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his mouth. “Soon. Three days, actually.”
I swallow harshly before drifting my eyes towards Tripp. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, dark blue
jeans, and military boots that are loosely tied. His hair is shaved quite close to his scalp on the sides
where tattoos are imprinted there, and is a little longer on the top, kinda like a slicked Mohawk. The
energy that hovers around him puts up warnings like no other.
Kurr pauses before looking towards me. “But you’re right,” he begins, his eyes combing over me in
a way that has my skin crawling. “This needs to hurry along.” A smile spreads across his mouth as he
turns his body towards me completely.
“Tripp?” Kurr’s eyes remain trained on me as he gains Tripp’s attention. “Tell the boys that we
will do her final training tonight.” His leather-like skin that covers almost all of his face crinkles
when he smirks, then he and Father David disappear down the corridor outside the cell. My eyes
remain on the spot where they departed before bringing them back to Tripp who’s remained in his
same spot throughout the encounter. I can’t see his eyes from here, only the outline of the steel from
his mask.
“Tripp?” I whisper through my clenched throat.
There is a long pause before he pushes himself off the wall and walks toward the cell door. He
pauses once he’s reached outside the cell and grasps onto the door, his back remaining turned on me.
The heavy lock of the cell door catching breaks the eerie silence from his departure and I drop back
to the floor in a mess. I bury my swollen face into the palms of my hands. This will be the last time I
shed tears, but this time I’ll shed these tears for the girl I once was, and the girl I was about to
become…
TRIPP
I walk down the dark concrete corridor until I reach the old stairs which lead to the first level of the main house, away from the dungeon. The dungeon that sits in the middle of a sunken dead volcano is as ancient as the old Viking days. Its old concrete walls and its candle lighting leading the way through the darkness display its true age. It holds seven large cells and one chamber where we dispose of the corpses, to put it bluntly. On the first floor above the dungeon is a large armory and meeting area equipped with a kitchen. It’s where The 6 hold the majority of our discussions. There are stairs which lead to the upstairs rooms, also known as Kurr’s “home”. There’s also a large building that is built beside the main house, where the podium is built underground, and the top is where we hold the major meetings Kurr has every month. Kurr throwing a curveball by saying he wants Millie’s final training tonight threw me off. I was expecting it to be in a couple more days, so now I have to rethink what I was doing.
The way Millie looks at me is unnerving. And that’s not something I’ve felt often. I’ve survived twenty-seven years without having a bitch come in and tap into my feelings. That ain’t about to change today. I’m a bad man, and I haven’t just done bad things; I’ve done evil things. The number of bodies that have fallen at my hands are carved into my back in a tally. Each carving, a reminder of why I am the way I am, why I am machine, not man. Man couldn’t do what I do. The adrenaline that spikes through my veins at the mere touch of fresh blood fuels me. Nothing can change that. No one can— ever.
Once I hit the top of the stairs, I walk straight past the eyes that I know are watching me carefully from the armory room where The 6 are putting away our latest shipment, and towards the large wooden front doors that lead outside. I push them open and rip off my mask, running my hands over my face angrily. I don’t know what the fuck to think of Millie. So I just won’t. Thinking too much gets you killed.
Taking two steps at a time, I walk out towards my cabin. The place we have here is much larger than what they had at the old prison. It’s one community, hidden, under the radar. We don’t have to worry about much of anything because we’re taken care of. Power, food, water… hell, even the internet is available here. It’s modernized now, though. The old soldiers Kurr had at the previous prison headquarters were weak. They didn’t believe in the cause or the fight, whereas the soldiers who stand with Kurr today do. They stand by him with heavy boots and loaded semiautomatics. The 6 are different. No one but us know who we are here and it’s always been like that. I may have been born and raised here, but the workers have an expiration date on the base. You reach a certain year, you’re cut. It’s a part of the system and how we’ve always flown under the radar. Who gets the honors of making those cuts, you ask? Well… they don’t call me the executioner for nothing. I sliced a man I had known since I was a kid from ear to ear and didn’t flinch once. The rest of the boys are the same. None of them live overly extravagant lives—well, except for me, I guess. Viking, he has a couple kids, although none of us know anything past his name “Viking”, but it works. The dynamic we all keep works, and it works really fucking well.
I walk across the gravel road where people move for me. Soldiers, nurses, women, and men, they’re all trained in different ways and they also all know to move when I’m in the vicinity. I didn’t force that; that came with respect and power. The kind of respect that is earned by having a certain amount of power.
I’m just about to walk up the stairs to my cabin when Joker’s voice stops me.
“You feeling alright?” he asks from over my shoulder.
I turn to face him, my arms crossing in front of me. “Yeah, why?” I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing.
