Page 33 of The Devil's Hunt

"You know I don't have time for your sentimental games, Son," he growled, his voice dripping with disdain. "We need her on our side before the election. No excuses."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. My father had always been anembodiment of ambition and ruthlessness, never one to understand the complexities of human emotions. He saw everything and everyone as mere pawns in his grand scheme to gain power.

"I'm not playing games, Father," I argued, my tone steady. "I understand the stakes involved here. I'll do what needs to be done."

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me for a moment as if searching for any signs of weakness or hesitation. Finally, he seemed to relent, leaning back in his chair.

"Fine," he conceded begrudgingly. "But do not disappoint me. I expect to see you with the Grey girl on your arm by the next campaign event."

"That's in three weeks."

"Then you better start working twice as hard," he sneered, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Oh, and you and the boys are needed to infiltrate a warehouse in Chinatown. The word is that they have a sizable shipment of our guns that they stole from us a couple of weeks ago. Ozzie has the details, but I need this to happen quickly before they move them again. The car will take you to the safe house. Get in and get out. Leave no survivors. I want to send a message to these bastards that when you steal from The Brotherhood, we will destroy you."

"You got it."

As I left my father's office, his expectations pressed heavily upon my shoulders. I had always been the dutiful son, obeying his every command without question. But this time, something within me stirred a rebellious spirit that refused to be tamed by the suffocating grip of power and ambition.

Outside, the city's chaos greeted me with an onslaught of noise and movement. I took a deep breath, hoping to find solace amidst the cacophony. The streets were filled with people rushing about their lives. Each one lost in their own battles and ambitions. It was in this sea of anonymity that I sought refuge.

I checked my phone and saw that Mila had texted me. I opened up the GPS tracker I installed on her phone and saw that she was home.

Good girl.

I was about to text her back when Ozzie slapped me on the back. "Oi, I haven't seen you in a bit! You ready to knock some skulls together?"

"Always."

"That's my boy! Let's get you to the house."

I followed Ozzie into the black Suburban and sat beside Kai and Theo.

"How'd it go?" Kai asked.

"As well as you'd expect."

"What'd he say?"

"He wants me to speed up my relationship with Mila."

"Well, that won't be hard. You still have her cum on your dick. I assume she's your pick for The Hunt, then? If not, can I have her?"

I turned my head and glared at him. "What the fuck? Do you honestly think I'd let your diseased dick go anywhere near her?"

"Hey man, that was one time. That chick told me she was clean." Kai threw his hands up in protest.

"She's mine."

"Okay, okay. But I can't help it if she wants a taste of Theo or me."

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" Theo laughed, amused tears filling his green eyes. "I haven't even seen the chick."

"I'll cut your dick off and feed it to you. That goes for the both of you," I warned.

Kai Montgomery and Theo West were my brothers in every sense except blood. Our fathers, the current leaders of The Brotherhood, raised us to be ruthless and loyal. We grew up together, indulging in vices and committing heinous acts without hesitation. The Hunt was our twisted form of bonding, a reward for our sacrifices for our families. And one day, we would pass on this legacy of power and control to our own sons and their sons, continuing the reign of terror for generations to come. Our families owned New York, manipulating every aspect of society through strategic integration into different industries—politics, stock market, law enforcement—all serving to maintain our iron grip on the city while trafficking guns with noresistance. This was our birthright, our duty, and we reveled in it without remorse or regret.

"Let's just get this shit done so we can get the fuck home," I grumbled, laying my head against the window, preparing myself for the bloodshed and mayhem that was sure to bring my spirits up.

Silently,I stalked through the warehouse, my blade slicing through flesh and my bullets piercing skulls. Each kill brought me a sense of twisted euphoria, like a drug coursing through my veins. Murder was in my blood, a legacy passed down from my father and The Brotherhood.

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