Page 9 of Feral Monsters
Ike: Always watching, little killer. Breakfast. Now.
I huffed and set my phone aside before getting out of bed and padding to the dresser along the wall. After grabbing out either Wraith or Ike’s shirt and tugging it over my head, I stole a pair of bedroom slippers from the closet, then grabbed my phone and headed downstairs. I had a feeling if I left that phone behind, they wouldn’t be all that pleased with me.
And while I definitely wasn’t afraid of being a snarky smart-ass, I didn’t want to disappoint them or make them truly upset with me. Just the mere thought left a sour feeling curdling in my gut. They’d gone above and beyond to make me feel at home. To give me security and a family. I wanted to at least make life easy on them by obeying, even if they didn’t always expect me to.
Winston was sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in, and he jerked his chin in the direction of the seat next to him. Silently, I dropped into the seat, keeping my phone in my lap. “You got any aversions to any food?” Winston asked. “Kasey made enough to feed a fucking army since he didn’t know what you liked.”
I winced. “I’m not picky. I eat almost anything,” I said, looking up at Kasey as he made his way over to the kitchen table with two plates of food piled high with scrambled eggs, fried eggs, pancakes, city ham, sausage links, sausage patties, and bacon. My eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do all this.” I felt terrible. This was way too much.
“I also cut up some fruit and made some oatmeal and grits,” Kasey told me. “Trust me, whatever you don’t eat, the others will.”
“They feast like pigs,” Winston grumbled, shaking his head. “Go ahead and dig in, then make sure you let Wraith and Ike know you ate breakfast. They’ll hound you otherwise.”
Kasey snorted as he took a seat at the table. “Sounds like someone else I know,” he muttered, cutting his husband the side-eye.
Winston just smirked and picked up a piece of bacon from his own plate.
Seven
Ike
Michael Smith was a disgusting, scrawny bastard with more money than brains. Enough research had shown me that Merit wasn’t the first guy he’d purchased and abused in every single way he could, but Merit was the only one he hadn’t killed yet.
I shoved my hands in my pockets as I stared at the graves in front of me. The only thing that marked them were crosses made from sticks and vines that were beginning to rot. There were seven graves, all of them lined up neatly in a row.
“How much time do you think Merit had left before he was put in one of these?” Wraith mused, glancing around the forest surrounding us.
“Probably not long.” I turned, facing toward the direction Michael’s house was in. We’d run our plan by Pops, who approved it, but only because of Dad. This was to be Merit’s kill, and Pops hadn’t like it. Didn’t want someone inexperienced getting their hands bloody. Every son of a bitch we tracked down that had harmed Merit would be Merit’s kill if he wanted it, and Michael was just the start. Pops just needed to suck it the fuck up. “We saved him probably just in time.”
And had we lost him, Pops would have had to put both of us down. We would’ve become feral and uncontrollable. Pops let us slide with a lot of shit he probably shouldn’t, but no longer bowing down to his control and going on a murderous spree would draw the line. Once we crossed that line, there would be no turning back. We would be the monsters many people thought psychopaths were.
Wraith tugged his phone from his pocket, then raised the device to his ear. “You here?” He waited a beat. “Give us about thirty minutes. We’ll send a call when we’re ready.” He ended the call, then looked at me. “Vargas is ready when we are.”
Vargas had been salty as fuck about not being included after overhearing us tell our plans to Pops, so this was how Wraith had decided to include him so we could get him to shut the fuck up. He was the delivery driver, so to speak. I hadn’t been happy about it, mostly because I only really worked well with Wraith, but Wraith had told me to just suck it up so we no longer had to hear his mouth.
I grunted in response, then took off through the woods, making a mental note to tell Pops of what we found while traipsing through the woods. The bodies would need to be uncovered, and once identified, the remains would need to be anonymously given to law enforcement, who would then either notify the victim’s next of kin or raise money to give them a proper burial after being identified.
We were silent as we made our way through the woods toward Michael’s house. Based on our months of stalking Merit, the bastard should have been asleep, passed out drunk since about five A.M. It was a routine he had, and neither me nor Wraith thought that routine would be changing just because Merit had gone missing and some of his men had been killed that same night.
For all he knew, Merit was responsible for it and had run away.
I paused at the outskirts of the yard, taking stock of the surroundings. It was silent—eerily so—like even the bugs had decided to avoid this place. I could practically taste the despair in the air, the fear that had settled here from Merit and Michael’s previous victims. It was the kind of fear that never left a place, even after its people had left.
Wraith made a motion to show he was going in through the front door. I nodded and separated from him, making my way to the back door. After picking the lock, I made my way inside, bypassing the room he’d kept Merit locked in. Wraith and I entered Michael’s room together, the stench of an unbathed man, alcohol, and cigarette smoke burning my nostrils.
Pulling the syringe from my pocket, I uncapped it, then slid the needle into his arm. The fucker didn’t even budge.
What a waste of fucking space.
Once all the sleeping medicine was in his system, I tugged my burner phone from my pocket and called Vargas. As agreed upon, he let it ring twice, then sent it to voicemail.
Wraith screwed up his nose as he glared down at our man’s abuser. “He smells like he’s rotting.”
“He is rotting,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “His soul has been dead for a long fucking time.”
And now, Merit would take the last beat of his heart, and I couldn’t wait to see our man bathed in this mother fucker’s blood.
Eight
