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I exit the truck and head toward the neighborhood I grew to hate. There were only three houses on the long, quiet road. No one heard me screaming as a child. Or if they did, they just didn’t care. The Nameless lived on the end. I’m really hoping our longstanding acquaintance leverages things in my favor, even though I hardly know anything about them now.
After several blocks, I’m standing at the start of the street that haunts my nightmares. I try to avoid looking at my childhood home, but my gaze pulls toward it. It’s just a slab of concrete now, which is probably for the best. I can only recall brief glimpses of the last time I was in that house.
I only know that I murdered my stepmother in a fit of blind rage.
I’d stopped by to see my father, but she had answered the door. She tried to hug me, and I ended up choking the life from her body. Why? I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.
I lit the house on fire on the way out. Incredibly, I was never caught, but I ended up in prison a few years later after I got drunk and tried to grab some bitch outside of a bar. I never even got her back to my truck. If I had, I would’ve gotten away with it. I learned my lesson then. Stay away from booze and always get them in the truck first.
I continue toward the house at the end of the street without giving the crumbling foundation a second glance. The corpses of those secrets deserve to stay buried.
I creep to the edge of a window on the side of the house and peer inside. The bedroom is empty, but the open door gives me a straight view into the hallway. Ivan, one of the brothers, stands in the doorway. I see no need to keep them nameless any longer. They’ve lost their hold on me.
Grass rustles against my boots as I make my way into the backyard. Peering into another window, I see one of the brothers seated at the kitchen table. I can’t make out which one, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll all be dead by dawn.
I’d like to avoid using the pistols if I can. Even though this is the only house left on this street, there are other nearby streets that are likely still very much inhabited, and nothing makes a noise quite like a gunshot. Though I imagine if Victor has been operating here for the last decade or more, there has already been a gunshot or two.
I don’t love killing with a pistol, though, and that’s another reason I’d rather use my knife. Guns are so impersonal. I’d much rather kill up close and feel their life force leave them. There’s something almost serene when someone dies in front of you, and it’s even more intoxicating when they die because of you.
I haven’t changed my stance on murdering women, despite my current situation. Hell, I even still view the girl as killable. But something about her also makes me want to snatch her back and keep her for myself. Well, myself and Jax and Tobin. I swear they’re driving my decision to rescue her because this is highly unlike me.
Weighing things out in my head only confuses me further. I could walk away right now and find a girl I could actually kill, or I could rescue one I can’t ever kill. The scale leans toward the former, yet here I am.
Jax knocks against my skull as I stand behind the back door. I can’t let him out. Not now. He’ll only get himself killed by trying to talk his way out of this situation, and that’s why I need to stay in control. I can do what needs to be done.
Ivan enters the kitchen, and I duck below the windowsill so he can’t see me as I strain to hear their conversation.
“Sacha, where’s Vic?” he asks.
“Down in the basement with the girl. You should probably get down there before he does something stupid.”
“Or I could go down there and help him do something stupid,” Ivan answers, and both men burst into a fit of booming laughter.
“Yeah, go down. I’ll join you two shortly.”
Ivan’s footsteps fade away, and I dare to peek through the window again. I need to make a move soon, before they have a chance to hurt her.
Sacha stands and moves toward the fridge. He opens it and begins digging around. This is my opportunity to eliminate one of them, so I ease the back door open and step inside. He must hear me behind him, because his body tenses and he stands upright.
Before he has a chance to call for his brothers, I wrap my hand around his mouth and drag my knife across his throat. The blade pierces his flesh and the blood pours. The metallic scent sends me into a frenzy. It’s like a high I can’t explain. I hold the man against my chest until he stops flailing. Then I drop him beside the island, grab the beer bottle he pulled from the fridge, and pop it open. I pour it into my mouth, careful not to let my lips touch the rim.
One down, three to go.
It’s hard for me to stay controlled now, with the scent of blood following me through the kitchen. The stuff is potent. I set the beer on the counter and make my way to the basement door.
Pulling the gun from my waistband, I open the door and start down the stairs. Each step sends a loud creak into the air.
“Hurry down, Sacha,” Victor calls. “The fun is just beginning.”
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the men don’t turn to face me. They expect their brother to join them, but they’re in for a big surprise. Aurora sits on Ivan’s lap. He’s stroking her hair, and she keeps batting his hand away with an annoyance I’ve grown to like.
Maybe I’m doing this because I actually respect that girl. She’s been so stoic and unbreakable since I’ve taken her, and that has to come from a place of immense inner strength. Breaking her became a challenge for me, but she never stopped being a snarky bitch, even in the face of death. And she hasn’t changed. In an unknown place, with unknown men, she’s still being bitchy. That takes a certain kind of bravery—or stupidity.
“Who’s going to test her out first?” Victor asks. His back faces me, but each word reaches me as if I’m standing right beside him.
My blood begins to boil in my veins. A strong sense of possession overcomes me, but I can’t tell if this feeling is mine. Even if it’s from Tobin or Jax, I still feel the raging fire in my body.
Right now, none of that matters. Regardless of whose emotions I feel, Ivan’s hands on her body are making me absolutely homicidal.
