Orlov nods to his underboss, Dmitry Markov, who slides a file across the table toward me.I take it, flipping it open.A list of names, locations, security details.Our next targets.
Marianna Torres, our link to the human trafficking division of Homeland Security, folds her arms.“Just make sure the bodies don’t land in my jurisdiction.I don’t have time to clean up your messes.”
I smirk.“Don’t follow the blood trail.”
Nikola, Kostya’s son, chuckles darkly.“Let’s play.We’ll see who bleeds first.”
Everyone here has lost someone to theSpider’s web, but no one outside this room would believe the Accord exists.That killers, criminals, and government ghosts break bread once a month like it’s fucking Sunday dinner.But that’s the point.What people think they know about the men at this table are lies we let them believe.We don’t just dodge the law.We decide who it applies to.
Control the story, control the world.
That’s how power works.That’s why we’re all still breathing.
Atlas pushes Adrian’s pile of winnings toward him and everyone begins rustling around to leave.Most of these asshats have their wives or side pieces pick them up.A couple of them call an Uber.One or two of them walk home.No one parks here.There’s not enough space for one and for two, my brothers and I don’t want that level of attention drawn to this place.
On paper, the otherwise abandoned warehouse belongs to my dead mother.Her maiden name is buried in a legacy shell company.My father bought it for her to work on her sculptures and as was his way prior to her death, he put it in her name only to further remind her that she was the one thing he’d never try to control.
Alistair Ashenheart truly loved only one thing before I drained the life out of him, Cecelia, my mother.He gave her children because she wanted them, but he despised us from the moment each of us entered the world.He wasn’t so bad when she was alive.He ignored us, mostly, too consumed with Cecelia’s existence to worry about us.It was only after she died that he unleashed his hatred.They both would’ve been much happier, and likely still alive, had they chosen to remain childless.
Once the room is clear sans me and my brothers, Adrian reaches into his phone-filled bag and holds one out to each of us."These should be good for a while.You all know the drill."
“Yeah, yeah,” Atlas says.“Step on the others and drown ‘em in a lake somewhere.”
“It’s important that our comms remain untraceable, dumbass.”Adrian zips the bag closed.
“I’m twenty-three, Adrian, not four.I understand the importance of anonymity.”Atlas holds the power button down on his phone, and it lights up.I follow suit, and Caleb takes a cell from Adrian’s hand, turns it on with his own and then hands Adrian’s back to him.
Caleb took on the role of Adrian’s watchdog without it ever being a discussion.After three years, the two of them are so in tune with one another it’s creepy.Caleb always knows what Adrian needs without a word ever spoken between them.It’s Caleb’s fault Adrian lost his sight, and he’s been paying his version of penance ever since, but none of us talk about that.
The phone in my pocket chimes, and all three of my brothers frown.
“Who the fuck could that be already?You haven’t had time to give someone that number in the last, what, four seconds.”Adrian takes a step closer to me, holding out his hand.I put the phone in it, face up and Caleb reads the message over Adrian’s shoulder.
Unknown:
I can’t make our dinner tonight.I’m sorry.
“Where’d you get the phone?”Atlas asks.“They must be texting whoever it used to belong to.”
“Usually I have Mavik steal them off a dead body and reset them for us.Obviously the resetting part got missed.Idiot.”Adrian is already hitting the speed dial number for his head of cyber security.
“Us remaining untraceable is vital, brother,” Atlas mocks.
“Shut the fuck up.”Adrian gets out before Mavik picks up and Adrian moves his attention to ripping his ass.As Adrian paces while simultaneously making Mavik wish he were never born, he tosses the phone in my direction.“Delete that number,” he says to me.“Factory reset the phone.Mavik will reset it on his end, correctly this time.”He emphasizes into the phone before hanging up.
“Am I going to need a new one of these?”I ask, holding it up even though he can’t see it.
“Mavik says no, but if you want one I’ll get it.”Adrian steps back and Caleb grabs his elbow.Adrian knows this warehouse well enough to walk around on his own, we never move a damn thing, but he’s flustered, and Caleb worries too much.
“I trust him.If I get any more texts, I’ll smash it.”I look down at the still-open text.I read the number once all the way through.I’ll never forget it now.My claim to fame in our circle is my homicidal tendencies and lack of mercy or remorse.Adrian and Atlas are hunters.Adrian online and Atlas out in the real world.There’s no one they can’t find.Caleb is the money and numbers mastermind, a true genius.
Me?I’m a killer.
The only Ashenheart brother with literal blood on his hands.
The only people in my life who understand what it is to take a life are my best friend, Sava, and I use that term loosely.It's safer for us to never be seen together.And my Uncle Leven, who built the Accord from his grief, raised me in its shadow, and handed me my legacy soaked in blood.
We struck a deal years ago, the night I killed Alistair.I’ll do the killing, so my brothers never have to.
