easier to insert, like Thomas. He’s never been to Hell Fire, nor to a meeting, but no one in this room is challenging whether he belongs.

She isn’t doing this to spy on us, but to gather intel on the increased events and fucking chaos since Hell Fire Night.

Giving him a curt nod, I command the room as I rise, “Clear the room!” Everyone scurries except for Elijah and Delicroux.

Once everyone is gone, my hands rest in my trouser pockets. Walking up to my best friend, I whisper in his ear, “D, call Ryder.Tell them we are going to leave the body in plain sight. We have an internal situation but can’t have the town suspicious. They need to believe this is between us and them. Corrupt chief. Uneasiness brings unpredictability. We need to portray that we have this contained. They’ll understand. This kid is taunting us, there is no longer a doubt in my mind that Brad, our former King, is dead.”

If the other members of The Exiled have suspected, none have been vocal about it. Fear is most likely fueling their silence.

Turning to my son, my tone is firm when I say, “Not. Yet.” His chest heaves, hungry for bloodshed. His tongue moves across his teeth and newly implanted sharp canines, which Rain got him as a gift that he made permanent.

Elijah craves blood and inflicting pain. Withdrawal hits hard when he can’t get it.But soon, son, soon, I fucking promise.

Stomping out of the room, he purposefully steps in the pool of blood that’s not yet dry as he goes to leave.

“He’ll survive,” I mumble to myself. I hate having a leash on him. I never want to hold him back, but we have to be smart.

Clapping my hands together, I call out to the banished team. “Clean this shit up. Leave the chief's body in Ryder’s territory. The others, unmarked graves. Understood?”

As they hustle back into the space, “Yes, Duke” is said quietly as they scurry to get to work.

Thomas is standing just in my peripheral view. “Supervise the cleanup, kid.” I trust my cleanup team, but I need to make sure I truly can. Thomas will tell me if my gut is right.

Before turning to leave, I see D casually pass Thomas and whisper something I can’t hear, but see the kid say, “Understood.”

Leading the way, I take in the bloodiedKINGscrawled on the wall one last time. He knew I could barely tolerate his father, andhim, nothing more than a fucking immature peacocking child, not equipped to run a fucking billion-dollar organization.

If he wants to play, I’ll fucking play. And I’ll win because I’m better at this game than he is.

6

RYLEE

Thin leather straps crack against my skin. Blunt ends penetrating, stinging, and marking my body. I jolt forward, cowardly, on the edge of my bed with each whip.

I pride myself on discipline. But tonight I broke my own cardinal rule: giving in to my own pleasure. I lost control, I failed myself, and I must pay the consequences.