Page 61 of Massacre
Wanderer, with his cigarette dangling and his words rough as gravel, watched everything—and nothing—all at once. His eyesflicked to the door every so often, as if he expected ghosts to walk in.
I let the tension settle, enjoying the push and pull of banter and bravado. The clubhouse was thick with the scent of smoke, whiskey, and something older, a camaraderie that pulsed through the worn floorboards. My mother’s absence left a hush only half-filled by the brothers’ laughter, the cards slipping from hand to hand with the practiced ease of men who’d played this game a thousand times.
But they hadn’t played with me.
I flashed a smile, slow and sweet as honey. “Alright, alright,” I relented, discarding a lowly two of clubs and drawing my card. A small tell here, a twitch there—Cerberus’s grin widened, Scythe’s scar seemed to deepen as he smirked, Heretic took a long pull from his bottle, and Wanderer’s cigarette burned down to ash.
“Tell me something, babygirl.” Cerberus shifted, all laughter gone from his face as he reached for his bottle of whiskey and asked, “Does King know that Zachary Marshall is my son?”
And just like that, I knew I was the one that just got played.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Massacre
Rough-hewn rope ripped into my wrists. The dull ache in my chest had become my constant companion to the searing pain in my ribs. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of moonlight slicing through the grimy warehouse window, illuminating the crimson bloom across my shirt. My vision blurred, a watercolor painting of fading light and deepening shadows.
Yet, strangely, a clarity descended, a lucidity born not of regret, but of approaching peace as I thought of her.
The love of my life.
The woman I gave my heart to all those years ago.
Her laugh, the sound of wind chimes in a summer garden, echoed in the cavern of my mind, a stark contrast to the groaning timbers above me. Her face, usually alight with mischief and fierce intelligence that both captivated and intimidated me, now rendered into a serene landscape seared in my memory forever. I saw her not as she was now, but as she would be—untouched, unburdened, safe.
This wasn’t some random act of violence; this was my last act to protect her.
I knew she wouldn’t understand.
None of them would.
But I did, and that was all that mattered.
As the moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the scene, highlighting the stark contrast between the grime of my surroundings and the purity of my intentions, I hung, bound and broken, as my mind soared to her. In my heart, I knew she wouldbe safe from the dangers that ensnared my life. The memory of her smile, the feel of her hand in mine, would sustain me in my final moments.
I made a choice, and though it may be misunderstood, it was mine to make.
A choice born of love, a sacrifice to ensure her happiness and freedom from the shadows that haunted mine. This pain I felt was nothing but a reminder of my mortality, but it also fueled my determination. I would not waste my last moments wallowing in self-pity or regret. Instead, I embraced the peace that came with knowing she would live the life I dreamed for her—a life I could not provide but ensured she would have.
And it would be a beautiful life.
She would have everything I couldn’t give.
I ensured it.
He might have thought he’d taken everything from me, but he would never touch her. Not ever. His brutality, his twisted desire for revenge, was nothing more than a clumsy fist against the fortress I built around her. A fortress woven from years of unspoken Brotherhood that not even he could traverse. He sought to extinguish her light, but in his brutality, he inadvertently kindled a fire he could never hope to contain. He brought me here, sought to control my fate, to bend it to his will, but his understanding was limited. He would never grasp the symbiotic nature of life and death, the delicate balance that governed my existence. In killing me, he unwittingly sealed his own fate because when the Brotherhood came for him—and they would—they would extract the very evil in his soul with their bare hands.
And when he was finally dead, and the threat to her was gone, they would do what I couldn’t and ensure her happiness. They would get to watch her smile soar, her happiness take flight as she would finally be free.
The rope bit deeper as my heart slowed, and the ache in my chest became a dull throb. My mind, however, was clear and sharp, and I once more thought of her, and only her. The moonlight, now a soft caress, illuminated the scene, a stark contrast to the darkness that encroached. I hung, a sacrifice, but it was not in vain because she would be free, and the life I imagined for her would become her reality.
My brothers would see to that.
They would keep her safe.
A faint smile touched my lips as I pictured her, a beacon of light in my dark world. Her laughter rang in my ears, and I knew that soon she would be truly happy.
As my eyes closed, I felt a sense of peace wash over me.
