Page 46 of Unholy

Wearing all black, I blend perfectly in with the foliage surrounding us. Thomas still has a thing or two to learn, and in time he fucking better.

In preparation of go time, he removes his cuff links, rolls up his shirt sleeves, and reaches for his machete. He left his suit jacket in the Range, I told him he wasn’t bringing that shit with us. The thought of him wrapping the jacket around his waist while we infiltrate the estate disgusts me. I am a serial killer, a weapon, and my pet has a cape. Not a fucking chance.

It’s time.

The compound has remained at rest. Not a single person has done a security walk around the perimeter since we first arrived, so he suspects nothing will transpire this evening. He suspects we are plotting, planning revenge, when in fact we have had this planned for weeks. Him burning The Ranch down only escalated our timeline.

Gripping my bat, I rise. Thomas follows my lead, holding tightly on to his machete. We don’t speak, it’s silent communication from here on out. He is learning quickly, interpreting my body language is something he is becoming an expert in. Walking out of the tree line, I make no effort to hide myself; to be seen or not doesn’t matter as the same result will occur. I am not leaving here without Dalton.

Our shoes crunch against the long grass and twigs, and my bat rests perfectly on my shoulder as my eyes keep watch on the windows facing us. Still no movement, no security sensors—nothing here is stopping us. My teeth play with my lip ring. Something isn’t right. It shouldn’t be this easy.

Instinct follows, and the same feeling washes over me.

Could he be hiding out, not even here?

No, his ego is far too inflated to hide. If he had people watching us, watching them, I would have felt it and we would have been surrounded by now as we walk through the open field.

“Boss,” Thomas whispers

“Not now. I’m thinking,” I snap back.

“It’s too quiet.” The kid doesn’t listen,not nowdoesn’t mean keep talking.

Doing my best to resisttheurge,my knuckles crack from squeezing my bat. “I know. Now let me think.”

An owl calls out overhead. Tilting my head, I watch it fly off Dalton’s roof and toward the woods behind us. Even this fucker knows something is afoot.

We reach the side of the house unscathed. Instead of tiptoeing around the place, I decide to make a grand entrance, taking away any element of surprise they may have on us.

“Follow my lead and do not hesitate to use that thing if you have to,” I snap at Thomas.

“Yes, boss.”

I find being firm with him is the best approach; it gets him all amped up.

We are nearing the front, the driveway lit with the help of the garden lights, the porch area dim, but not intricate enough to have anyone hiding on it. I take one last look around before hopping over the low-lying shrubs and hibernating flowers. Still no sign of anyone.

Thomas follows as I proceed, walking up the steps to the front door. A single floorboard creaks and I freeze in place, waiting for what I could have just triggered. But no traps or flying knives jump out. The door is thick wood, similar to my dad’s place, and as long as nothing is reinforcing it on the other side, we should be able to get in easily.

“Thomas, on three, we kick.”

He comes to stand next to me, ready for my sign. “One… Two… Three.”

On three, we both raise our feet and with all our force, kick in the door. A loud crack then a slam follows, and we nearly break it off the hinges before it crashes against the wall behind it.

Stepping in, it’s dark and silence welcomes us. I find comfort in it.

From examining the blueprints prior, I know Dalton’s room is upstairs and that the staircase welcomes us almost immediately upon entry. Walking to the right, I nod my head, inviting Thomas to follow. Using my bat, I reach it out to feel what’s in front of me, so I don't walk into anything. What I don’t anticipate is tripping, which is what I do straight away. I can hear Thomas patting at the wall once he hears my “ouf” from falling.

Before I can tell him to stop, he has already done it. The lights are on and instead of a cool white marble floor below me, it’s warm, wet, and bloodied.

Thomas begins to stutter, “B-boss…”

Looking over my shoulder once I rise, shock radiates from him. Confused, I look to see where his eyes are looking and follow his line of vision while I shift my body.

“Fuck me,” is all I can get out.

The main entrance opens to the living space, the stairs, just as I remembered, are in fact on the right side. But before me is a level of carnage I thought I was only capable of. This is worse than any Hell Fire Night in recent memory.

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