Page 117 of Outcast’s Vow

And there it is.

I’m disgusted with myself for enjoying the hunt, but I’m not like other men in the Order. I hate how good I am at being their enforcer. I hate how easily I can slide into violence.

I pull the man up to his knees and lean down to his face, my teeth like fangs.

“If it were up to me, I’d have a gun in my hands,” I snarl. “The Castaways’ desire for slow justice is the only thing stopping me from shooting you in the gut and burying you somewhere deep on this mountain where you’d never be found. I don’t do mercy. Especially for weak men like you who abuse women.”

In one quick move, Brandon leaps up and swings at me. It’s a wild punch, but the man has adequate power in his brick-like body to knock me off my feet if I weren’t fast enough to react.

But I am.

I duck under the swing. Brandon’s fist whooshes through the empty air above my head. I counter with a jab aimed right into Brandon’s throat, perfectly measured not to inflict devastating damage, but with enough force to make the instructor choke loudly. Brandon falls back down to his knees, clutching his neck with fearful desperation.

It’s a pitiful display.

I think about Sylvie. About how I would react if this pathetic excuse of a man touched her in any way. He wouldn’t be breathing by now.

I look down at him. Brandon is openly weeping.

“Please don’t kill me,” he sobs in between snotty sniffs. “I beg you. I beg you. I beg you.”

Yes. Pitiful.

“The Castaways have other plans for you,” I reply slowly. “And I’m not going to get blood on my hands. It’ll take too long to wash off. We want you to walk into the nearest police station and hand yourself in. Right now. Explain to them who you are and what you’ve done. The police in this country are on our payroll, so they’ll know what to do. Let’s see what punishment lawful justice decides to provide.”

Brandon nods through the tears.

“Okay... I’ll do that...”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t want to have to spend my weekend finding you again. Then I won’t mind a bit of blood.”

“I promise.”

“We are watching, Brandon. We are always watching.”

And then I simply walk away from the sniveling, pathetic man kneeling in the snow.

I think about the Order. About their power. They can target this man across the world, and send me to deliver judgment, and yet they still can’t find the Masked Killer?

Something’s not right.

As I march through the cold, I make a call to the Castaways’ goon they have waiting to pick me up.

“Mission accomplished,” I say flatly. “I’ve done your dirty work. Now get me the hell outta here and back home.”

I hope that’s all they require of me. I’ve got business back in New York.

44

SYLVIE

“This way, ma’am. Mr. Levine is seated at his usual table.”

Of course he is.