Page 93 of Graves

I look at him before looking into Blake’s eyes, a promise potent on my tongue.

“Tonight,” I say.

A look of something dark passes behind Blake’s eyes, she almost begins zoning out as my pressure on her neck increases enough for her to face me. When she does, she looks hollow and broken, and her words come out so empty.

“He was the worst. Jim was bad, bad in so many ways and the orchestrator of it all, but when I was there, in the moment, he was the worst. He hurt me for the fun of it, he took the most amount of time. They all made me feel less than trash, but him…” She trails off, a slight chill running up her spine. “His touch was vile.”

If I was on the fence about going, her words have confirmed it. I’m going and I’m killing the son of a bitch with my bare fucking hands. He lives alone, no wife, no girlfriend. The motherfucker is so ugly, I don’t think he could get hookers to pay him any mind. It’s the perfect opportunity to spend as little or as much time as I want with him.

I don’t likethat we left Blake alone at the apartment. We sure as hell weren’t going to bring her here with us, though, and my security system is practically impenetrable. I know she will be okay logically, but I’ll never not worry about her.

“You ready?” Zayden asks.

I turn to look at him, nodding my head.

Zayden grins widely as he opens the passenger door.

“Just like old times.”

Yeah, old times.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I regret or that I am ashamed of my past. Neither are true. Over time, the more kills added to my belt and the more time I spent submerged in the thick, murky waters of this lifestyle, the more I knew it wasn’t for me. Not the work on the ground, at least. I prefer being the eye in the sky, the reason behind Zayden’s madness.

All that being said, I still get a high from it all. The anticipation, the thrill of the hunt, the capture. The euphoric wave of victory overwhelms you. There is never a more powerful moment you will ever experience than when you take another life. It’s after that things become complicated. The guilt, the crash, the nightmares. Zayden is lucky enough not to experience those aftereffects, but I do, and it’s why I leave it to him, typically. I can confidently say, though, that I know I’ll sleep like a motherfucking baby tonight.

I pop the trunk, and Zayden lifts it fully, grabbing the twofive-gallon gas cans before I grab Zayden’s special bag of toys before shutting and locking the car. We casually stroll through the upper-class neighborhood, skull masks securely in place like we don’t have a care in the world. I’ve already disabled the street cameras and every home’s security cameras on the block. We’re completely under the radar, so there is no need to sneak.

Bending down, I pick up the fake rock that he purchased online six months ago before grabbing the spare key. Zayden snickers and rolls his eyes as I put the key into the lock, turning it easily before pushing the door open. I allow Zayden to step in first before I follow, closing the door quietly behind me. We wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping prince just yet.

I head upstairs while Zayden takes one of the gas cans, emptying the contents all throughout the bottom floor. The house is lavish for someone who comes from a shitty background like him. He lives off a trust fund and gambles away more than he can afford. He currently owes an obscene amount of money to several gangs, including the Italian Mafia and the Chinese Triad. One of whom will be pinned for what happens here tonight, and all of whom will get off scot-free because no one will miss this piece of shit.

Navigating through the home is easy since I memorized the layout. The architecture is quite beautiful, it’s a shame it will be burned to a crisp by the end of the night.

Pushing open his bedroom door, I find him face down on his bed, snoring his life away with a tray full of coke and a meth pipe beside it. Lovely.

I slowly begin setting up, pulling out each tool and placingit on his side table so that Zayden and I can have our pick.

Zayden steps into the room the next minute, shaking more gasoline on the ground as he does.

“Did you start the gas stovetop?” I ask.

“All five burners,” he says happily.

“How do you want to do this?” I ask.

“I’ll let you take the lead, brother. In honor of your comeback.” He snickers.

I roll my eyes, but I take him up on his offer, walking up to Ivan before rolling him onto his back. The fucker is so out of it he doesn’t even wake up. I scoff before turning to Zayden.

“Rope.”

He makes quick work of handing me the rope, slicing through half of it as he begins tying up the legs while I take the wrists. To make things even easier, Ivan has a four-poster king-size bed, and each pole makes tying him up that much easier.

Eventually he rouses, and I’m honestly tired of waiting for this asshole, so I give him a nice little wake up call. My fist drives into his cheek, shattering the bone instantly as he screeches awake.

“AH! What the fuck! Who are?—”

His words die on his tongue when he looks between Zayden and me. His strung-out eyes then look at his tied-up legs and hands. He strains against the rope, which only forces it deeper into his skin.

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