Page 36 of Black Castle

And tomorrow morning, he will purchase the Moscow Chronicles—the popular newspaper—just to be sure tonight’s escapade has been documented:

‘The Crimson Artisan Strikes Again’.

They better get the details of the murders right this time. His mind reels back to the favorite quote he has ever read. That one is dated back to eight years ago.

‘The Crimson Artisan, a killer with a surgical hand, and an artist’s eye. Each body is his canvas, each mutilation a masterpiece.’

Zev tucked the Moscow Chronicles edition that featured that particular article in a safe deep inside the closet. It’s a treasure, a precious art he must protect. If he ever gets irrelevant and forgotten, he will pull it out and remind them again why he shouldn’t be forgotten.

A staccato of footsteps reverberates in the room as two soldiers file in on cue to do what they know without being told; they will take the body, strip it for anything of value—the organs, if they are in good condition—sell them for millions, then toss whatever is left into the incinerator, reducing it to nothing but ashes.

While the soldiers circle the body, Zev feels a vibration in his pocket. A bloodied hand slips into the pocket only to return with a cell phone.

Vivienne, the caller’s ID, reads, and a devious smile lifts the corner of his lips.

“Vivienne,” he hums, his tongue curled inward and pressing against the wall of his left cheek.

Wicked, mean ideas swivel in his sick, twisted head at the idea of who this Vivienne is. How nice that her name is even saved with a heart beside it.

He knows he didn’t save this number, which only means one thing; while he was chained away as always, his twin brother, Lucan, has been very busy.

Zev never knew Lucan Raskovic had it in him. A girlfriend? Since when? Who would’ve thought Lucan Raskovic, a social recluse, hates being touched, a virgin at thirty-two, would ever have a girlfriend?

Zev’s thoughts spiral. Is this why he stumbled across a record of two unwarranted trips to the United States within a month—none which were for work? He remembers finding it very unusual when he saw the records earlier today. The last time he checked, he and his twin brother particularly hate that country because people are always trying to kill them.

So, is this Vivienne the reason for Lucan’s trips? Has Zev’s twin brother, his other half, his other self, fallen in love?

A sick kind of amusement slithers through Zev as he finally swipes at the screen to answer the call.

But before he can even speak, a violent, thrashing sensation rips through his skull. His vision distorts, twisting at the end like heat waves over burning asphalt. A weight presses against his mind, a force clawing and shoving at the walls of his consciousness.

That son of a bitch.

Lucan is trying to take back control.

Barely twenty-four hours since Zev finally emerged and already the fucker wants to snatch back control from him? The audacity almost makes Zev laugh. For God’s sake, Lucan intentionally chained him for weeks, smothering his existence like he is some filthy secret. And now, when he has finally stepped back into his rightful place, he is being forced to return to the shadow?

Why?

Because of her?

Now that Zev knows about the little girlfriend, is Lucan afraid? Trying to protect her from him? Is that why he kept him locked away for weeks now? Why he turned reckless enough for the ledger that held their entire empire within its pages to be stolen away right from under his nose?

Zev inhales sharply, each question answering itself. He grits his teeth, his fingers twitching on his side.

His muscles are rigid with barely contained fury.

For weeks he has been locked away, curled up in the darkness with no sound and no color. When he finally stepped out, he barely had time to go hunting for prey, and instead, was stuck searching desperately for a ledger whose disappearance has nothing to do with him but his stupid brother. And now that stupid brother is trying to take back control of him?

That pathetic love-struck fool. Got carried away playing Prince Charming that he lost the fucking ledger.

Zev’s gaze flickers to the corpse sprawled a few feet away. The soldiers are still trying to figure out how to haul him away. Blood still pools beneath the body, soaking into the cracks of the concrete, the scent dancing in the air like a metallic perfume.

The sight soothes Zev. Just a little, though.

“Hello?” a feminine voice whispers from the phone clenched in his bloody and sticky hand. “Are you still there? Hi? Hello?”

Zev’s lips curl in a slow, dangerous grin.

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