Page 20 of Cruel Pawn
But no way was I going to Freddo’s semi-mansion unarmed. It wouldn’t be the first time a client had hired two killers for the same target. There was a chance I’d catch a rival mid-murder, and that would only end in a bloody, gruesome fight.OrI’d pick up another friend I couldn’t get rid of, like the first time a client doubled up. Not that Silvio had been any good at killing.
The ride to Freddo’s house passed in a blur of stress. I couldn’t erase the gory images of my parents’ bodies mangledin the wreckage of their car. Not just because of the crash but because their killer took a serrated-edged blade to their throats, their chests, their torsos, and cut vertical lines through each of their eyes. It was more than just making sure the job was done; whoever killed them enjoyed themselves. They hadfunwhile they ripped my whole world out from beneath my feet.
And soon I would do the same to them. I just needed to kill Freddo first.
My car skidded to a halt outside the gates to his flashy home, propping my laptop open on the seat beside me and flipping through the tabs I had open until I found the commands to open the gates. I wasn’t a tech prodigy like Silvio’s flavour of the week, but I knew enough to get my job done, so it only took me a minute to get the gates open, then I was speeding through, veering into an arc outside his front door.
I jumped out and left the door open, left the engine running as I slammed into my target’s front door. Cold trickled through me when I found it unlocked, but that wasn’t unusual. You hardly needed to lock your front door when you had a crazy security system and your own gates.
Inside, it was eerily still, but again, that was normal. Huge house, with only one guy who lived here and a housekeeper and cook who dropped by twice a week. Of course it felt big and empty. I wanted to call out Freddo’s name, but I knew better than to give away my location. Instead, I palmed a dagger’s handle and crept through the foyer, scanning the gleaming white space, the black accents, the grand staircase that led up to bedrooms on the second floor. But it was deeper into the ground floor that I went, towards the room where the cameras had been killed.
I paused a few steps from the living room, putting my back to the wall and listening for any signs of life—not just from Freddo, but from anyone else the Lynch family might have sent to killhim. My dagger fit in my palm, the feeling of a weapon in my grasp like a homecoming. I enjoyed the acting, the charade, the con, but this was where I really excelled—the killing itself. The rush of adrenaline, the slow thump of my heart, the shiver of excitement across my skin.
There was no sound, not even a sigh or shuffle, so I crept forward on silent feet, peering into the living room.
Shit. A sigh escaped before I could stop it. There was no one in the living room. No one alive, at least.
In the middle of the white rug, Freddo slumped where he’d been tied to a silver chair from the dining room. He was utterly naked, covered in so many cuts and hacking slashes it made my parents’ murders look tame. And someone had cut his dick off, I noticed with surprise. Bright, crimson splashes turned the ivory sofas into an abstract art piece far more successful than anything I’d painted. The hard wood floors beyond the rug were bloodied too, and it even arched in vibrant splatters on the walls. Droplets had reached the elaborate glass light that hung from the ceiling, and streaked the flatscreen TV that really had no reason to be that big.
It was an impressive mess. I might have even admired it if this didn’t lose me sixty thousand fucking pounds. This was supposed to be the last job before my revenge crusade. It was supposed to buy me vengeance.
I drew another knife as I turned slowly, my ears pricked for any noise, but the killer would be long gone. Freddo’s body had been there long enough to stain the rug in a wide pool, and no killer worth their salt hung around to get caught. Still, I felt better with two weapons instead of one.
Especially when I faced the glossy bar along the far wall and saw blood-smeared words on the wall behind it, stark crimson against pure white. My temperature dropped, a chill making me shudder.
SHE’S MINE.
That meant this was the work of a scorned husband or the boyfriend of one of Freddo’s many flings. I knew his womanising ways would catch up to him, but I’d hoped it would result in a broken nose, not a fucking murder. His death wasmine.And this complicated things. A contract killer would have left the scene immediately, but a passion-driven murderer might—
Air rushed my back, the warning too late for me to react. A cloth pressed to my face, forcing sweet, drugging air into my nose, my mouth. I cut off my air, but I’d already taken an instinctive breath, and my lungs screamed at me for more.
I slashed both knives behind me, the first carving through open space but the second biting into flesh, blood spurting over my hand.
“I missed you, too, my opera,” said the voice that haunted my dreams, a sensual brush of whiskey and velvet.
I gasped hard, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps. I thought I’d been about to be murdered, but this was much, much worse. And the gasp pulled more drugged air into my lungs, the tell-tale sweetness of chloroform on my tongue.
“But don’t worry, I’m here now.”
I struggled, but I was already wilting, my strength fleeing, and all I succeeded in doing was dropping my knives.
“I’m here now,” Arden repeated with aching softness as consciousness was forcibly ripped from me.
12
Arden
MostArdently:
No one panic but I did a thing…
DJetSet:
Oh fuck
Tell me you didn’t kidnap that girl, you dumb fuck
MostArdently:
