Page 32 of Cruel God

I walked over to a cabinet standing on the other side of the room. “There is one more thing you have to do to prove to me that I can trust you.” I opened the top drawer and pulled out one of my father’s hunting knives. The man had a fetish for knives and steel blades. Something X and I could testify to. But unlike X, I was lucky enough to be able to hide my scar under designer label suits.

“If you pass, I know I won’t ever have a reason to doubt your loyalty to me.” I turned, and Colton spotted the knife.

“What are you doing?”

With a few quick strides, I approached X, still sitting in his seat like a smug fucking prick. Before he could move, I reached out to his shoulder and forced him back down in his chair. I swung hard and fast, and with one piercing stab, pushed the knife through the flesh of X’s hand. He roared with pain, the sound of his agony feeding the bloodlust as I pushed harder, feeling the blade slicing flesh and cracking through bone. The knife went right through and into the wood of the chair’s armrest.

He cried out, and I gave one final jab securing the knife. There was no fucking way X would be able to get that blade out of his hand now.

Colton rushed forward. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I stood up straight, pulled a handkerchief from my suit pocket and wiped the blood from my hand. “I’m securing your next assignment.”

“What fucking assignment?”

“Mr. Cain, please,” X begged, his voice shrill with pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the pain already exhausting his body.

I slipped in front of X and stared down at him, feeling no sympathy as I watched the blood leak from his hand, down the side of the chair and onto the now stained white carpet.

“Your last assignment, Mr. Riggs, is to kill Xander and secure your place on my team.” I glanced at Colton. “As my new head of security.”

There was no greater thrill than playing God with people’s lives. To exude power and show the world I was not to be fucked with. I was at the top of the goddamn food chain, the king of this jungle inhabited by all these sick motherfuckers.

The look on Colton’s face was pure horror and utter confusion. If this weren’t such a serious matter, I would have taken a damn polaroid. It was priceless seeing Colton so fucking rattled—the man who always seemed so damn calm and collected.

“What will it be, Colton?”

Colton glanced from me to X and then back at me.

“Please. Goddammit,” X cried. “Mr. Cain, I’ve been nothing but fucking loyal to you.”

“I know,” I replied. “Unfortunately, I never really liked you very much.”

X’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Cain?”

I just smiled at him. The poor bastard probably didn’t even remember it—the day I made the decision that Xander Stone would one day die either by my hand or by my command. And it was the day Xander touched what was mine.

Chapter 11

Past

It was the most spine-chilling scene; one I had seen so many times before yet still couldn’t get used to the sight. They were lined up next to each other, from the oldest woman of thirty-six to the youngest girl of seven. Naked, cold, frightened and alone, they all stood there in utter silence—except for the seven-year-old who couldn’t stop weeping, calling out for her mommy through the tears and snot that stained her tiny little face.

They were the latest group oftraineesas my father liked to call them. They came in last night, smuggled in containers to reach our shores. Some of them were promised a better life on American soil while others were simply snatched from their own backyards or the arms of their mothers.

We lived in a fucked-up world. A world where money was worth more than life. A world where sex and power fueled the evil and buried the innocent. Some days I felt thankful for knowing the truth—knowing how sick and vile this world truly was. Other days, I wished I was just another naïve person walking the streets, thinking life was a gift. That it was beautiful and filled with good.

What a load of bullshit.I guess today is a thankful kind of day.

I inhaled deep. The room smelled like lavender as it always did—the scent supposedly helping keep the new trainees calm. Pity it did jack-shit to keep the little girl from crying for her mother.

Most people imagined a room like this one to be dark, dreary, desolate. But it was quite the opposite. The walls were painted a warm beige, and the ceiling art depicted the blue sky, white clouds, and birds that flew overhead. It was the most exquisite illusion of freedom and beauty—two things this place was not.

I swallowed thickly, keeping two steps behind my dad, listening to him bark out orders at them.

“This is your new home. Whatever semblance of a life you had outside these walls is no more.” His voice carried so much authority it sent chills down my spine. I couldn’t imagine what kind of fear these women and girls had to experience while listening to him.

“You have nothing to fear here as long as you behave, keep your mouth shut, and do what is expected of you without question.”

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