Page 15 of Fragile Facade
“Done.”
6
PATHETIC & WEAK LOOKS GOOD ON YOU
GHOST
When the poweris imbalanced within Moros, the town becomes more dangerous. There’s a settled, predictable, confident hierarchy of control here, and Vile House has always perched on top. But that’s not to say we’re the most prominent. No. We’re the power source that comes from within, controlling from the depths of Moros’ very bones, protecting as often as we are harming. We do it silently. Secretly. Discreetly. Because that’s the way of us and has been for generations—since the creation of Vile House.
Over the years, new crews, cults, and gangs have tried to overthrow us. None of them have. Moros doesn’t respond to obnoxious power. Our citizens like taking care of themselves, working through their own problems, and relishing in the power that comes with getting their own shit done. So when a powerhouse gang tries to take over and deal with issues on their behalf, the locals dispute it. Turn their noses up at it. Fight it and challenge it, refusing to accept that something or someone is more in control of their lives than they are. It’s why gangs don’t rise to power here like they do in other areas of the world.
But Vile House? Yeah, we’re the silent partner. The open door—the last call. When a real problem arises, and they’ve exhausted their efforts, that’s when they come to us. And when we help them handle their problems through favours, bargains, or deals, we keep the dealings private. That’s why we stay on top. Mystery and strength. Secrecy and discretion. Support and guidance.
Yates, the current leader of The Misfits, hasn’t learned the lesson of aiding someone in dealing with their problems and creating a level of camaraderie once it’s over. Yates wants to swoop in, overpower the town as well as the threat, and boast about it while taking all the credit. You can be pretty much anything in Moros, but you can’t be a fraud, and that’s exactly what Moros thinks of Yates. It’s dragging down the reputation of The Misfits, creating unease within the crew.
I love unease. Makes finger-pointing so easy.
“They demanded you be here for it,” Yates tells me, losing his shit and failing to hide it. “Fuck knows why. What do you have to do with Vile House?”
“Nothing.” I flick a cigarette free and bite it between my teeth. I’m not a smoker, but Yates is, and I’ve learned to smoke in order to have an excuse to be out here, listening to him vent without him noticing he’s doing it to me.
“You better not be double-crossing us, Sauder. Vile House is a stain on this town.” Yates tries to light his cig, but his lighter won’t spark.
I strike a match and hold it up for him. “Then why set a meeting with them? Why ask for a contact?”
He inhales before blowing smoke to the sky. “I didn’t ask for shit. Idemanded. I need them thinking we’re working together.”
“We aren’t?”
Yates looks at me, eyes narrowed. “What would we be working with them on?” he asks, trying to get me to misspeak and reveal something he thinks I know. All his act does is show me he has something to hide.
“What would we need them tothinkwe’re working with them on?” I counter, lighting my cigarette and letting the match burn down to my thumb and fingertip.
He ignores me, and as much as being ignored irks everything within me, I suck in chemicals and nicotine to prevent myself from stabbing the bastard right here on the front step of Misfit Hall. I turn my back on Yates and look through the front window, seeing Lockan chat with some of the other members who wish he was in charge. I’m Vile House loyal, through and through, but Lockan Tate, Yates’ third in command, has wormed his way in, and I like the crazy bastard. He reminds me of Riot; they’ve both got the art of charming people down to a perfected science.I’m smart enough not to fall for their bullshit.
Lock runs his hand through a young guy’s hair, attempting to console him while he cries about something that happened to his dad, but he looks over his shoulder and grins at me. Ain’t nothing sincere about his grin, and because of it, I can’t help but grin back. Submissive people are intriguing to men like us because we enjoy lording power, but our attention never lasts long.This nineteen-year-old showed up to demand answers about his missing dad, but honestly, if he wants the truth, he should go to Vile House. His dad is dead, and Director has a good way of conveying that message.
“Tom!” Yates shouts through the door. “Get your ass out here. Lock, let’s go!”
Tom is Yates’ son, and he’s as much of a lazy piece of shit as his dad. He comes outside with a gun and a beer, a loyal pup to his daddy.
Seeing me out here for this meeting has him envious. “You rise up in rank while I wasn’t looking?” Tom asks me.
“You grow a set while I wasn’t looking?” I fire back.
“Vile Boy has the hots for Sauder. Requested he be here,” Lock says, reaching his hand out to me for a smoke. “You fucking a Vile Boy?”
I hand him the smokes, trying to read everything about him. It’s not easy to hide a full back tattoo, and I’ve had my Vile House tat for over three years. When I fuck, I fuck them from behind. When I shower, I lock and barricade the door. When I sleep, I grip a knife in my hand and leave my shirt on. The only time I let my guard down is when I’m in Vile House. But Lock knows something about me. I don’t know if he’s seen my tattoo or if he just suspects something about my lack of nakedness when I have a body that deserves to be shown off. I’m not shy, and he knows it, so he’s suspicious. Riot being here earlier doesn’t help…
“Maybe.” I shrug, sparking another match for him. “They’re masked, so I wouldn’t know if I was, would I?”
He leans in, inhaling while his smoke lights. His dark and gold hair tickles my jaw, and his deceptive pale green eyes swirl with playfulness. “But you just admitted you fuck guys?”
No.I lick my lips at him as an answer.He’s curious about Killian, but I won’t confirm or deny anything because Vile House has taught me the power of mystery and secrets.
“No funny business tonight,” Yates says. “Let me do the talking. If he tries anything, fucking kill him.”
Over my dead body.When Killian Hallows dies, it’ll be either by my hand or when I drag him to Hell with me. He thinks he’s my god, but he’s just my hellhound, nipping at my heels as I taunt Death, my loyal little puppy who will follow me anywhere. I’ll lead him straight to her door without him even realizing it.
