Page 20 of Unholy

“Elijah! Search the place. If any ofhismen have been left behind, interrogate, then kill. Understood?” I shout at my son, who, for once, looks shocked at the scene before him.

He nods then takes off, bat swinging while whistling a tune.

Cecilia is lowered, D is bent down, broken, and looking for any sign of life. It doesn’t look good as her head rolls to the side. I crouch next to him, moving her blonde hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry.” There is no way she’s alive.

Darian rises and finds the commoner, who is still lying unconscious on the floor. Rage is released as loud roars echo. No one stops my best friend as he beats the commoner to death.Kicking him relentlessly, then moving to his skull. By the time he is done, brain matter is splattered all around.

Elijah comes back and takes in the destruction, looking over to D, and casually says, “Use the heel of your boot next time, gets it done quicker.”

Only my fucking kid.

I move my fingers to check for a pulse one last time before I stand. I stop breathing and wait, pressing down firmly on her neck.

No.

“We have a pulse!” I yell in shock. “She’s alive.”

Paramedics are already rushing in. Darian races over and joins them as they take her out on the gurney.

I stay behind with Elijah and the others Greta sent from the Antichrist.

“I found something over here, Dad,” Elijah says, grabbing my attention.

Nodding, I follow him as he leads, but before I see it, he points to the wall with his bat—KINGis written in blood on one of the warehouse walls, with Cecilia’s blood, I presume.

“Brad has to be dead. This motherfucker is getting his dick hard taunting us.”

Since Darian and Cecilia married, we’ve been Dalton’s number one target. His dad promised her to his son. Which is why my gut is saying he killed his dad. A false promise. Dalton has an ego and a hot head. Has always been reactive and hard to contain.

And since Darian married, it appears his missus has been associated with the rebel group, the Antichrist, who lives to take The Exiled down. Which, by default, we have gotten to know better. Dalton’s taken notice.

Where D goes, I go. So when I say we, I fucking mean it.

Thomas rushes over to me, his face looking frantic. “Duke. I’ve just received word that Dalton appointed a new chief of police. One of his own men.”

Keeping calm, I absorb what he’s just told me and try to put together all the pieces. What is this little shit up to? He has completely broken protocol. I appoint chiefs and judges; the Sinclairs have been responsible for this for half a century. For as long as The Exiled has been in existence.

Dalton is now publicly declaring war on his own people. Perhaps he didn’t like how we covered up the murder at the cabin; was that meant to be his public display as well?

This could ruin everything we have worked toward and invite worry and fear within the townspeople, but he’s too high on power to realize the reality of the situation.

Smirking, I rub my hands together.

Elijah begins laughing.

Thomas is confused, too innocent to realize what’s going through our heads.

We will fucking destroy his prepubescent army of assholes. This motherfucker doesn’t stand a chance. We won’t make a show of it. He won’t see it coming. Just when all seems safe is when you should be the most scared.

Pulling my phone out, I dial Rogers and put it on speakerphone. “Everything we know on my desk by sunrise. Do you fucking hear me?”

His response is immediate. “Absolutely, Duke.”

My mind flashes back to Rylee, who's still at my house. The Antichrist had been hiding and taking care of Cecilia, hoping Dalton got bored and hopefully moved on.

I’m positive Rylee knows nothing about the side hustle her grandmother operates. She seemed far too confused earlier when I mentioned Greta’s instruction to stay put.

“Make sure Greta is present,” I add before hanging up.

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