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Our sleek matte black Ferraris sit waiting for us as we reach them hidden in the lot behind some trees. I slip into the driver’s seat of mine, and Falcon knocks on the blacked out glass. Rolling my eyes, I lower the window and look at him.
“What?”
“We need to meet at the house,” he tells me. “If this is going to go down, everything needs to be ready for her.” I would tell him I don’t give a fuck, but I would be lying. The cage we have for our little Goldilocks has to be tamper proof. She can’t be trusted.
“Fine.” I turn on the engine and pull out of the lot with a squeal of tires. The rhythmic thump of heavy bass from “The Devil Within” by Digital Daggers emanates from the speakers.
My thoughts go to her as the lyrics fill my senses, and I smile. It’s been a long time coming. The sitter needs to pay for her father’s sins.
I grab the packet of smokes from my pocket and press one between my lips. The flame of the lighter dances in the cool breeze, but I manage to light up the cigarette. I pull in a lungful of smoke which slowly calms my erratic heartbeat.
Each time I see her, it’s the same. My reaction to the beauty is nothing more than anger, but I can’t deny she’s exquisite. If she weren’t our mark, I’d have fucked her over and over again until her body was nothing more than a mess of sated limbs and a soft smile.
Groaning, I shift in my seat, trying to focus on the road instead of my hardening cock. It’s been a while since I got my dick wet. Perhaps I should head out tonight and get lost in a few women before we bring in little Lucy. I can’t lose control around her. The mouse who’s going to live in the mansion, haunted by the memories of what her father did to us.
He may not have hurt us, but his actions caused the chaos we now live with. My mother, Falcon’s father, and Hawk’s uncle and aunt are all shattered beyond belief. Lucille doesn’t get to live a happy life while ours are drenched in darkness.
I glance at my rear-view mirror to see Falcon behind me. I’m certain Hawk is following. We tend to go out in threes. We hunt the way we fuck. Together. They’re my best friends and have been since we were kids. Since we left L.A. to move to the small town in the countryside across the pond, we’ve become closer than I ever imagined.
There has always been a connection between us. But it became something more a few years ago. My folks know nothing about the life I now lead. It helps I’m not in contact with them. But it’s no fault of my own. When they lost the twins, they changed. I needed to escape the grief which had taken a hold on my family, and it’s brought me to a place where me and my brothers can now be free.
Not everyone accepts the lifestyle we lead, but I’m happy here. Or as happy as can be because there is still the little problem I have—the need to kill Mahoney. When I think about him and what he did to my family, I can’t help but experience the blood lust burning me from the inside out.
It’s the same with Falcon and Hawk. We all went through similar pain, and it is something which has connected us on levels I didn’t expect. Yes, we came together in our agony, but we built it into an empire.
Our heartbreak and pain brought us to a place where we can enjoy what we have left in our lives. It brought us to the small town of Lakeside. We are well known in these parts as The Fallen. We do the jobs wealthy bastards hire us for so they don’t have to get their hands dirty.
I play with my knives, while Falcon enjoys fire. But Hawke, he’s the quiet killer. He uses his hands, which is why they’re usually bandaged as if he only moments ago got out of the ring. An ex-MMA fighter, he’s found his calling in vengeance alongside us.
My cell phone rings on the Bluetooth speaker putting a stop to my music. When I cast a quick glance at the screen, I notice my mother’s name across the screen. She decided to continue her life in the City of Angels. She’s only there wishing her baby would return. Not me, I haven’t been under her wing since I turned thirteen. At thirty I can’t imagine still living with her.
“Mom,” I greet when I answer the call.
“Cordon—”
“You know my name is Crow,” I bite out, gritting my teeth when she uses my real name. I haven’t been called by my real name in years, which is why I usually ignore her calls.
