AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER2
Lucas
The blood drips off the knife. It glistens in the light, a macabre reminder of the life I’ve just taken, while the coppery smell of it lingers in the air, choking my lungs.
I peer up at the body. His head hangs low between his shoulders, his strung-up arms the only thing keeping him upright. If it wasn’t for the chains around his torn-up bloodied wrists, he’d be a heap on the floor. He is gone.
I scan his body, looking at my handiwork. Slashes and cuts litter his torso, his skin reddened where I’d burnt the flesh with lighters and cigarettes. Teeth and fingernails are scattered on the concrete beneath him while trails of crimson flow from the slash across his throat and the stab wounds to his belly. It creates a ruby waterfall. The human body is an amazing feat of biology, but it’s fragile too. I’d pushed this cunt to his limits and beyond.
Hours of torture. Hours of fun.
“You done?” Zeke demands, his voice irritated. My brother is a changed man since he married his woman, Bailey. He wants to get home to his family. He still has that thirst for blood, but it doesn’t consume him in the same way as it does Kane and me. I need to let my demons out, need to feed them, and bloodletting is the only way to do that.
“I’m done,” I say. Glancing back at the corpse, I commit every slice, cut, and inch of damage to memory before I pull my lips together and spit on the dead man. “Fucking cunt.”
He is—or was—a member of the West Lake gang, a bunch of small-time crooks who think they are more important than they are. They run around the city, acting like they rule the fucking roost.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
They can’t be the big men when they’re nothing but vermin.
I will tear anyone apart who tries to take my family down. My family—the Frasers—own a small section of London that encompasses part of Clerkenwell. In the past six months the West Lake gang intercepted a shipment of drugs, helped by one of our supposedly loyal men. We’d retaliated for that offence. We’d killed at least half a dozen of their men and left their mutilated corpses for them to find. It was a message. A strong one. It should have been the end of it, but these fuckers are stupid and reckless. The latest crap they are pulling is scaring local businesses to pay them for protection—businesses that already pay us. My father is going to have to act soon to take these fuckers down. It’s humiliating.
“They’re getting brazen,” Zeke notes, pushing off the wall. His eyes blaze with anger, little pyres burning brightly as he takes in the body of the man I tortured to death. There’s no remorse or sympathy for that fucker. He got what he deserved.
Zeke smooths his dark grey suit down. It is tailored exactly to his frame, and he has quality Italian leather shoes on his feet that cost more than most people’s rent. I know because I’m wearing the same designer. His hair is brushed back off his forehead and he’s got a couple days’ worth of growth on his face. He looks more like a Wall Street banker than a mobster.
“This shit has got to stop,” he snarls. I understand his frustration. It’s pissing me off too.
The sound of his feet scraping across the concrete echoes around the kill room as he comes away from the body and steps towards me. The acoustics are fucking phenomenal in here. When a man is screaming and begging for his life, the way it reverberates around the space is the sweetest symphony on the planet.
“Preaching to the fucking choir, brother,” I mutter, moving to the sink.
I grab a wash cloth and rinse it under the tap. The cold water wakes me up a little, pulling me out of the killing haze that has consumed me for the past few hours. My head feels fucking fuzzy, like I’m drunk on the bloodlust.
I wipe across my bare chest, which is splattered with red droplets, cleaning every hint of evidence of the murder I have committed from my skin. It doesn’t matter. I still have the memories of what I did. Those are emblazoned on my mind, a movie reel of horror that I get off on. I am a monster hidden behind a suit and tie, and I’m unapologetic about the fact. I would kill a thousand men if it keeps my family safe.
“I would prefer not to go to war,” Zeke says, “but if that’s what it’s going to take to make these cunts back down, I’m all for it.”
“Try telling that to Anthony.” I don’t have the will to refer to the man as “Father.” He’s certainly never been that to us.
I dry myself off, letting the rough towel scrape over skin that feels too sensitive. My whole body feels wired and alert.
Alive.
I always feel the same way after a kill. Most people would feel each murder chip away at their humanity. Not me. I never felt a moment of regret or remorse for the lives I’ve taken.
“How are the girls and Bailey?”
Zeke cocks a brow at me. “There’s a dead man hanging a foot from us and you want to make small talk?”
I smirk at him. “It’s not like he’s listening.”
He lets out a snort of laughter. Zeke is the easiest of my siblings. Kane is hot-headed and quick to anger, and even Aurelia, our sister, can be difficult. She has our mother’s temperament at times and can be a raging fucking bitch when she feels like it. I feel for the man our parents will give her to.
“It feels like this is the only time I get to talk to you.” I sound sullen, like a little boy who is missing his big brother.
It’s not a lie. Zeke is wrapped up in his life, and I don’t begrudge him that. He deserves every ounce of goodness he has.
