Page 17 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

What a fucking day. This time, tears of joy stream down my face, followed by a sob of relief, “Thank you.”

“Your biggest test coming into this will be how you handle Abi, the pest… then your brother.” Fuck, don’t I know it.

“Odds are good that Abi was feeding the pest information about our internal operations. Abi knew enough to provide a pretty good landscape tothem.”

Thembeing the loyalist to The Exiled, which died many moons ago, but like the pest from the tunnel, they just won’t go away until I kill them all. One by one I will stomp on them, making their kind extinct.

We will always have a great relationship with the local MC, they have their businesses which we dabble in as well, aka arms and street drugs. Suppose you could call us associates of sorts. And we have a common enemy: anyone who tries to come in and take a piece of what we own. Key word here is try, because they never fucking win.

This is our town.

Tapping my chin, I ponder, until my phone interrupts my brainstorming session. Snatching it from between my breasts, looking at the screen I see it’s Lucy, who helps keep The Damned in line. They can be little shits once initiated, their egos explode along with their overeagerness, which turns them into fucking idiots for a few months while she puts them back in their place.

“Ma’am, two of our Damned have expired. They were learning explosives and blew themselves up. Weren’t paying attention to instructions, because apparently they know more than I do.” Her words ooze with sarcasm and I fucking love it. It should also be mentioned that Lucy is a bomb and firearms expert, self-taught since a very young age, she could close her eyes and still shoot you in the middle of the forehead. She is a fucking blast, pun intended. I like her… a lot.

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Bury them in unmarked graves. Not even the pigs will want to get within ten feet of their stupidity.”

She snickers before composing herself quickly. “Understood.” Then she disconnects the call.

Papa has the biggest smile on his face. “See. They respect you already. If you have gotten hers, you have them all. You were the first call she made, not me.” Lucy is a Demon, therefore, calling to report the incident isn’t unusual.

“Have you thought about Archangels? Will you keepD on?” Cecilia also sat in that seat with D, but stepped back to focus on her family and raising the kids.

“For as long as he’s willing.”

He doesn’t need to say it, I know he’s pleased to hear my decision.

“You’re brother, I’m worried. He’s getting progressively worse, showing us what he can do with our own members.” Referring to Tash who was nicely displayed on the hood of my Bentley, dead.

“Never in my lifetime did I imagine that the one person most capable of ruining everything we’ve built would be your brother.”

“Me neither.” I feel defeated, exhaustion from the day is beginning to wash over me. The high of learning from my initiation night has disappeared and I just want to sleep, to forget. “I’ll handle it, I promise.”

“Go home. Rest. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Taking the hint, I fix my dress, and walk toward the patio door. Looking out the window, I find Jack and Sally instantly, thanks to the lighting in the backyard, and it appears they are occupied with feasting on a head. What the fuck?

Rushing outside, my feet move at new speeds I’ve never done before, as I shout, “Hey, no, babies! No touching,” in an effort to deter them from enjoying the flesh any longer.

Once reaching them, I shoo them away with my hands and grab the head by gripping its stringy hair. Holding it up, the face looks familiar. Broken bloodiednose, bloodshot dead eyes, and the distinct odor of a pest. It’s the bitch from the tunnel. A fucking cockroach. Someone’s cut off her head and yet still, she continues to thrive, residing in my family’s backyard.

“Babies, no. This bitch is vile. We don’t eat vile bitches. I’ll give you some more of Gus once we get home,” I promise my now sulking pigs.

Looking at the cut made at the neck, it’s just like Tash’s cauterized marking.

“Blaise?” Papa startles me from behind.

Turning around, my eyes look the head over once more. “I think so, it has the same burns around the open cuts. And he said he would handle her after I was finished at the slaughterhouse, but I don’t see a note.”

He takes the head from me, shaking his own. “Go, rest. We can handle this in the morning.”

Nodding in compliance and in no mood to object, I leash Jack and Sally and we head out.

What a fucking day.

Walking home,it's dark, quiet, and uncomfortable.

Confused, my brain can’t comprehend the head, my brother doesn’t do body parts. Since he was a child, anytime Dad and I would prepare to dispose of bodies or distribute them to the pigs, he would leave when the chopping part started. His mind and body are drawn tofire, not knives, not blood, and not mutilation. This isn’t adding up.

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