“Meet me in fifteen minutes at the same place we used last time.” He ends the call, leaving no room for discussion, knowing that I’ll be there.
Looking up, I catch Claire and her father disappearing inside the house. Shit. I can’t make Markus wait. I’ll have to take care of Claire when I get back. At least she’s home now and away from the fuckers at the park.
Knowing she’ll be safe and content until I get back, I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway, and head toward the warehouses in the industrial park.
The blood in my veins hums, and my finger slides over the trigger. The man is pleading for his life; a slew of excuses for not having the money he owes Julian fills the space. It’s hard to feel sorry for someone when you know the type of person they are. It’s not like this man borrowed money to care for his family. No, his debts are from gambling and using whores. His begging falls on deaf ears. Neither of us cares. We’re here to finish the job.
Markus gives me the head nod. I pull the trigger, keeping the gun steady in my hand. I don’t even blink in the time it takes for the bullet to whizz through the air and hit the fucker right between his eyes. The man’s eyes go vacant, and he slouches forward in the chair.
The sound echoes through the warehouse for seconds after life leaves his body. This is the way it is sometimes. One day you’re hunting someone down for a debt that’s owed, and the next, you’re putting a bullet in their head. It doesn’t matter to me what I have to do. That might be harsh, but that’s the reality of it.
I’m here because killing is something I like to do, and the paycheck isn’t bad either.
Markus turns, looking from the lifeless body and to me. “I’ll call for a cleanup crew and let the boss know the job is done.”
I nod and tuck my gun back into my pants. The first time I killed someone, I didn’t even blink, didn’t even feel a sliver of remorse. I knew then that I was made for this job. Since I’m eager to get back to Claire and explain to her father what was going on, I leave before the cleanup crew arrives.
The drive back home leaves me on edge, and I go a few miles over the speed limit to get to the house a little faster. I’m not sure what it is about Claire that makes me care so much. Part of me knows that it has to do with her being alone all the time. I know what it feels like to be alone as a kid, not to have anyone. I don’t want that for her.
Even if she refuses to tell me, I know there is more going on than she lets on. The bruises on her wrists are proof of that. Why is her father not protecting her from those punks?
At the reminder, I squeeze the steering wheel a little harder. She’s just a kid and doesn’t deserve to endure that shit. He is supposed to protect her.
When I finally pull into my driveway, relief floods my veins. I put the SUV in park and kill the engine before opening the car door and stepping out into the cool night air. My feet have just touched the ground, my spine barely straight when a scream pierces the air that has every hair on my body standing on end.
The sound causes something inside of me to snap, and in an instant, I know that Claire needs me. My vision becomes blurry, and I lose myself in the rage that consumes me.
I have to save her, protect her, at any cost.
6
Claire
Pain. I feel it in every cell of my body.
Pain is all I can think of as I lie on the floor, unable to get up. I try to make sense of what is happening. Why is my dad so angry? Why is he hurting me so badly? Is he going to kill me?
All the questions swirl in my head, but the pain won’t let me think.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Who he is?” My father spits, confusing me even more. “He is going to tell his boss where I am. He is going to kill me because I can’t pay back the money. Is that what you want, Claire? You want me dead?”
I try to shake my head, to tell him no, but as soon as I move, a sharp pain shoots down my neck. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is so raw from crying out for help. My lips are dry and cracked, and I can taste the coppery ting of blood on my tongue.
“This is all your fault. Everything was great before you were born. Your mother loved me. We were happy, and then you had to come along.” He says it like I chose to be here.
My father paces through the room, a beer bottle in his hand. I follow him with my eyes since that’s the only part I feel like I can actually move without pain.
I want to tell him that I’m sorry, beg him to forgive me and stop hurting me, but my body is so weak. Everything hurts, and all I want to do is close my eyes and go to sleep.
“You destroyed my life!” my father yells.
My eyes fly back open just in time to see the beer bottle fly my way. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to turn away, but my movement is too sluggish. The bottle hits me in the side of the head, the glass shattering around me.
Agonizing pain erupts inside my head, like a million little bombs going off, crushing my skull and turning my brain to shreds. The room starts to spin around me, and all I can hear is a loud ringing in my ear.
My vision goes blurry, but something in the back of my mind is telling me to hold on, to keep fighting. Forcing myself to blink and keep my eyes open, I stare up at the ceiling and try to think of anything but the pain. There’s a loud pop in my ear, and the pressure is so great, it feels like my head is going to explode.
Above me, my father slams his fist against the side of my head, saliva clings to my skin as he spits words of hate at me. I feel something warm trickling down the side of my face. One more punch, and I can’t contain the scream that’s been building in my throat this entire time.
Fracturing like a piece of glass, I don’t even recognize the sound that escapes me. I let my eyes drift closed then, the darkness becomes a comforting balm.
Please, make it stop! I repeat over and over in my mind.
Then, as if God can hear my silent prayers, the weight against my body is removed. I force my eyes open, even though it feels impossible to do. The pain in my face is overwhelming, but for a brief moment, it becomes background noise when I see Lucca hovering over my father.
The world around me is silent, there is no sound, and all I can do is watch in horror as Lucca transforms right before my eyes, becoming someone else entirely. Fear replaces any happy thoughts I ever had about him.
There is a darkness in his eyes that makes it hard for me to breathe. Terror reignites in my veins as I lie helplessly on the floor and watch my father’s head bounce against the ground, over and over again like a basketball.
Lucca’s lips move, pulling back into a sinister grin as he speaks, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. All I can do is drown in the chaos. My eyes drift to a dark spot forming on the floor beneath my father’s head.
Blood. The puddle grows bigger and bigger, and it seems like forever before Lucca stops. I can’t look away from his hands. They’re coated in blood—so much blood. My entire body starts to shake when his eyes find mine. His penetrating stare submerges me into icy water. I’m afraid. I want to move, to run before he hurts me too, but I can’t make my limbs work.
Pain blankets every inch of my body. The darkness in Lucca’s eyes fades slowly, and he looks down at my father and back at me. The person I thought he was all along, the white knight, a friend, reappears.