The security panel glows green as it reads his eye, and the heavy door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, leaving us with an inner door and combination lock, which Kevin swiftly unlocks. We descend into darkness, tactical lights cutting through the gloom. The basement is a labyrinth of concrete corridors, as Kevin described.
“Left here,” he directs. “Then two rights. The holding cells are at the end of that corridor.”
We move fast, and I eliminate two guards who never see us coming. When we reach the supposed holding area, I kick open the door, weapon raised.
Empty. Fucking empty.
“They’re not here.” The words leave my mouth like poison.
Kevin’s eyes widen. “But... but this is where Jax brings all his high-value targets! I swear!”
I turn to him, rage building like a physical force. “You set us up.”
“No! I wouldn’t! I?—”
My hand wraps around his throat, cutting off his protests. “Where is she? Where the fuck is Aurora?”
“I don’t know! Please! Jax must have moved them! He doesn’t trust anyone with everything!”
Penn checks his tablet. “Incoming, east corridor. At least ten heat signatures.”
I squeeze Kevin’s throat tighter, watching his eyes bulge with panic. A familiar sensation washes over me—the calm clarity that comes before violence.
“You’ve outlived your usefulness,” I whisper, close enough to feel his terrified breath on my face.
Kevin struggles, clawing at my hand. “Please—I told you everything I know!”
My lips curve into a cold smile. “I believe you. That’s why you’re no longer necessary.”
I release his throat, and Kevin gasps, relief flooding his features. That relief turns to confusion when I draw my knife from its sheath. The polished steel gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“You should have chosen not to be loyal to a snake.”
I drive the blade into his abdomen, angling upward to miss the ribs. The resistance of flesh giving way sends a pleasant shiver up my arm. Kevin’s shocked gasp is like music—the perfect note of realization as death introduces itself.
Blood wells around the blade as I twist the knife slowly; it’s warm and slick on my hand. I’ve always loved that initial rush—the moment when a man realizes his mortality has arrived.
“I want you to know,” I whisper as I lean closer, “I’m going to enjoy this.”
And I do. I carve upward with deliberate slowness, feeling each layer of tissue separate. His blood splashes across my chest, still hot.
Kevin’s body convulses, a puppet with its strings tangled. I step back to watch him collapse, his insides becoming outsides. The floor beneath him turns crimson.
“Dramatic,” Penn comments behind me.
I wipe the blade clean on Kevin’s shirt, studying the arterial spray across the wall like abstract art. My heart beats steady and calm—killer’s peace, I call it. That perfect clarity when everything else fades away.
I turn to the men behind me, blood dripping from my fingers.
“Find me another one who knows where Jax would take them. Someone higher up the chain. I’m not finished yet.”
I stare at Kevin’s lifeless body, the blood cooling on my hands. The familiar emptiness that follows taking a life settles over me, but something’s different this time. The void feels far deeper because she’s not here.
Aurora.
Her face materializes in my mind—azure eyes, dark hair, that stubborn tilt of her chin when she defies me. She’s nothing like this world of blood and shadow I’ve built my empire on. Nothing like the death at my feet or the violence humming through my veins.
I close my eyes for a moment, and I can almost smell her—that intoxicating blend of vanilla and something uniquely her. The softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. The way she gasps my name when I push her to the edge.
