Page 49 of Soulless Deeds

My gaze dragged up the abandoned performing arts theatre with trepidation, the crumbling foundations camouflaging perfectly with the surrounding ghetto.Why is my sister so prone to gravitating towards damaged, depressing things?

I blew a huff before pushing the “condemned” sign aside and slipping through the small opening of the rusty fencing. The place was deserted, cobwebs and dust all that the antique furnishments had to offer. However, as I entered the auditorium, the unmistakable smell of mould was soon overpowered by the copper tang of blood.

I lowered into a chair, smothered in darkness, shifting into a comfortable position to enjoy the show.Looks like I made it just in time for the climactic third act.

Tied to a chair centre stage was a lone male, his head hung as if in prayer, his shaggy brown hair falling over his face. Various cuts and grazes marred his naked chest, his life force reflecting glorious and bright from the overhead spotlights, shining down like beacons.

My siblings circled him like vultures. Tanner, the staunch overseer, Micah, the epitome of poise and Emerson, who wore a white kitchen apron over her front, entirely drenched in all manner of body matter.

A sense of bitterness rose up inside me. I wasn’t used to being a part of the audience. The play was a four-man band and I was the lead.How dare they keep this from me.

Emerson cut through my tirade by yanking on the prisoner’s hair, his neck snapping back with a pained grunt. Recollection sparked as his facial features came into view.

Bryce was a captain of Vice, directly working under Aster and Echo.

Micah handed Emerson a small pistol, which she raised to aim at the back of his head. Before she could pull the trigger, I chucked my own knife with rapid release, the tip embedding in the head of the chair next to Bryce’s pulsing carotid.

All three Kings twisted towards me with hostile intent, their fighting stances immediate and responsive. If I was anyone else, I probably would have shat myself from the acute danger that the three possessed. Alas, I wasn’t built for alarm or warning. If anything, I gravitated towards it.

Stuffing a lollipop in my mouth, I trailed up the aisle, stepping into the light.

They all visibly sagged with relief–except for Bryce, of course, who had already lost consciousness by the time I reached the stage.

“Spence, I nearly fucking killed you!” Emerson shrieked, lowering the gun pointed at my forehead.

I climbed the stage, approaching the prisoner to gain a better look. I could feel their eyes shifting behind my back, the concern in their demeanour as potent as poison.

Tanner cleared his throat. “Spence, we were just trying to protec?—”

I promptly turned and bitch-slapped him hard across the face, the impact reverberating over his copper cheek. My reaction was entirely instinct, based off his weak excuse and insult.Me? Need protection? I’d slit his throat if I didn’t love him so much. He didn’t react, his only tell were his eyes, the smoky brown gaze hardening into granite.

“I’m wounded, not a fucking invalid,” I said, my seething gaze bouncing between the three most trusted people in my life. “This revenge is mine just as much as it is yours!”

Emerson wavered, gaze hitting the ground. Tanner remained steadfast. And Micah cocked her head in contemplation before answering my screech.

“You’re right. Although our reasoning was in your best interest—” Her sentence cut short with my direct change in demeanour. As if she could sense my unhinged need for violence—that I was on the verge of attacking her point-blank.

Instead, she changed tack, her resolve hardening the longer she took me in with her probing golden fucking eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

My lids narrowed. “You’re not getting retribution without me,” I declared. Tanner grunted, Micah nodded and Emerson blew out a breath, all giving their subtle forms of agreement with my command. “Now, who’s going to tell me what I’ve missed?” I asked, pointing down at Bryce with glee.

He will be their peace offering gift to me.

XX

Echo

Iwas late for the monthly meeting, thanks to my deranged roommate. I’d just spent the last hour shifting Melonie’s unconscious body into the back of a van where an allocated Vice doctor could monitor her condition. Sure, she wasn’t the smartest girl, but I hope she didn’t end up braindead from the lack of oxygen. How was she supposed to suck dick then?

Entering the elevator, I pressed the code to Aster’s penthouse. I wasn’t ready to return to my apartment. I had to cool down or Spencer had to hide, cause if I caught her, she was going to be punished, whether she liked it or not. Spencer had incapacitated one of our top earners for the past month. The money we’d lose that night alone was enough to fucking cringe over.

I swept into the penthouse office one and a half hours after the meeting time, Aster in her usual spot at the head of the long conference table, full martini in front of her. The room was bustling with all relevant underbosses and captains of Vice, vying for favour from their rigid mistress—who was currently staring daggers at one of her underlings as they voiced excuses for their decreased revenue.

She didn’t pitch any interest my way as I slid into the remaining seat at her right-hand side, specifically allocated for me.

I bowed my head slightly. “Apologies for the tardiness, Mistress, I had a matter to attend to.”

Aster flicked an errant hand in the air, attention never deviating off her prey. “No need to elaborate. Spencer updated me on the incident.”

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