Page 8 of Soulless Deeds

Appleberry’s face flushed an unattractive cherry, growing brighter by the second. When the waitress was out of earshot, he hissed between his teeth.

“Intimidate me all you want, but you can’t touch me. We all know what happened with the Sovereign. We accomplished that on our own. With no help from any of you, I might add. You may do well to remember that before you refuse our offer.”

“That’s the exact reason I refuse to work with you.” Aster stood pinpoint straight, rigid as a post, and walked out the restaurant. No look back, no expression change, no word goodbye. As if she’d been possessed by an unknown entity.

What the fuck was that about?

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to do. So, like any sane, half-cut male, I requested a toilet break. Appleberry relented and said he’d wait for me on the balcony.

As I veered for the bathroom, my idled brain had two seconds to process the scenario.One: I should have read my homework. Two: what made Aster walk out of here and leave this disrespectful cunt still breathing?

It didn’t matter. My job description consisted of three main components, which I was happy to fulfil… Intoxicated or not.

Threaten Vice, you die. Threaten Aster, you die. Threaten my whole way of life,you fucking die.

SPENCER

I rocked on the balls of my feet, gaze tracking Appleberry across the restaurant. The waitress uniform I’d stolen was a tight fit, the material constricting, contributing to the suffocating feeling I couldn’t shake.

My hands braced the kitchen bench, anticipation and fear writhing beneath my skin. The call to hurt, maim and kill was unbearable, yet I didn’t want to go out on that balcony. The mere thought of teetering so high already made me nauseous.

Appleberry’s prior comment repeated over and over in my mind, pushing me to the brink of madness.

“We all know what happened with the Sovereign.”

I shoved an errant stove lighter in the back of my uniformed skirt and swiped a full margarita as I passed the vacant table, following him out to the balcony.

He turned at my approach as I slammed into his chest, potent alcohol saturating his suit.

“I’m so sorry, sir, please forgive me,” I said, tone panicked as I swiped down his front.

His beefy fucking hands roamed up and down my arms, attempting to calm my frazzled state. The balustrade loomed on the outskirts of my vision, the only obstacle to the steep drop below.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

With great effort, I switched my attention to the task at hand, retreating from his repulsive contact. “Forgive me. I couldn’t help but overhear that you work for Khaos?” I asked with confidence. Up until five minutes before, I didn’t even know they had a name. The elusive gang held Ludus Maximus underfoot, and after four long years, claimed the downfall of the Sovereign.

Appleberry snorted, retrieving a cigar from inside his jacket. “I don’t work for them. Iamthem, as they are me. We are a single unit, working as one.” He spoke with an elitist air as if his statement made any sense. Which it didn’t.Stupid moron.

“Do you know how I can become a part of this…unit?” He proceeded to pat his empty pockets, searching for his lighter, which I had swiped on impact. I offered my kitchen one instead, glad I could accommodate. “Is it true you got rid of theSovereign? You must be powerful to overthrow an organisation like that.”

Appleberry regarded me with a sceptical expression.Did I fuck this up already?I wasn’t used to subtle questioning without the assistance of torture devices.

He leant forward, gesturing for me to light the end of his cigar. When he was close enough that I could smell the noxious fumes wafting off him, his breath fanned across my face.

“We are all-powerful,” he said with cultish devotion.

His statement shook me, curing my wayward panic, lulling the thunder in my ears to a calm quiet. All that remained was the echo of my name—ourname—chanting on the whistling wind.

King. King. King.

If I was anyone other than myself, I would have questioned him further, bled any answers I could get from his pompous fucking mouth. Regrettably, I was not calm and collected Micah, or even calculating Emerson. I wasme…and true to fashion, I held no resistance as my emotions corrupted any semblance of a plan, bringing me to the edge of pandemonium…where I belonged.

My name is Spencer fucking King.

“Were you there?” I asked. One step forward. “Did you hear their screams?” Another step. “Did you watch them fall?”

His pupils dilated at my line of questioning, and that’s all the confirmation I required. I lowered the lighter, bypassing his cigar, the lit end making direct contact with his jacket.

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