AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Ciaran
I like sex with violence or my violence with sex, depending on how you want to look at it.
Relax. I’m not a sadistic fuck who likes to rape women if that’s where your mind wandered off to. I just prefer a particular type of sex. The kind that leaves my sex card empty as fuck. I mean, what’s the point of screwing if it’s less appealing than my hand?
“Stop thinking about your dick,” Finn says as we walk up to the building. “I still don’t get how this shit makes you horny.”
Leave it to my brother to open his mouth at the most inconvenient times.
“Fuck off. Just ‘cause we’re twins doesn’t mean you get to fuck with my head. How do you do that voodoo shit, anyway? Like, for real? You never fuckin’ talk but when you do say shit, it’s ‘cause you’ve read my mind and need to bust my balls. You’re so fucking annoying.”
He isn’t even supposed to be with me today. It’s supposed to be Stone, but that motherfucker is knee-deep in pussy and refuses to leave his girl. Can’t blame him. The fucker’s been obsessed with his girl for over ten years and finally got her. I can’t even imagine that shit. No woman is worth losing your mind over, especially when your sanity is already hanging on by a thread—like mine.
Even though Stone and I are crazy motherfuckers, Finn’s brand of insanity blows us out of the water.
Finn doesn’t answer me, as usual. The guy’s a fucking mute ninety-nine percent of the time, but if you knew his story, you wouldn’t blame him. Most of the guys I know have some sort of fucked up shit that happened to them in the past. But out of every story, including my own, Finn’s is the fucking worst.
Finn isn’t the most fun guy to be around, but I trust him more than anyone else to have my back since we’ve only ever been able to trust each other. I stare down at the words tattooed on the inside of my arm. Cradle to the grave.
We step inside the building, which is a decrepit pit. Even rats don’t want to hang out here. The outside is falling apart, making it look like a witch’s house, the kind you read about in those children’s books that spew lies in the form of fairy tales. The front door looks like it’s going to fall apart at any moment, and walking up the stairs is like taking your chances in some high-octane daredevil show.
When we get to the landing, I hear it. The sound of death. It’s like the perfect symphony to my ears.
When someone is dying a violent death, they make certain sounds. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like a gurgling scream. A scream of anguish and horror. And every time those screams echo in my ears, my dick gets hard. I realize it’s fucked up. Normal people don’t get turned on by shit like this, but I’ve never claimed to be normal. Maybe I was, once upon a time, but shit happened, and I changed.
People think killing is hard, that they would never be able to do it. I’m sure most people can’t. It takes a certain amount of depravity to watch the life drain from another human. But I’m not that person. Do I enjoy killing? I’m not sure. I just know that when I’m killing someone, it’s the only time the voices in my head are quiet. The only time I don’t think about the past. The only time I don’t feel helpless. We all do shit to numb the pain. My coping mechanism is just a little darker than most. Some people drink to excess; some take so many drugs that they become comatose. I don’t do any of that. I kill assholes, instead—criminals and pedophiles. People who do bad things. On rare occasions, I’ve had to kill innocent people, not that I’ve wanted to, but you can’t leave witnesses. That’s why working for the Murphy Clan is a good fit for me.
“Who else is here?” Finn whispers.
I shrug. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
My hand coils around the chain, and I can almost feel his blood on my face. This fucker is going to get back every ounce of pain he caused others. I will finally avenge all those boys.
My foot connects forcefully with the door, and it flies open. “Well, it looks like someone has beaten us to it.” I smile, leaning against the doorframe.
There stands a pretty thing, slicing the fucker’s throat like she’s cutting through cake. It’s fucking hot watching the blood drench her face and slide down her tanned skin like raindrops gliding down a pane of glass. She’s fuckin’ relentless, hacking at him until his last breath leaves his body and his hands stop grasping the piss-stained carpet. What a fuckin’ work of art. My lips twitch when I watch her lick the blood from the knife before sheathing it in the holder attached to her curvy hips.
