Did someone stage the house? Make it seem like we were all inside and then set it a blaze. Did they fake a report to say we skipped town? Or was nothing done, no explanations given, just a missing family and an empty home.
My own jobs usually fall to the latter. I never bother with making a spectacle out of the scene. It’s kill or be killed in this life now, and I’m a deadlybitch.That’s not to say those who made me this way, didn’t get what was coming to them. Karma will always come back tenfold at the end of the day. The same assholes who groomed me, taught me, tortured me until I got it right, were the first victims of the girl they turned ruthless.
Not many can say they trained their own personal reaper.
The cab pulls up to the dimly lit motel and I hop out, paying the driver before heading for the office. I’ve decided to start here, creating a little space of my own while I find something more stable and permanent. A single room in a sprawling city may not be much, but it’s my fresh start.
There’s no one behind the reception counter as I enter, the shiny little bell with a small “tap once” sign, is all that greets me. The sound chimes, sharp and shrill, and my head jerks at the noise. There at the very edge of my vision something flashes catching my attention.
On the far side of the office, next to the window and a plant in desperate need of some water, is a floor stand covered in keychains. A single tear falls as my eyes hone in on a special piece. With only one left, there sits a brightly colored metal box, with little fake diamonds surrounding the edges, declaring the sunshine state. The last gift my father ever gave me—or at least a replica of it—directly in front of me. A sign from Dad that this is the right choice.
Along with the keychain, I booked this room for the next eleven days, just to start. Now that I’m here, in the one place that occupied every life dream I had as a child, my body feels at peace. I don’t know why it took me this long to make it to Miami. Fear more than likely. Scared I would get here only to have to leave again, worried that it didn’t live up to the images in my head. Now, with my mind made up, and my body ready to fight back, this feels like the only place to make my stand.
Falling onto the bed, exhaustion is quick to consume me. I’ve been on the move for a full thirty hours. Criss-crossing, doubling-back, and never slowing down, to make sure I wasn’t followed. Old habits die hard, but at least it’s better to be safe than sorry.
My body protests, my bones practically creaking as I maneuver off the bed once more and dig for the cup of noodles in my bag. Sustenance is calling my name, and after it will be a night of rest. Tomorrow I can explore, see the sights and embrace my surroundings.
Eleven years I was under Colt’s thumb. Him and his gang controlled every aspect of my life, from the time I woke up to when my eyes closed at night. The first three years were spent in a secluded cabin on some remote coast of New Zealand, while they “trained me.” I was to become their new weapon. Assassin, seductress, stress relief; three roles wrapped into one bloodthirsty package.
I was beaten, tortured, assaulted, and violated. The punishments kept getting more severe, until I got right whatever they were trying to teach me. Failure brought unimaginable pain that never really went away, until I was no more than a hollow shell. Beaten into complete submission and unable to fight back. That’s when the real jobs started.
In the dead of night, I was shipped off to a location in the middle of the Nevada desert. Cleaned up, made presentable, and sent on mission after mission with little rest. I complied, biding my time and gathering as much information as I could. My dad’s advice always lingering in the back of my head as I worked on my mental strength. I waited. I endured. Until the time was right.
It took eight more long and painful years, but the time did come and I ran. Fast and far, I got away from Colt and the Havoc Vipers, never looking back. I’ve run for a full year, knowing that he’s still chasing me. He’s even gotten close on a few occasions.Too close.If I slip, if I make a mistake and he gets me, there’s no way he would ever let me go. I know too much, have seen too much, and I’m their best—though only one guard ever openly admitted that.
No, I’m confident enough to say that if I were to return to the company of the Havoc Vipers… I would die there.
The sound of the kettle draws me back to reality. Its squeal ringing through my head, fueling the budding headache I already have thanks to the dark memories of my past.
Some days are harder than others, to remember I’m no longer part of that world. No longer having to listen to those bastards. I’m in control of my life now, and it’s time to start living it.
Full of noodles and clean from the shower, I curl up under the covers ready for unconsciousness to take me. Tomorrow I’m going to explore this city. Relish in the warmth of the sun, and the salty smell of the ocean. Tomorrow the running stops and I fight back, but tonight…
Tonight, I’ll sleep.
Chapter Two
Max
Today is supposed to be my day off, but are there really any days off when you own the business? The answer to that is a big, fatno. I may not be in the shop today, but there’s still inventory to approve and a purchase order to make. Not to mention, I have a meeting with a client at some cafe on the beach later for a consultation. My days are so packed lately that I feel like I’m always on the go. Ry keeps telling me I need to hire an assistant and a vice-manager-something-or-other, to take over all this mental crap. He’s been on my case about focusing my time on things I enjoy outside of my work, or at least focusing a little bit more on our search.
It’s been twelve years since the day that plunged us into the darkest depths of hell. The day that is the sole reason for every nightmare, bad mood, and lonely night. Kade, Ry, Zane, and myself all became a lot closer after that. Not that weweren’t close before, but there’s something to be said when you’re bearing the same emotional wounds.
The years dragged on in that small town. Especially seeing her house sit there day after day, abandoned and quiet. The first chance that we came across, we got the hell out of Texas and moved to Miami. We needed a fresh start, a new place, but we never stopped looking for her.
Our Bear.
I remember everything about her as clear as a summer day. The brightness her eyes carried and the soft pink glow her cheeks took on whenever we teased her. How her laugh radiated out of her like a beacon of light, or how she still smiled while telling us our jokes weren’t funny. Even years later, I still think about the last day we all got to spend together, how much fun we had at the lake and how we were all still innocent back then.
My mind still refuses to wrap around the idea that someone could cause harm to that family. A family who had it in their kind hearts to openly accept both my father and myself. People who made sure we were welcomed, taken care of, and fed. Mr. & Mrs. Grant were just as much parents to me as they were to Addy, Zane, or any of the others. To see all that blood… to fear the worst… It broke not only us but the entire community at large.
It took some time but we each found specific ways to release the emotions that had been consuming us for years. Our own rituals to redirect the pain and anger. It worked really well for Z and me, but I still see the lingering anguish in Ry’s eyes, and Kade, well, he’s hard to read.
He threw himself into computers and technology. Became an expert and took the reins on our search for our missing piece. He’s never stopped—not once—in his quest to find her. Sometimes, I don’t think he sleeps, as he continues to hack his way into networks that can help us. We’ve been through everything, facial recognition software, satellite imagery, even special forces databases; anything he can get into to help locate her.
Zane and Ryder both took up fighting professionally. Using the physical pain of their fists hitting someone else to replace the anguish in their souls. The anger being used to punish the enemy within the ring, since they can’t get to the realthing. Zane’s emotions bleed into his bouts, pouring out and fueling him to push farther, hit harder. Ry is more reserved, keeping his true feelings close to his chest, and leaving the bleeding to his opponents.
Personally, I find my solace in the quiet. Where I can think and reminisce, letting my memories and thoughts wash over me in a way that calms the conflicting emotions. Feeling the sand between my toes, and the waves crashing along the beach like a melody of peace. Remembering the tiny details about Addison, not that I’d ever be able to forget.
