Page 6 of Sinner: Before Rain
Stepping closer, brushing my hand against the soft fabric, a smirk forms on my lips.
What do we have here?
Bringing the dark fabric to my nose, the immediate smell of smoke invades my senses.
Interesting.
“You could be a great asset to The Chapel, son.”
The deep voice of a prick I have no use for fills the silence.
Letting go of the robe, I turn around. Not one guilty feeling of being caught, because why would I?
Very annoyed though, I’m not done.
Snapping back at the imbecile, “I’m not your son.”
He nods his head down, chuckling, amused by my response.
Looking back up at me, he takes a step in. “I have heard of your talents.”
What’s his angle here?
Not responding, I let him give me information while giving him nothing in return.
“In the circles I run in, it’s no secret what happens up in those Rocky Mountains.”
My face remains expressionless, my arms crossed as I lean against the wardrobe. “Go on, tell me what happens then.”
“Your last name means you have reach. You have access. You, along with other very wealthy families in that area, can get away with anything.” He has yet to tell me what happens. I wait in silence for him to continue.
He shakes his finger at me. “Smart boy.”
Yes, and I will always be smarter than you, Maxton, even at the age of ten. My eyes linger on his exposed arm. A small black tattoo, the outline of bat wings, catches my attention, as if they are coming out of his skin.
Noted.
Maxton interrupts my observations with his authoritative tone, “People go missing. People never get found. And I have heard you are very much a part of this. You may not be the one in charge of it, but you are someone who helps to ensure they are never found.”
My dad saw at an early age what an asset I would be. After that dinner when I was five, he assigned me a mentor who started by teaching me how to torture, dismember, and dispose of people.
The fundamentals.
Most would think killing is the most important thing, but it’s not. It’s how to extract information, remind them of what naughty individuals they have been, and watch them realize they are never getting out of here. The defeat that washes over their faces each time always makes me smile.
Then, once they are dead.
If we don’t want them to be found, dismemberment is key. The smaller the pieces, the quicker they decompose in the small hole we have put them in. All the tiny critters that roam the soil feast on their organs, skin, and eyes. Typically, we dispose of said people in my fucking backyard. Deep within the forest that resides on acres of my dad’s property.
Once, my mentor Adam advised my dad that I was up to his high standard, which didn’t take long. Ifucking thrived in that environment, he built my own torture shed on the property.
The floor is white tile with a drain in the middle. The walls are lined with stainless steel cabinets and countertops, along with a sink. It has everything a boy could want.
Knee splitter, hammers, pliers, bone cutters, and a table with restraints.
My dick gets hard thinking about it now. I fucking miss it.
Next, I was shown how to kill.
