“Ah. Always about work, huh?”
“Fuck off, Micah,” I scoff. Micah is a friend first, but always a pain in the ass. He’s one of my best hunters, but so are all of them.
Micah Hollis, Vaughn Keller, Diego Locke, Caine Owens, and Laurent Rook make up most of my employees, but Shelby Kingston is my assistant. She is not allowed in my house unless she is here to ride my cock while I feed from her. She is a bit too attached for my liking, but she knows where the limit is before I snap her fucking neck. Although, I think she gets off on pushing me. She only handles the parts of the company that donot involve the for-hire kills, so she just thinks that we do private security. She maintains the paperwork and bullshit that I don’t want to do, and I am free to do whatever the fuck I want to.
“We got a request from an ex-wife of Ben Jacobs. She is one of four wives, but the only surviving,” Micah says.
“Only surviving?” I ask.
“Mhmm. She says that she was sold to him, and the others were killed when they could not produce a child. She was able to escape him before getting pissed off,” he explains. “Her family is the one paying and wants him dead. They are paying extra to make sure that nothing can be tied back to them, but I don’t think that is going to be an issue with this guy.”
“Why?”
“Ben Jacobs, Soren. Do you know who that is?”
“Isn’t that the weird fucker who owns Premier Banking?” I ask.
“Bingo,” Micah smirks. “She is paying a million for his death. She doesn’t care how, but she wants it done soon before he can purchase another wife.”
“Alright. Where is he?”
“She said he stays at the Frankford chain of hotels in downtown Chicago. There are three of them, but I’m willing to bet it is The Grand Aurelia Hotel. It is the most expensive in the city,and they stay at full capacity most of the time. There is a rumor that women are held there, but nothing has been substantiated. High-class hotel with high-class merchandise.”
“Have you confirmed that he is a guest there?” I ask.
“Who do you think I am, Diego?” he laughs. “Yes. He is checking in tonight. According to the front desk, he is checking out tomorrow.”
“Alright. Once her body is taken care of, we will handle him,” I say.
“Do you want to bring him back here?”
“No,” I say. “We can just stage the scene and leave him to become someone else’s problem.”
“You’ve got it,” he says.
I leave the kitchen and walk upstairs. I need to wash this blood off me, so I don’t track it into the hotel. Although it will never amount to anything for the police, I don’t want the headache of anyone trying to track something down. If they happen to make a connection, things just get messy. The last time I fucked up, I had to get rid of an entire police department in some bum-fuck-nowhere town.
When I step into the shower, I drop my head to let the water rain down on me. As the blood washes down the drain, it’s one of the rare times I allow myself to feel the isolation of this curse.I never wanted this life for myself, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for immortality. I have gone through lifetimes of caring, only to watch everyone and everything I know die. Everything I touch turns to rot, and it’s a never-ending cycle.
I’ve searched for ways to end it all, but I can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried weapons, explosions, dismemberment, and everything in between. Everything is dark for a while—as if I am sleeping—and then I regenerate. Somehow, someway. I will come back. I always come back. Sometimes it takes longer than others, but I always do. My entire existence is the definition of meaningless, but it’s only in the privacy of moments like these that I allow myself to admit that my memories are my only weakness.
Chapter Three
Talia
I gasp and situp, grabbing at my neck. It feels like I’m still hanging, but I’m not. I look around and find Henry frowning at me as he leans against the dresser. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I wanted to die,” I choke out.
“Well, stop it. Your future husband expects his beautiful fiancée to join him for dinner. I don’t get paid if you fucking kill yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Do you know how much money you are worth?!” he snaps.
“I don’t care!” I snap back.
“Clearly,” Henry says as he grabs my arm and jerks me off the bed. I trip and stumble as he is dragging me to the bathroom. He turns the shower on and shoves me down on the tile. I gasp when the ice-cold water blasts down on me, and he steps back. “Wash yourself,” he snaps. “I can’t fucking believe you. It’s the middle of fucking summer, and now you have to wear a scarf. You better fucking hope he isn’t disappointed.”
