Cameron faces me. “Then shall we hunt?”
16
CAMERON
Emery’s eyes are wary,but determined. “Yeah, I don’t want to sit here and wait until it’s all over. I have some assholes on my list.”Cute little Em has a fucking list?I smile as I catch the floral scent of her skin as she shoulders past me. It’s sweet like her lips are.
“Oh? And how will you do that? Don’t you feel bad for killing people you don’t even know?” I pry, hoping to get into her head more. She’s been good at keeping her past a secret from me. Only giving me a few scraps here and there. It just makes me more curious, starved to know what it is she’s done that’s so awful she won’t tell someone like me. Haven’t I shared more than enough to get at least a fragment of her?
That earns me a dirty look over her shoulder. She’s quiet for a moment before she murmurs, “That’s never stopped me before.” The ire in her tone is tangible. I want to bask in it, to consume her darkest pieces.
“You’re telling me you don’t feel bad for what you did in the past? I don’t believe you,” I pry, slowing my stride as she does. She fully turns, eyes narrowed and searching me. I wish I could see her mouth twisted with anger and all the rage she holds close to her heart beneath that mask.
“Believe what you want,Mori.”
I don’t like when she calls me that.
“Surely the tale about mydarlingmother earned me something of your past?” I tap her helmet, and it tilts her head to the side as I pass her. She exhales loudly, and it draws a grin to my lips.
“Will you stop pestering me if I tell you something?”
I turn to face her, walking backward casually as I cross a finger over my heart.
Emery studies me briefly before glancing to the side so she doesn’t have to look at me.
“Mavestelli is a deadly name to carry. A burden, most say. But if you ask me, I’d tell you it’s just a name. It’s the blood of men and the ashes of other families that gave the Mavestellis the power we now hold.”
Her pace slows, her gaze finding something nostalgic in the distance perhaps.
“Maves is short for…Mavestelli?” I ask, bewildered.
She looks at me, eyes so cold her gaze alone burns me. “I was Greg Mavestelli’s little executioner. I’ve killed for him since I was sixteen years old, and I didn’t stop until we were caught. Well, more like until he sold me out to save his own ass.” A breath of shock escapes me. She continues on: “I left many of the bodies the way I did to mock him. To get the attention of the authorities on our family. I wanted it to end, but I thought we’d both be in prison for it. Not just me.”
My eyes widen as I take her in. She doesn’t seem capable of being an executioner, and for the Mavestelli Family, no less.
I’d first heard about the Mavestelli executioner from Malum Squad. They’d been sent out on a mission to interfere with the trade of an illegal product, or so I was told. The details were never leaked, but we all knew it was a dangerous mission. After I learned about the Mavestelli’s executioner, I fell into a pit ofobsession with the way they killed and what they did to the bodies.
I studied the executioner for years, collected newspaper clippings where I could, and learned some of their methods myself. Did she see the ones on my desk and in my book? The thought makes my cheeks warm.
Only, I didn’t know the executioner was her—sweet, timid Emery. She seems more familiar to me now, though I know her by another name.
“The Severance Executioner. I believe I’ve heard of you.” I twist the truth a bit.
“My infamy is alive in the black market and underworld, so I’m not surprised you’ve heard of that name.” Her tone is careless, but I wonder if that’s how she truly feels.
Heard of her is an understatement. After I became aware of the executioner, I started to follow the trail of blood left behind. Many bodies were left out of the official sentencing, if ten is all she received. I tracked at least thirty to her. I was infatuated with her grim depictions of death. They were artistic, lovely.
Lonely.
Her trademark was leaving pinkX’s over the eyes with gel pen.
“You liked to leave your victims in odd poses with pinkX’s.A Lunatic with a Markerthe papers criticized, but I knew the culprit was an artist at heart. I grew quite fond of your craft. Your last victims were a story of their own, a moth escaping a cocoon. Shedding husks of themselves. It was…brilliant. It was morbidly enthralling,” I say with a genuine grin, but her eyes only narrow at the sound of it.
“Don’t pretend like you understood what I was trying to convey. I wanted to make beautiful things in my life, not kill people, so I settled for the middle ground,” she snaps at me. Herwords from the train come back to me. My family’s business. I didn’t think this was what she meant by that.
I guess the darkest minds are packaged in cute boxes sometimes. I can’t stop the grin that spreads over my lips as I take her in.
I open my mouth to retort something snide back to her, but snow crunches a few yards away to our left. Both our heads snap in that direction. It’s a dark night with only a half moon lighting the world beneath it, but the snow is bright and betrays the four men dressed head to toe in tactical gear.
