“Very heavily guarded and very difficult to get to.I needed a different approach, and that’s why I became a Hellhound.”
“You joined the Hellhounds because you’d get inside info on the Castros?”I guess.
“And resources.The Hellhounds are very well equipped with all the latest tech and weapons.”
“Oh my God.”My body sinks further into the chair from the weight of all this new information pushing down on me.“My father really doesn’t know any of this?”
He shakes his head.“I thought he did, the day he told me to come to the house.I thought he’d found out I killed Hamlin and Miller.But later on, he said he’d wanted to talk to me about a job, a job that only my face would fit.Then he assigned me to your security team, and I never found out what the job was.”
“So, after you were brought onto my team, you still went ahead and killed Robert Castro.”
“Things got more difficult when I was reassigned as your bodyguard.I wasn’t on the front line with the Hellhounds anymore, and much of my time was spent guarding you.But the days when you were at university, I watched Robert Castro.I’d told myself he didn’t need to die.I tried to convince myself that the two men who’d physically killed my family had been dealt with, but I couldn’t let it drop.Working on your security team gave me some advantages.I started to look at Robert’s security team, how they operated, how they worked, and I soon rooted out the weak spots.The bodyguards who weren’t as eagle-eyed as they should have been.I knew Robert’s routine.He visited his club, the Kaleidoscope, every Thursday afternoon.So, I positioned myself in an empty office overlooking the club, set up my rifle, and waited to get a clear shot.I’d done this a few times, and each time I never had him in my line of sight.Until last week.When he walked into the Kaleidoscope, one of his security guards dropped his phone.He stopped and bent down to pick it up, leaving me a clear shot of the back of Robert Castro’s head.”
The image plays in my mind.I’ve seen how good Fenrir is with a gun, how skilled a marksman he is, so this shouldn’t surprise me, but it does.And it isn’t just the killing itself; it’s the repercussions, the chain reaction that Robert’s death has caused.
“People have died.You told me the Castros killed a load of people in one of my father’s clubs.”My voice falters between sorrow and anger.What has he done?What has he set in motion?
“I know.And for that, I’m truly sorry.I never thought it’d start a gang war.I was careful, made every effort to ensure that it didn’t point to the Hellhounds or your father.”
“Jesus.”I push my hair from my face, unsure how to process this.It’s terrible, what he did, what he’s done.
Then I look at his scars, the reminders he carries with him daily of what was done to him at seventeen, what he went through, what he witnessed, and how he lost his entire family at the hands of three men.My chest burns, my teeth clench, and I wonder if I’d have done the same in his position.
“What I don’t understand is how you could work for my father as a Hellhound, dishing out the same sort of things that Castro’s men dished out to your family,” I say.
He lowers his gaze.There’s no pride in where his journey has landed him.
“I don’t kill people.I don’t kill children.I don’t burn families in their beds.The guys who killed my family were barbaric.They were ruthless.They were murderers.Somewhere in my twisted logic, I thought that if I could go and do their job properly, the way they were supposed to do it, just acting out the orders they must have had, then maybe my mum and sister would still be alive.There was no need for them to die, yet they did because of two fuckwits who took it upon themselves to burn them to death.”
“Then what did you do for my father?”
“I broke bones, made people bleed.I spoke with my fists and my scars.I put the fear of God in the people who owed your father.I sent messages that were heard loud and clear.But I never killed anyone unless they were about to kill me or another Hellhound.”
I’ve always thought myself a good judge of character, but I’ve misread this man completely.No matter how hard I try, I can’t find any words or anything to say that’ll make this all seem okay.There’s nothing that’ll put a different slant on his story, because it’s fucking shit.Shit, shit, shit.Shitty life doing shitty things to people, and my father is just as culpable.
I want to scream.
“This is the reason you’re so protective of me,” I say at last.“You think this is all your fault.”
Fenrir nods, glancing at me.I see it now, his need to protect.The way he smothers me with such force that I can’t breathe.The way he won’t let anyone near me.It’s all because of his actions, because he knows he brought this to my door.But I also see something else on his face—the side without scars, the side that’s Fenrir Therion, the seventeen-year-old boy who tried to save his sister and failed.
I want to tell him that I’m not his sister.That I’m a twenty-year-old woman who can fight her own corner.But this isn’t the right time.
“You’re just trying to do your job, and sometimes, I make it very difficult for you.I apologise.”
“There’s no need.I see your cage, and I know who put you there.I admire you.Fighting for what you believe in.”
I want to laugh, because he doesn’t know the half of it.“I don’t think throwing a tantrum can be labelled as something so bold.I try my best to kick up a shitstorm where I can, but I’m not as brave as you think I am.”
Fenrir eyes me, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.
“Are any of us?”he asks.
Sitting up, I can’t help but wonder how right he is.
Silence trickles over the tiled floor, reminding me of how late it is and how this night has turned into something entirely different.
“Not the bedtime story you were after,” he says, as if reading my mind.
