Page 15 of Vows & Violence
Viper turns toward me, arms crossed over her chest. She looks like hell. Cut lip, soot on her face, but her eyes are clear and calculating.
“They’re not just coming for revenge,” she says. “This is doctrine. Cult-level shit. I intercepted a cache of dark web traffic just before we pulled out. The Hollow Sons think Vale was a prophet. They’ve already canonized his death, called it martyrdom. They thinkyoubroke their covenant.”
I blink. “With what? God?”
“With whatever wears his face and sleeps under their floorboards,” she replies flatly. “They’re not just hunting you. They wantconversion. They want blood, allegiance, or sacrifice.”
Ghost swears under his breath. I press my palm to the charm, burning again. It’s hot now. Beating like a second heart.
“They’ve started showing themselves,” I say. “They’re wearing masks. Watching us from the crowds. One left a femuron my bike last night. It was clean, stripped, etched with the Non Cras mark.”
Viper doesn’t flinch. “They’re escalating. You two burned their altar when you killed Vale.”
“He had it coming.”
“He did,” she agrees. “But now they think you’re the devil that took his place.”
Ghost finally speaks, voice low and sharp. “So what are we dealing with? Zealots? Psychos?”
Viper doesn’t blink. “Both and they’re organized. They’ve been planning this longer than we’ve known Vale’s name.”
Outside, something rustles near the back of the house. Not an animal. Too slow. Too deliberate.
We all go still. I reach for my gun. Ghost’s already got his drawn. Viper moves toward the window. The air presses in again, too quiet, too thick.
“They’re close,” I whisper. “They want us afraid.”
Ghost glances at me. “It’s working.”
I grit my teeth. “Not for long.”
MV’s voice cuts in without warning. Through our earpieces, like a lightning strike too close to home. “Nix. Viper’s right, you’re marked.”
I flinch, even though I don’t mean to. My hand tightens around my gun, and my knuckles are pale. “By what?”
Silence answers first. Not the kind that comforts, but the kind that warns. I hear the clack of keys in the background, fast, frantic. Like MV’s chasing something with their fingertips. Like the screen in front of them is bleeding, and they’re trying to stitch it back together.
Finally, MV speaks.“The Hollow Sons is an old cult network. Pre-collapse, deep-net kind of rot. They went dark for a decade. Re-emerged wrapped in leather and bone, posing as a gang. But they’re not about territory. Not drugs. Not even money.”MV’s voice lowers, a rasp like smoke curling under a locked door.“They’re blood-drunk loyalists who think pain opens doors. Literal ones. They call itThe Rending.”
I glance at Ghost. He stiffens, his mouth drawn tight. I swear his bruised chest pulses again, just once, like it heard the word, too.
MV keeps going, relentless.“They think you killed their prophet.”
“Vale?” I ask, stunned. “That greasy son of a bitch?”
“Not quite,”MV says.“He wasn’t their leader. He was their mouthpiece. They called himVox Umbrae. Voice of the Shadows.”The room seems to tilt slightly, like gravity’s having second thoughts.“You shot him,”MV says.“That made you the heretic.”
Ghost lets out a breath between clenched teeth. “Of course it did.”
“Ghost, Vale made you their scapegoat on purpose,”MV says.“It’s part of the doctrine. He provokes the desecration, then dies by the heretic’s hand. He wanted it. Death by you was the ritual actto ‘summon the purge.’”
I grip the edge of the mattress, grounding myself. “So what now? They come for revenge?”
“No,”MV says.“They come for fulfillment.”
That lands like a blade across the spine.
MV continues, voice tight with something I almost think is fear.“Keys just intercepted chatter on a dark forum. Encrypted images, blood rites, grainy video clips of masked ceremonies. The kind of shit you don’t walk away from.”MV pauses. Then delivers the next line like a funeral bell.“They say you broke the covenant. Now they want your bones as penance.”
