Page 29 of The Misfit

Starting with him.

I spend the rest of the day drinking while waiting for Marcus to pay his tab. Following him outside is easy—he’s too busy texting to notice my shadow trailing him into the alley. The neon LED mask sits heavy in my hands, retrieved from my car’s trunk where I keep it for nights exactly like this. Nights when chaos needs direction. Nights when violence needs anonymity.

The mask glows softly in the dim alley, casting eerie patterns against the brick walls as I slide it over my face. The alcohol in my system makes everything sharper somehow, more focused. More purposeful.

Marcus doesn’t hear me coming. Doesn’t sense the danger until I’m right behind him. He doesn’t have time to react before my fist connects with his kidney, the hit dropping him to his knees.

“What the fu—” His words cut off as I grab him by the throat, slamming him against the wall. The mask distorts my breathing, making it sound mechanical and threatening.Perfect.

I don’t speak. Don’t give him any hint of why this is happening or who I am. Don’t risk my voice or words giving me away. Instead, I let my fists do the talking. Let violence speak what words can’t. Let him feel what it’s like to be powerless.

He tries to fight back, but the bourbon has made me stronger and given me a sharper focus. It allows me to be more deliberate in each punch, each kick, each moment of controlled chaos. I release my disappointment and anger toward Salem’s rejection out on him.

The LED lights reflect in the growing puddle of blood from his split lip. Red and blue and violence paint the alley in abstract patterns. His attempts to speak are met with more force, more silence, more purposeful pain.

This is only the beginning.

The first step in a much bigger plan. I need to create one piece of chaos before I can offer her the careful, ordered protection she’ll need. He can’t know that, can’t suspect who’s behind the mask. If he does, things for Salem will only get worse. Which will, in turn, make me lose my fucking mind. Maybe the next time I go to jail, it will be for something worthy, like killing the next fucker who dares to touch her.

My muscles burn, and my chest heaves when I leave Marcus in a bloody mess in the alley. It feels unfinished, like I didn’t complete the mission. He’s still conscious, still breathing, and still able to pick himself up.Eventually.

For now,he got a glimpse of fear and felt what it was like to be helpless. Discovered that sometimes chaos finds you without warning or reason.

Once I reach my car, I strip off the mask, the neon lights dying as I shove it under the seat. My knuckles throb beneath leather gloves, split and bloody but worth it. The bourbon buzz has faded, replaced by something more intoxicating—power, purpose, possibility.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel. It’s not enough.

Violence alone won’t get me what I want.

Won’t get mewhoI want.

To get Salem, I need to make her see how much she needs me … I need something more calculated. More purposeful. More designed to her specific fears.

My phone contains numbers of terrible fucking people, friends, family, and people who owe me favors. Guys who don’t ask questions. Guys who understand the value of making someone feel unsafe without actually causing harm. Guys who know how to create just enough chaos to send someone running toward protection.

Toward me.

It would be so easy to orchestrate an encounter. A threatening moment in the library. Nothing too extreme—just enough to make her feel like she needs someone to keep her safe. The irony of creating chaos to offer protection isn’t lost on me. The need to have her in my grasp burns stronger than logic, stronger than morality, stronger than anything including the bourbon in my blood.

I park behind The Mill, already scrolling through my contacts. I know exactly who to call and what to offer. Know exactly how to make this work.

Because I’ve seen how she flinches from disorder.

How she retreats from uncertainty.

How desperately she needs control.

And I can give her that.

Can be that.

Can become everything she needs.

Even if I have to manipulate everything to make it happen. I hate that it got to this point, but I’m running out of time. I’ll have to make her biggest fears a reality so I can protect her from them. I’ll become chaos to become her peace.

I hit the first number in my phone and wait while the line rings.

A gruff voice answers, “Hello.”

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