Prologue
Old San Juan
A Week Earlier
Early Morning
In the wee hours of the morning, there was something creeping in the dark, and it was doing what it did best—hunting. It moved in the shadows, slipping around, and working in the darkness as it prepared for the next victim.
For they were already chosen.
Chosen.
To.
Die.
The next prey was picked, and before the night was up, when the sun kissed the Puerto Rican beaches as it rose in its majesty, he would be dead.
Why?
Well…
Why not?
If one dug deep, there were a plethora of reasons for his demise, but ultimately, the bottom line was that the man was the one that the darkness craved as sacrifice.
And what the darkness wanted, the darkness got.
That was always going to be the case.
Sometimes, you just had to act, and not worry about the justification of your actions, because before the sun came up, that call had to be answered.
For every death had a reason, and every life had an expiry date.
Like.
This.
One.
That expiry date was tonight.
As he worked, not thinking about what crept in the darkness, it was only a matter of time before he was taken and offered up.
The Sanse, or Puerto Rican Voodoo, craved nothing less than the best victim, and that would be this man. Whether it was true…
OR NOT.
Oh, it looked as if the spirits would feast tonight. It didn’t matter the reason he was chosen, or if it was nothing but bullshit and lies. In this moment, it was a necessity, and also because all that mattered now was that sacrifice.
And it would be brutal.
Bet on it.
There were times when necessity won, and this was one of those times.
As he moved around the back of his nice and tidy home, taking out the trash, and tidying up the yard after a little get-together, the predator was watching.
