I’m one of the best Devil soldiers there are. I’ve risen rapidly through the ranks, and I probably make more money than most of the others. Tragen, the commanding officer, gives me a new contract twice a week, and I’ve got the routine narrowed down to a science.
Day One. Stalk. Day Two. Kill.
Like a predator. Like the absolute predator I am.
Liam and Dane are softies compared to me, even though Liam especially has sometimes shown off his sadistic side. He’s probably the loose cannon in our group. I always have the unsettling feeling I never really know what to expect with him. I stuck him with the most boring job, doing research on our contracts. Who they are, their friends, their routine, their background, their family. Any shit that can be useful.
Dane, meanwhile, is the more rational one, and he’s also good with tech. Setting up cams, hacking into systems, that kind of shit.
Both of them, deep down, are cowards though, and they don’thave what it takes to put a bullet in a brain twice a week.
I do, and by all rights I should be making a lot more money than them.
Still, sharing is what friends do, right?
Anyway, I have way more money than I even know what to do with. Even the shittiest contracts get us upward of 50 grand. Usually I’m making at least 100k a week. I’m twenty-one and filthy rich.
Spending seventy thousand on getting a hotel suite for the insect was nothing. Even though I’m aware that I could have spent a whole lot less and achieved the same result.
That result was keeping her freckled upturned nose out of my business. Out of Devil business.
Keeping her away frommyarmy, because I know her well enough to know that she’s the kind of girl who likes to snoop around. She used to talk to me about Nancy Drew as she bounced on my cock. Then she graduated to Raymond Chandler. I swear if I ever hear someone talk about how hot Philip Motherfucking Marlowe isagain, I will slit his throat.
I train my eyes back to Jones, who’s still jerking himself off, while Dane and Liam pretend to gag.
“Fucking hell, man,” groans Liam. “I didnotsign up for this bullshit when we accepted the contract.”
“You didn’t accept jack shit,” Dane reminds him. “When you’re a soldier, it’s kill or be killed. Notacceptingmeans you’re the next contract.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Liam yawns. “You know what I meant. So, how long do we watch this idiot spank the monkey before we go in there and kill him?”
“Stop being a fucking idiot,” growls Dane. “We’re not doing a thing before tomorrow.”
“Okay. I just want to scrub my eyes out with bleach, that’s all.”
I ignore their squabbling. I’m back to thinking about why thehell Jones is about to die because of the Day case. And also, wondering why the hell I’m thinking about it in the first place.
Destroy. Obey. Kill.
All these years of contracts and this is the first time I’m thinking.
The parents of the girl I hate are dead. Good fucking riddance. That’s what Ishouldbe thinking.
Instead I’m curious about the guy who’s currently jizzing all over the dank, crusty rag he’s laid on his lap. A rag that has definitely been used for this before, and doesn’t look like it’s been washed all that often.
“Ew,” chokes out Liam. “Seriously, guys, let’s kill the motherfucker now.”
“Bro,” huffs Dane, “you know very well we can’t—what are you doing?”
Those last words are directed at me. I’ve suddenly risen from my seat. Then I grab the clothes and pull them over my hoodie and sweats. I tug on the cords to make the hood snug around my face. That’s the one personal thing I keep. The hoodie. I know I shouldn’t, but who the hell would recognize me anyway in my faceless mask?
Dane and Liam are both staring at me, their mouths open.
“What are you doing, man?” asks Dane again.
“Going to kill him,” I grunt, fitting the mask over my face.
“Uh… what about our stake-out?” questions Liam.
