Page 4 of Vengeful King

I keep my jaw tight and wait, feeling the night air and humidity prickle my skin. After several long minutes, I see a car coming, tinted windows and shiny black body gleaming in the moonlight.

It slows as it approaches me, doing a half-circle. I don’t budge. Experience with people like this has shown me that I can’t squirm. They like squirming. They pounce on it the second you show weakness.

So I don’t.

I stand completely still, trying to project confidence and calm. The car stops but the engine doesn’t shut off. Two men come out from the back left, opposite me. One stays by the door. The other moves just behind my right shoulder. They both stare stoically at me, as if waiting for me to try to bolt.

The window on the right side rolls down. It’s just a crack, just enough for me to smell something hard and burning, maybe cigar smoke. I hold my breath.

“Do you have what you owe me?” the man inside the car drawls. Mr. V. I can’t see him and I never have, but I know it’s him.

I swallow. “No. I… not yet.”

I know it might seem stupid to say it. Maybe I should have tried to lie. Maybe I should have made promises. But I’ve seen enough of these guys to know that they don’t give a shit. The truth is all I have.

There’s a soft sound, and my stomach clenches as one of the bodyguards draws a gun, leveling it at me.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve tried to run after all, tried to get my mother out of town with me somehow. What good will I be to her if I’m dead?

That barrel is the only thing I see, an endless black hole. On the other side is the end. The end of my life.

“That’s disappointing,” Mr. V says quietly.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely daring to breathe. “I’ll get it. I just need a little more time.”

“No.”

My skin goes cold at the finality in his tone. My chest is so tight that it’s hard to breathe.

“Please, I—”

“You’ll repay your debt now,” Mr V continues, cutting off whatever useless plea I was about to utter. “And if you can’t give me the money you owe, you’ll have to pay in another way.”

My brows furrow as I shake my head, trying to get my terrified mind to process his words more quickly. “What do you mean? What other way?”

“A task,” he says simply. “Either I kill you for failing to pay your debt, or you do something for me.”

How am I supposed to say no?

I swallow. I know what the possibilities are; I’m not stupid. I know what I could be told to do will likely be dangerous. Probably also illegal. I’m out of my depth here, but I have no way to swim back to shore. No life preserver to save me.

“I’ll do it,” I say. The words come out in a choppy rush. “Whatever you want.”

Mr. V makes a noise in his throat, and I catch a shadowy glimpse of his eyes inside the car as he says, “Lachlan O’Reilly.”

I don’t understand. The name doesn’t mean anything to me. I’m so strung out right now that it takes me a moment to realize it’s even a name.

“What—” I clear my throat. “What about him?”

Mr. V’s bodyguard doesn’t move the gun. It stays there, trained on me, like a black eye staring right through me.

“You need to kill him,” Mr. V says. “You have one month.”

CHAPTER2

Lachlan

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