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Maddox clears his throat and sits upright, tensing his jaw. “My big brother is trying to figure out how to tell you that I’m an assassin for the syndicate.”
Take Me First-Bad Omens
Maddox
Ican’tbringmyselfto look at her. I already know what I’ll see; disgust, revulsion, terror. I don’t want to see any of it. I want this conversation to be over. I want us to go back to pretending we’re normal men who like a normal girl and want to get to know her.
Not the truth. Not that I’m a murderer with rage blackouts and the sharpest shot in the bay. That I’m a man who loves MMA and goofs around with his brothers and his girl but that I have a body count higher than 100, and I don’t mean women I’ve fucked.
I want her to continue looking at me like I’m the sweetest most caring guy she’s ever met. Like I can take care of her, protect her, and give her what she needs. She looks at me in a way no one,no one, ever has before. And now, it’s all going to change. But I can’t do a fucking thing about that, so I keep looking at my hands holding my coffee cup on the counter, and tell her my dirty, fucked up truths.
“When I was 13, my father made me kill for the first time. Our sperm donor, he’s fucked up,” I huff out a laugh because that’s the biggest understatement in the world. “He’s the sickest, most fucked up person I’ve ever met, and he’s our father. He gets off of hurting people and torturing them in ways you can’t even imagine. And one of the ways he decided to ruin my life was by forcing me to kill. To kill and kill and kill. Kill without question. Kill without pause. Just kill, for him, in his name, like it’s a fucking honor or some shit. Like a warrior slaying in cold blood for his king.”
I shake my head and close my eyes. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the killing. Most of the time at least. It wasn’t always this way for me. I didn’t want to be half man half monster. But, I am the product of my father’s creation. Fuck, Iama monster. I’m disgusting for being the way I am.
“Who do you kill?” I hear her whisper, the quiet words sounding like a shout in the silent room.
I can’t answer, because I don’t always know. It’s not like I’m given a dossier and asked to take out a horrible criminal like some sort of mercenary or law enforcement. I shake my head but literally cannot find the words.
“We don’t always know. Whoever we’re told to take out,” Gage supplies.
It doesn’t escape me his use of the wordwe, even though we both know it’s always me. But that’s just my big brother. He has never made me go into any job alone. It may be my hand, but my brothers have always been next to me.
I hear her gulp at Gage’s statement. I still cannot peel my eyes open. I know she has questions. I can feel the tension radiating off of her in palpable waves next to me. Pulling my switchblade from my pocket, I open it, exposing the short, sharp blade before beginning to spin in it a practiced move as I try to calm myself.
She sniffles.
I swallow.
“You can ask, baby girl,” I murmur.
“Do you kill women and children?” she blurts. My eyes spring open and my heart slams in my chest.Jesus.
“I may be a monster, but I’m not that much of a monster,” I growl, suddenly feeling even worse at the thought that she could even for a moment, think that I could be that horrific.
“But,” she starts.
I finally drag my gaze up to meet her worried eyes. Her face is scrunched up in I’m not sure. Confusion? Pity?
“Yes?” I push.
“But, if your father is as horrible as you say he is—” she begins again.
“He is,” Gage grunts. She nods, as if in understanding.
“Okay, so he’s horrible. And you said he likes to hurt you on purpose, that’s why he makes you kill people. Then why doesn’t he make you kill women and children? Surely killing innocents like them would be the worst way to destroy your soul.”
How and the fuck she has so easily accepted this enough to talk about it so simply, I don’t fucking understand. And she hit that shit right on the head. He wants to destroy my soul. Our souls. It’s a game to him. It’s always been a game to him. My brows furrow at not only her easy question but her understanding.
“Oh, he’s told us to alright. Augustus doesn’t give a fuck who dies or what it does to us, or to Maddox. He isn’t bothered by death and it doesn’t matter who is on the other end of the gun. Women, children, babies. It's disgusting, but truly, he doesn’t give a fuck. Innocent people, hardened criminals, drug dealers, mafia men, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s us doing the dirty work and not him. And don’t get me wrong, he kills, mercilessly and frequently. But it doesn’t give him the same satisfaction as requiring it of others,” Gage says as he switches out his coffee for scotch. He pours me a few fingers and I don’t even care if it’s early in the morning, I need it.
“So, if he makes you, then you have? I don’t understand,” she murmurs.
“Look, Cariño,” Gage sighs as he leans forward, bracing himself on the island. “We want to tell you everything. We understand that it’s the only way you can make an informed decision about this. But, we need to know how in you are. We need to know that you’re not going to leave here screaming at the top of your lungs and telling anyone who will listen, our secrets.”
“How in I am?” she asks, leaning forward and mirroring his position.
I see my brother’s subtle smile that he tries to hide. We are all good at reading people. We had to learn a long time ago with Gus. When he was most likely to be violent or snap. When he was distracted enough to not pick up on our every move. And with Ella’s subtle shift in her body, the way she leaned into him and released her tight hold on her legs, she gave herself away. She isn’t sinking further into the chair and pulling away from us. She isn’t hiding inside of herself or running for the hills. She’s leaning into it, intous.
