It amazed me that Fang could go and talk to those kinds of people without anyone trying to kill him. Maybe they were just that afraid of him. Didn’t blame them one single bit, because if anyone in this cabin was like a serial killer from the movies, it was Fang.
I know, weird, since I was the actual serial killer here and Fang just had a taste for metal.
“These guys were all ones who shot you up that night,” Fang went on, mouth glittering with silver as he glanced to Mike and Viper. He slid two pictures toward them, and I saw on one there was a gruff face of a middle-aged man, balding, with a goatee.
Ew.
The other picture had what looked like a group of three friends. These ones were younger, maybe in their thirties. It looked like the photos were copied from somewhere online and printed on white paper.
If I had to guess, the older gentleman took point while the younger three were the arms of the mission. Either way, no matter who was in charge of the hit, they all needed to die. And, of course, the idiots should’ve checked to make sure their marks were actually dead.
Fools. We were literally dealing with fools here.
Fang had two more pictures; these ones he unfolded and slid to Roman and Carter. “And I know you didn’t ask me to find out, but I figured you might want some payback, too. Those are the fuckups who shot up the Dollhouse and almost killed your girl.”
Carter looked like he wanted to kill someone, as did Roman. For the first time in a while, their animosity was not turned toward me.
“Unfortunately,” Fang went on, “they don’t hang out in the same places. If you want to get them all, you’ll have to split up.” He then explained just where these guys liked to hang out. Our group liked to hang out at a bar—the younger three guys, anyway. The older gentleman roamed a bit more, so it would take more time to nail his ass.
Which was fine, because three heads were plenty. One more than I needed, actually, but we were still going to kill each and every one of them.
Roman and Carter’s group liked to play poker every Saturday night—and what would you know tomorrow was? Saturday. So, while we hit the bar, Roman and Carter would wait a few hours and make their last poker night one they wouldn’t soon forget.
As for the guy who didn’t have a permanent hangout, we’d get him. Provided we all lived through this, we would make him regret ever agreeing to be Bianca DeLuca’s little bitch.
“Now, unless you need something else from me,” Fang pushed away from us, looking suddenly bored, as if this was not exciting enough for him, “I’m going to go wait it out.” His silvery grey eyes darted to Richard, who couldn’t seem to wipe the frown off his face. “Good luck with it.” It would seem he wouldn’t offer his frightening self in the fight, but that was fine.
I was more than confident we had all we needed, and that was me.
Bianca DeLuca, ready or not, here we come.
We didn’t leave right away. We waited until well into the morning the day after Fang left. Day seven, the last day I had to accept Bianca’s deal or face the consequences. She could threaten me with helplessness all she wanted, but I wouldn’t bow my head and kneel before her like everyone else.
The Night Slayer bowed for no one.
Maddox, Sylvester and Viper were coming with me. I figured I’d walk into the bar first, scope it out. It was quite possible our guys might not even be there. Who knew? If that was the case, and they weren’t there, I guess I’d get the bartender’s head and someone else’s. Sooner or later we’d kill those fuckers; shooting up Viper and Mike’s place was not something we could just let slide. It had to come with consequences, one of the correct times to come down on all those involved with an iron fist.
Or a bullet in the face. Either one.
Roman and Carter were going to wait a few hours and then follow us, doing their own thing. It was fine; I didn’t need their help, nor did I want it. I knew they wanted to make those responsible for their girl’s injury pay, and I didn’t blame them for it. If I was in their shoes, I’d want the same thing. Vengeance, plain and simple.
Wasn’t that what all of this was about?
Mike wasn’t tagging along, even though he was mobile. Barely mobile, I should say. He was still far too weak and would only bring down the effectiveness of our murderous group. I know he wanted revenge too, but he had to accept that he couldn’t come. Maybe he could kill that old guy later on, once he was fully healed up, but today was not that day.
Daddy Luciano was going to stay back and take care of Mike, which was fine. I guess since it was my plan we were going ahead with, he didn’t want a part of it. He still hated me for what I’d done, and even if my plan succeeded and I killed Bianca, he’d always hate me. You could never make up for killing a son in the eyes of a father who loved him in spite of his tendency to take home girls who were drunk.
Or, hell, maybe it wasn’t about me. Maybe Richard was staying back at the cabin with Mike because he wanted to see if his sons could make a stand. Like a test, or something? I didn’t know. I wasn’t in Richard’s head, so I wasn’t sure what the man was thinking.
I dressed in black leggings that clung to my ass and calves, needing a wide range of movement that tight jeans just wouldn’t allow. My shirt was an off-white color, one of the ones I’d hurriedly packed when I’d stumbled upon Fang in the Luciano house. I still had no idea why he’d been there, but it wasn’t my place to wonder, I guess.
Why a practically white shirt, you might ask? Well, I find that the stark contrast of fresh blood tended to stick out more when it was on white fabric. When I walked into the DeLuca house, I wanted each and every one there to see me as who I was. Bianca was the Bloody Princess, but I was so much more than that.
I brought my mask, of course, but beyond wearing it at the bar… I didn’t know if I would wear it with Bianca. I guess I’d wait and see how I was feeling in the moment, because as soon as we hit that bar, I had to do some beheading, and then I had to get my ass to the DeLuca house as quickly as possible, before she got wind of what happened.
Couldn’t sit around and be slow, you know. Not at a time like this.
I sat in the backseat with Maddox, Viper in the front passenger seat while Sylvester drove. The car ride was silent, no radio, no one talking at all. We were each lost in our own heads, in what might come after today, how we might fail. After all, no plan was fool-proof. This might be a terrible mistake, but at this point, what did we have to lose?
Our lives. Our freedom. Okay, so there were a few things we could lose, but I think after everything, we didn’t care. We had one-track minds when it came to getting back at those who’d wronged us.
Revenge was a funny thing. People said it didn’t serve anything, that you didn’t feel better afterward. I might’ve agreed with them, had I not been living a life full of revenge these last few years. My mother, my father, my brother. After killing Aiden, I’d felt numb almost, hollow, even though I should’ve been excited.
I think, now, I was just in shock at the time. Like, I couldn’t really believe it. My brother was finally gone, no longer a threat, no longer looming in the back of my mind at every turn. He was gone, deader than dead, and now I could breathe easily. Now I knew I was happy he was gone.
You see, those people who always said revenge wasn’t worth it had no idea what the fuck they were talking about. That, or they’d never experienced true horror in their lives. If you were tortured, if you were raped, if someone tried to kill you… why wouldn’t you want to get back at them? Why wouldn’t you daydream about their brutal, bloody death?
Or maybe that’s what psychos did, but even so, at least vengeance was served.
“I know the bar Fang mentioned,” Sylvester spoke sometime during the ride. “It opens at noon. We’ll get there at one.” His blue eyes were on me in the rearview mirror, and I smiled.
“And then I’ll go in and see what we’re dealing with,” I chimed in. Meaning, I’d see if those guys were actually there. With any luck
, they would be, and we’d make short work of them.
Viper mumbled, “I still don’t like sending you in there alone.”
“They know your faces more than they know mine,” I said. “The minute you three walk in, they’ll know something’s up, which is why I’m going in first. If you hear shouting or shooting though, feel free to come in.” Hey, you never knew what might happen. Had to be ready for anything.
“She’s right,” Maddox said, agreeing with me with a side-glance of his dark stare. “Plus, she can handle herself.”
I turned my smile onto him. I would’ve blushed if I was any other girl, but I was me, and blushing was so not my thing. “Thank you,” I said. “Either way, we’re leaving that bar with heads.” We’d brought along a pillowcase from the cabin, which Sylvester had tucked away in his pocket.
You know, for the heads.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous about all of this. Every night I’d gone out as the Night Slayer with the intent of hunting another victim, the stakes were never this high. It was always just me, and the person who would pay the price for any missteps on my part was, again, me. But now there were others who would pay if I fucked it up, which put a lot of pressure on my shoulders, let me tell you.
So, yeah. I was nervous. At the same time though, I was also excited, thrilled to finally be going back, to see that bitch’s face again and tell her just what I thought about her. Give her the firmest answer in the world, which was a resounding no. No, I would never join her. No, I wasn’t going to kill my men for her. No, no, and fuck no.
Bianca thought she was so special. She thought she was the best. The idiot bitch thought she was above everyone else simply because she was cruel and bloodthirsty and wasn’t afraid to show it. Newsflash, honey, that didn’t make you special. All it made you was enemies.
Me? I could be cruel, and I was definitely bloodthirsty, but I liked to think I had a tad more charm than that woman.
I was offered one of the knives from the kitchen in the cabin, but I refused. I preferred to see what my surroundings had. In a bar, there was always something. A bottle, a hidden gun behind the counter, something. Plus, with my leggings, there weren’t exactly any pockets I could shove a sharp knife into. A, that would hurt me. B, it would be completely obvious because you’d see the imprint of the knife in the leggings. So, no, today I had to go in weaponless, but I’d make do. I always did.
My face was glued to the window during the drive, and I watched the scenery slowly change from the middle of nowhere, all trees and nature, morphing into the suburbs that surrounded the city. And then, like a miracle, we were back. Shiny new buildings, multiple stories high, busy sidewalks and so many people going about their day. Lucky them.
As I watched them, I couldn’t help but wonder whether they knew. Just because the Lucianos and DeLucas owned this city didn’t necessarily mean every single person knew about it. I bet there were so many people just going on with their lives, blissfully unaware of how dark this city’s underbelly was. Ignorance was truly bliss. If I wasn’t me, I might be jealous of them.
But I was me, so I wasn’t. I would never want to live in ignorance. Give me the truth, and don’t shy away from its ugliness.
Sylvester found the bar, and he parallel parked in front of it, near a few other cars. Hopefully that meant our gang was here, celebrating another week done. Maybe they thought, since they hadn’t heard hide nor hair of the Lucianos or Viper and Mike, they’d succeeded in killing them or something. Dumbasses.
All three guys turned to me, Sylvester and Viper fighting their seatbelts to do so. Three pairs of eyes, all trained on me, each a different color but each one worried all the same. Even Maddox, the often scowling and irritable one.
I picked up my mask, giving them a smile. “Here goes nothing.” And then, before any of them could correct me or scold me for saying that, I got out of the car and headed to the bar’s front door. It was one of those wooden doors that jutted out a bit from the building, the kind of door that had its own tiny roof. Kind of old-fashioned, but when I stepped inside the bar, I knew why.
The whole place was old.
All of the places I’d seen in this city were newer, minus the houses in the poorer districts. Like where I’d lived before all this. To see such an old place in the middle of downtown was startling, almost.
Inside, everything was dark. The mood was definitely set. There were only a few windows in the front of the bar, and there were so many signs put up in those windows that hardly any natural light was able to get in. Everything was made of dark, worn-down wood: the benches on the side of the bar, the walls, the floor. Everything.
When I walked in, the bartender looked up, but he must have decided I wasn’t worth much, for he went back to cleaning glasses behind the counter. Near him, on a mirrored wall behind the counter, sat all different kinds of alcohol. Some were in pretty bottles, others weren’t. He had a tap for beer, but he definitely didn’t shy away from the special, expensive stuff, either.
I scanned the bar as I walked in. An older gentleman who looked like he was drowning himself in the bottle—or, rather, the large glass of tawny liquid in front of him—sat in the far back in one of the booths. He wasn’t the one holding my attention, though.
That honor belonged to the group of three sitting on the stools near the bar counter, as far down as they could, away from the bartender. A group of three younger guys who looked remarkably like the ones I’d seen in that picture.
My heart actually skipped a beat when I saw them. They were here. They were actually here. Viper was going to be happy, at least.
I moved to the counter, taking up my own stool. Three empty stools sat between me and the group of three, and I noticed the three men could not stop checking me out; they’d started the moment I walked in. Did they know who I was? A part of me hoped they did, because then they knew what would come next.
And if they didn’t know who I was, maybe they just thought I was pretty. Most men did. It was a curse… but it was one reason why I’d been so successful as the Night Slayer.
I set my mask down on the counter, lifting a finger. The bartender saw and came over, eyeing me up like he didn’t trust me. He saw the mask and said nothing. “Give me your best,” I said, flashing him a smile.
Normally, with me being twenty-two, they’d ask to see some I.D. or something, but this guy didn’t. He said absolutely nothing as he turned, got a shot glass, and picked out one of the fanciest bottles from behind him. As he poured the stuff in front of me, I could smell its potency. Something like that could knock you off your feet, so it was a good thing I was already off them.
My smile didn’t seem to affect the bartender, and he returned to what he’d been doing before without saying a single word to me. Well, okay then. Kind of rude, but then I supposed I could let it slide because, odds were, he was going to die here anyway. Let him have one last hurrah as a grumpy old bartender before he met his untimely demise.
Emphasis on the untimely part, I thought, running my finger along the rim of the shot glass. All these idiots probably thought today would go just as every other day had. None of them knew who I was or why I was here.
A pity, because it’d be so much more fun if they were scared of me.
I didn’t have to sit alone for long, for one of the three men had gotten up and sauntered over to my side, holding onto a beer bottle. His index finger trailed along its side, and he leaned on the counter beside me. Just his elbow, because he was too cool to take the stool next to me, had to show his dominance or something by showing me how tall he was, I guess.
Men. Ugh. They just grated on my nerves sometimes. I was so fucking glad all these guys were going to die, no offense to the older man in the far back.
He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was checking me out, his eyes falling to my backside, taking in the curvature of my back. Then he smirked at me, as if his smirk held the answers to the universe.
Hell no. The onl
y smirk that affected me and my kitten was the smirk of the dark-eyed Luciano in the car. Not this stranger. Never this stranger.
“What’s with the mask?” he asked, and I resisted my urge to groan. So far, he needed to work on his flirting. He was not very good at coming onto a woman, clearly. Hell, with the way he was currently eyeing me up like a piece of meat, I’d bet anything that he was someone I would’ve gone home with and murdered if I was on the hunt.
I responded to his question with silence for a few moments. Instead of meeting his creepy stare, I kept my eyes glued to the shot glass and the liquid inside it. “You really want to know?” I finally said, the smile that appeared on my mouth far different from the one I’d given the bartender. A wily, feminine smile, the sly kind that made men think I had a wonderful, sexy secret to tell them.
He let out a short laugh, taking a sip from his beer. I heard what was left of it sloshing around; it sounded nearly empty by now. “Yeah, and after you tell me about the mask, you can tell me your name.”
Oh, he thought he was just rolling in stud muffin juice. I could not emphasize this enough, but no. He was not sexy, nor was he appealing in the least. Maybe I liked my men to be a bit more dangerous than most gals did, but this guy? Come on. I bet he and his buddies hung out here so much because they had nothing better to do. No women to tie them down. No good job to return to come Monday. Nothing at all.
I chuckled, as if he was funny. As if I liked his sleazy attention. Before I said anything, I grabbed the shot glass and brought it to my mouth, downing the contents. It burned in my mouth, and it scraped the sides of my throat going down. A fiery kind of drink, one that instantly made me feel alive.
“This mask,” I spoke as I set the shot glass down, running my finger along the teeth on the mask, “is very special to me, actually.” Around him, I could see his two friends watching, grinning, smirking amongst themselves as if they were cheering on their friend to get lucky on a random Saturday in the middle of the day. What fucking losers.
Violent Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem (A Death So Sweet Book 3) Page 21
