Page 18 of The Devils Melody
Six months ago, Jimmy caught wind of one of the biggest pedophile rings we’ve ever had the misfortune of stumbling upon. Ever since then, Nox and I have been working relentlessly to dismantle it, piece by vile piece. Jimmy’s been right there by our side, the unwavering force that drives us. I don’t think the bastard ever sleeps. He calls at ungodly hours, always with a new list of names and locations.
We always answer.
Turns out when you set the nest ablaze, the rats will always scurry. Their problem is, they just aren’t fast enough.
Turns out, this isn't some back alley operation. It’s a fucking empire.
Nox and I have taken down rings before, but none of them have ever been like this. There’s layers when it comes to these circles and this one seems to be the most structured. Castro and Lucero are at the bottom of the totem pole, nothing but a bunch of fall guys, or what we like to call them,Masks.
The Masks are the face of the public, the cover ups and sacrificial lambs of their disgusting cause. Their only job is to take the blame while the rest of the machine is able to keep the gears in motion. Easy to find, quick to dispose of, and always replaceable. There’s always men out there like Castro and Lucero who are willing to do whatever it takes to become a more important part of the machine. Even to their demise.
Then you have the clean up crew, also known asThe Sweepers. The ones we’ve come across have all been ex-military and corrupt cops, but these guys can be anything. Congressmen, lawyers, computer nerds—people that can make things disappear with a flick of their wrist.
The Houndsare the real sick fucks. They’re the ones in charge of finding the kids and transporting them out to different locations. These predators are most likely coaches, teachers, doctors. Sometimes the people you would trust the most to keep your kids safe are the ones planning to groom them. Hiding in plain sight, they know exactly how to execute an extraction without setting off warning bells.
And at the very top ofThe Orderis someone they callThe Wraith. Nobody knows who he is, Jimmy hasn't been able to scrounge up a name or face yet. Right now he’s just a shadow pulling all the strings like a marionette. Every trail we find leads us back to him and thenvanishes. This is who Jimmy spends most of his time trying to hunt down, going through every database he can find. If we find the Wraith, we can dismantle the entire operation.
Until then, we’ll keep cutting through the ranks, one name at a time. Frankie Lucero is just another cog in the machine. A pig playing soldier in a war he knows nothing about. He thinks tonight is just like any other night, drinks, drugs, and blood money.
But tonight’s the night the devils collect another damned soul.
I grab my keys and check the monitors one last time. Wren is still at work; I shouldn’t have to worry about my little bird tonight. I can check on her later.
Tonight's the night Frankie Lucero takes his last breath.
The airinsideThe Dollhouseis thick and suffocating. It reeks of sweat, perfume, alcohol, and something rotten underneath it all. It’s the kind of place that looks flashy under all the dim lighting, but once the lights are turned on, you see the filth that’s hiding in plain sight. The bass of the sultry music pulses through the floors, rattling in my ribs, but it’s the laughter that sends a chill up my spine the most. The kind that's clearly forced and dripping with discomfort. It leads us straight to him.
Frankie Lucero is sprawled out in a corner booth, drowning in cheap velvet cushions and straight delusions. He’s dressed as if he actually gives a shit. Expensive suit, gold watch flashing under the dim club lights, but there’s no hiding what he really is. A bloated pig, reeking of sweatand cigar smoke, slouched back as though the whole fucking place exists for his entertainment.
In his lap is a dancer. She couldn’t be older than twenty; tiny, barely filling out the lace lingerie they put her in. Her arms are stiff at her sides as Frankie runs his hand up her thigh, his fingers digging hard into her flesh. She flinches, he grins.
Sick fucking bastard. How does he even get enjoyment out of this?
His other hand is fisted in her hair as he yanks her head back so he can put his dirty fucking mouth on her neck. She doesn’t even fake a smile this time as her nails dig into the cushions beside her, all while trying to endure it. This poor kid shouldn’t even fucking be here.
Something in my chest tightens, then fuckingsnaps. I already knew the kind of person Frankie was. I knew the circles he ran in, the company he kept, and the filthy things he paid for behind closed doors. But to see it…to watch him touch her,a fucking kid.
Nox exhales sharply beside me. I can feel the same barely leashed violence radiating off of him. He wasn’t always like this, full of rage and craving blood. But seeing the dark and twisted shit these women and kids go through changes a person, and it has definitely changed him.
“This one’s gonna be fun.” He mutters, cracking his knuckles in preparation for what's to come. One thing about my brother and I, we both love to torture these pieces of shits. The blood in our veins might be different, but we were cut from the same cloth. Spilling their blood excites us.
Frankie is far too drunk and arrogant to notice us yet. He’s too busy shoving his hand in between the girl's thighs and laughing when she tries to push it away. Sick fuckingbastard. I wonder if he’d like it if someone shoved their hand or another object where it doesn’t belong. We might need to test that theory later. She’s trembling now as he leans in, his mouth to her ear, whispering something that makes her eyes squeeze shut. I don’t need to hear it, because when I get through with him, he won’t have a fucking tongue to whisper with.
I’m done waiting. I don’t waste another second. Walking into their VIP section, I grab the girl by the wrist and yank her off of Frankie’s lap. The girl yelps, her eyes growing wide with fear, but she doesn’t try to fight me. She’s too scared to move, probably too numb from all the drugs they likely injected her with and all the trauma she goes through on a daily basis to do anything as I drag her away. She’s used to being dragged around, but she doesn’t have to worry about getting that sick kind of treatment from me.
“Hey, what the fuck—” Frankie is yelling at me, but I don’t give a flying fuck what he thinks. Pretty soon he won’t have a brain to think with.
I pull the girl farther away from the table, making sure there’s enough space between us and the sick bastard so she can feel safer. Once we’re far enough, I turn her towards me. She looks up at me, her eyes glassy and blown out, her body trembling from fear. Maybe it’s because I took her away from Frankie, but she sort of looks relieved. I nod my head over in the direction of the exit, silently telling her to go.Without a second thought, she listens and takes off running. I don’t know if she’s going to leave this place and not come back, I don’t know her story, but I’ll make a mental note to check back on her later. Maybe Nox and I can do something for her.
I turn to see Nox drop into the empty chair across fromFrankie. Legs spread, arm draped over the backrest, a lazy grin stretching across his face. There’s only a small table in between them, but that won’t be enough to save Frankie.
“That’s a bad habit you got there,” he says casually, nodding towards Frankie’s hand. “Grabbing shit that doesn’t belong to you.”
Frankie flicks his gaze over towards Nox, confusion and anger clear on his face. “Who the fuck do you think?—”
Nox doesn’t let him finish. He grabs Frankie by the collar of his suit jacket, yanking him forward just enough to throw him off balance. He quickly slides in right beside him, but before Frankie can make another sound, Nox's other hand flips his butterfly knife open, the glint of his blade catching the dim lights of the club for only a second before he buries it deep into Frankie’s thigh. Frankie jerks, his mouth opening on a strangled gasp, but in a flash, Nox presses a hand over his mouth, fingers digging deep into his jaw.
His voice drops to something low and chilling as he leans in closer to Frankie’s ear. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare. Now, you’re going to sit still, and you’re going to fucking listen.” Nox leans in, his smile never fading. “Make a scene, and I’ll make sure you slowly bleed out right here in this tacky fucking club. Nod if you understand.”
