Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Now, I know what you are thinking. It’s all the same, right? The same men killed all of them, so who cares whose name it is in? I fucking do. My father’s only crime was in being loyal to a man he grew up with and being at the wrong place at the wrong time. It matters because when his blood was shed, it ensured his legacy would die with me. Think about it, if I marry and trust me I have no plans on that, my name will no longer be Scott. Thus, nothing will be left of him. As crazy as it sounds, I would rather have the streets riddled with trails of bloodshed and death synonymous with his legacy, than, ‘he died by DeSantis.’
So, I have been silent. Ghost silent. Unseen and unheard from for the last four months. I have been underground. Not literally, but might as well be. My mind is dark. Black and blank. I no longer see pictures and possibilities. Now, I only see shades of red and glaring, flashing lights of the blank squares. What are the squares? They are where the pictures of my kills go.
“Ahhh. You crazy bitch!” Speaking of kills. “Stop. Fucking stop. I told you everything.” I am standing in a warehouse, in all black, from head to toe, a scorching hot samurai blade in my hand that has been heated over a coal fire which is currently burning in the next room. My prey, he is hanging from the ceiling, chained by his hands. He is naked, stripped of all his protection, all the coverings these cowards use to hide behind, dripping blood from each seared wound I have inflicted. The smell of burning flesh is prominent, intensely recognizable in this place with no windows and no ventilation, but it feeds me. It fucking fuels my starvation. Blood is my new sustenance. Their screams are my water.
“I know you did, Cret. What’s your point?” I swing the sword through the air and slice his dick off. His weenie pennie drops to the floor and his screams of agony fill the air. I know I got all of the information I needed from him, but sometimes, I like to play. Now, I am bored. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head, so I know I need to hurry if I really want this to be enjoyable. “Well vermin, our time has come to an end. It has been… toasty getting to know all you had to tell me.” I spray the gasoline on him as I talk. He coughs, some of it getting in his mouth. “But now, it’s time to light things up further and for this, I don’t need to be present.” I spray a trail of gas from the fire already stoking in the other room to where he is hanging and to the door. On my way, I pull my calling card, my signature, from my pocket and drop it on the concrete floor, followed by a match and then I am out. I watch from my rearview mirror as it explodes.
The problem is every time it is over the empty feeling intensifies.
It becomes bigger than it was before and there is nothing I can do about it.
TWO
AGENT CALLUM DEBRIEZE
Shit. This scene is a mess. I got the call to come to the warehouse district to investigate a suspicious fire. On my way over here, I spent time looking at the crime scene photos that had been sent to me an hour ago. Right away I noticed it was arson. No one can miss the trail of what I assume is gasoline, that is clearly leading from where the fire was started.
Continuing to flick through the pictures, I see something under some of the rubble and the skin on my neck begins to tingle. “Shit.” I can’t see it clearly, but I know what it is going to be and now, I am on alert. My mind is going over the number of ways I am going to have to break the law during this investigation. Damn it.
My driver pulls into the lot, and I can still see ash and smoke in the air. The fire marshal is writing things down for his end of the investigation and I grimace as each footstep he takes covers up more and more evidence. “Agent Debrieze.” He holds his hand out for me to shake. Returning the gesture, I look around and my gut starts to churn. “Agent.” I look up at his eyes and realize he is expecting me to answer him.
“I’m sorry. I am cataloging the disaster. I missed the question.” He nods his understanding as he looks around as well.
“I asked if you have seen the victim yet?”
“No. I haven’t.” Not only is this building on federal land, but it seems we have a victim. Not surprised. “Is the M.E. here?”