Alexei’s gaze sharpens. “Understand?”
My fists curl. The meth screams behind my eyes. “Just tell me when and where,” I say.
Alexei smiles. “Good boy. Let’s get to it, shall we?”
And just like that, I feel the leash tighten around my throat.
The night swallows me whole the second I turn into the alley. The air is cool, the pavement still wet from an earlier rainstorm. I pull the mask from my jacket and stare at it. Even now, just holding it makes my pulse erratic.
That elegant, cruel smile mocks me. I slide it on. It settles against my skin like it was molded perfectly for me, and my breathing immediately sounds inhuman. I’m not Jude Graves in this thing. I’m whatever monster Alexei wants walking his streets tonight.
My blood has finally calmed down enough to thinksomewhatclearly. That motherfucker mentioned my girl in front of the two last people I wanted to know about her. I can’t do this.
I don’t think I can do this anymore, Em.
I’m sorry. He’s made it crystal fucking clear, and I can’t risk you.
A shadow moves ahead of me. My target. The idiot who thought he could skim off Nolan and Alexei’s shipments and sell the product out from under them. I follow, sticking to the edges like Alexei’s men taught me. They trail behind, watching me and offering backup—but also making sure I follow orders. Funny, I’ve never been tailed before. I wonder why this job is suddenly different.
Perhaps it’s the next step of ownership.
The guy pauses at a metal door behind the club, glancing back once. He doesn’t see me. People never look up. They never look into the darker corners, because they never expect that the creature is already stalking them.
He slips inside.
I wait three seconds, then ease the door open with the slow, creeping patience of death itself. The boiler room is a maze of rattling pipes and wheezing machinery.
He’s muttering to himself, walking toward a workbench.
I take one silent step. Then another.
He hears the second, turning. “Who the hell—” He freezes.
The mask does its job. I don’t speak. I just let the shape of me do the talking—tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, wearing abloody nightmare for a face.
He backs up fast, palms raised. “Wait—wait, please, I didn’t— I was gonna pay him back, I swear, I just needed more time. I secured another route by doing what I did. He’s going tothankme.”
He thinks this is about money. It never was. Alexei doesn’t give warnings. No, the fucker makes examples. Especially out of men who believe they have a chance at winning against him. I haven’t known the man long, but he does not take kindly to anyone threatening his empire’s reach.
And as much as I don’t give a shit about Alexei or this man standing before me, I know I have to kill him. I draw the knife from my jacket so confidently that my grip doesn’t even tremble.
The man sees it and breaks. “Don’t do this, man. Come on. This new route isgood. It could bring us an extra three hundred thousand just by the end of the month. More after that.”
The begging pisses me off more than it should. I tilt my head slowly, a wolf studying prey. The mask exaggerates the movement.
“Don’twhat?”My voice filters through, sounding entirely demonic.
I don’t sound like me. I sound like something hell spat out. But perhaps that is who I’m becoming now.
“I have kids—” he murmurs.
No, he doesn’t. Alexei already told me that. People always lie at the end. He bolts for the door, but I catch him by the jacket and slam him into the workbench hard enough to scatter tools across the floor. He hits the concrete and groans, scrambling.
I plant my boot between his shoulder blades, pinning him easily.
“Please, please—”
His voice turns high-pitched and panicked. My skin prickles. Nausea claws up my throat. The drugs warp everything, like I’m watching myself from outside my own body, hands moving on pure instinct. I crouch beside him. The mask is just above his ear, and even I can hear how monstrous my breathing sounds.