I remembered wondering what it had been like for Cass to kill our mother… Well, thanks to Ryker, I didn’t need to wait long to find out.
For the first few years, when I had been too small, Ryker used to deliver my prey to me bound and gagged. Over time, he taught me how to get strong—how to fight.
He had a whole team of people who were experts in our craft. I learned all sorts of shit.
How to pick locks, how to stalk people, how to hack into secure networks, and how to become invisible.
But most importantly, Ryker had taught me that life wasfucking shortand to take whatever the fuck you wanted today because you might not live to see tomorrow.
With that outlook on life, I had ripped through my early twenties in a blazing glory of money, sex, murder, and really good drugs.
As long as I showed up and never missed a job, Ryker didn’t give a shit what I did in my spare time.
Cassandra did… somewhat. She didn’t like that I worked for Ryker. She had been against it from day one.
It was a pretty regular fight we got into… one she didn’t really have a leg to stand on, if I was being honest.
“Oh, you don’t like it, Cass? Go cry into your law degree.”
I smirked at the thought, sliding my Ray-Bans down my nose and settling deeper into the black leather of my seat. Tugging my hoodie further over my head, I tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the song.
That usually shut her the fuck up. She could turn her nose up at the way I provided for us all she wanted, but she always took the money the same way Naomi and I did.
She made enough on her own now as a high-powered Ivy League lawyer to move out and get her own place, but she would always know where she got her start from.
My fucking blood money.
Whatever. It’s not like her hands were lily white. Not like Naomi’s…
Speaking of the angel, she was skipping up to my Bentley with her usual bright smile.
She was wearing a cute little white dress and flip-flops, her bright blonde hair piled on top of her head with a bunch of clips that looked like tiny daisies.
Naomi was this little pulse of sunshine in my otherwise depraved life, and she was the apple of both mine and Cassandra’s eye.
Casshatedthat she came to help me with my…hobby.
Naomi popped open the passenger door and climbed into the car, wrinkling her nose up at my music.
She reached forward and fiddled with the dial, switching the Bluetooth to her phone. I rolled my eyes as she keyed up some T Swift. Naomi was literally the only person on the planet that I would allow to change the music in my car.
“Find anyone?” I asked her, punching the ‘on’ button and firing up the engine.
Her smile faltered, but she nodded, her brown eyes darkening.
All three of us looked similar. We all had dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin; however, Naomi started dyeing her hair blonde from as early as I could remember.
“Yeah. There’s a little boy who moves like he’s injured under his shirt. Kind of like that kid last month that had all the cigarette burns.”
Rage flared through me at her words. My own scars from the burns our mother had crushed into my chest bled out a phantom ache.
You see, on paper, I was Damian Ryker’s weapon. I killed for him regularly, and the more accustomed I became to murder, the less I cared about the reason behind the jobs he assigned me.
As long as the jobs didn’t interfere with my one rule, I didn’t really give a fuck who I was killing.
What’s my one rule, you ask?
No. Kids.
