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Chapter one

RAIN

Once you perceive the world a certain way, it’s impossible to shift your perspective back, to again blind yourself from the heinous hierarchy. I’d attempted to be a man of nobility, at least in an ethical sense. As a child, I viewed every moral dilemma as black and white, good versus evil. But as the years passed and I was stripped of my innocence, the once-clear lines blurred, and I became unsure of which side I stood on.

Eventually, I ceased my futile attempts to label myself as one or the other; and after a while, I learned to ignore it, justify it with a simple, yes, I did something others would face life in prison for. I’m gaining financially from it, but I helped someone.

I’ve endured countless psychological evaluations, often referred to as a genius or different. I’m not the exception to the rule—for me, the rule ceases to exist. I’m far from a pawn.

The current one, strapped to a metal chair by chains, tears streaming down his face and eighteen bleeding cuts peppering his naked body, is about to discover he pushed me too far. He forced me to dig into his life, and look where it got him.

“Please,” he mumbles against the thick chain biting the edges of his lips, bloodshot eyes squinting against the blinding fluorescent light. “I know who you are. I’ll stop.”

I grit my teeth beneath the white mask covering my face, my brother circling behind him, a matching mask concealing his identity. While there’s no need to hide in this sterile basement beneath a car yard, fear is our game here. He’s uncertain we’re who he believes us to be, his brown eyes scanning my covered body for any identifying marks. Regardless, his pathetic pleas continue.

“Look…” Blade’s husky voice fills the room as he pokes the tip of his bloody knife into the man’s temple. “I have no clue what you’ve done, but considering he’s here,” a crimson droplet lands on the plastic tarp on the floor as he gestures the knife in my direction, “you’ve obviously done something fucked up.”

The blade pokes a dimple into his pale flesh, and he screams around the chain as Blade slices to his ear—not deep enough to kill him, but painful enough to make him understand. Blade steps back, tapping the bloody weapon on the man’s wet cheek.

Cut number nineteen. Always nineteen.

I watch crimson rivulets trail the man’s flushed cheek, following the contours of his stubbled jaw and neck. The metallic tang of blood hangs heavy in the air, but I focus on the faint sting of lemon-scented bleach still clinging to the tiles beneath my boots. Unlike Blade, I never cared much for the coppery tang of blood, but once you’ve been surrounded by copious quantities of it, the weight of the smell becomes easier to ignore. You can quite easily trick your brain into focusing on something else if you try hard enough.

The man seethes, saliva dripping from the chain as his wet eyes lift to mine behind the mesh eye holes. “You’ve been watching me, haven’t you?” He sniffles.

Sliding my gloved hands into my jean pockets, I nod. “Do you wish to confess your sins before you die?”

The man sobs and hangs his head before Blade’s gloved hand fists his dark hair, yanking him back. “No?” Blade taunts. “That’s fine. I may be a god, but I don’t offer forgiveness.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. “Does your narcissism know no bounds?”

“People kneel before me,” he argues, forcefully throwing the man’s head forward.

“Because you make them.”

I study each crimson boot print as Blade moves toward the edge of the sheet. “I rarely care enough to ask, but what did he do?”

My hand curls, strangling the lighter in my pocket. “His sister and brother-in-law died in a plane crash, so this dick took custody of their eleven-year-old son.” The man’s body trembles with a sob as I voice his darkest, most vile secret. “He has kept the nephew locked away on his property so he could rape him whenever he pleased.”

The second the last syllable leaves my tongue, Blade moves to grip the back of the metal chair and rears his knife back. He drives the sharp blade into the man’s groin, and I smile as blood-curdling screams pierce the air. Blade doesn’t let up, pulling the knife back and driving it in while the man fights against his chains. Crimson spills down his pale legs, pooling at Blade’s feet.

Eventually, his bloody chest stops moving and Blade steps back to admire his mutilated dick. “Fucking cunt.”

Hot smoke fills my lungs as I move into the back office and turn on my laptop, dropping my mask beside it as I take my seat.

A hand moves over my shoulder to wave a beer in front of me. “If you have nightmares, you aren’t sleeping in my bed,” Blade deadpans.

Raising only me for fifteen years was a walk in the park for my parents—Blade just spawned one day and never left. I’d always wanted a sibling, but my mother had complications conceiving. Mum was ecstatic when Blade appeared in our lives, and I was thankful for a brother, but Dad nicknamed him Headache.

“I’m not the one crawling into your bed,” I say with a wide smile, leaning back in my chair and taking the beer. He drops into the chair beside me, a few black strands stuck to the side of his face from his shower. “Is he burnt?”

Icy-blue eyes narrow. “No, Rain. I decided to take a shower, and then I’ll incinerate the body, get rid of the ashes, and take another shower,” he mutters around the lit cigarette hanging from his lips, a few wet strands stuck to his temple.

Uncapping the beer, I take a drag of my own cigarette and blow the smoke toward him. “The sarcasm is unnecessary.” I smile as he leans in, shoving the lit end in my face.

“You have no idea how many times a day I think about strangling you.”

“Stop flirting.” I smile as I pull my vibrating phone from my pocket.