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Get your head in the fucking game, Kohl.
You were born for this.
“Seeking,” I said, my hands fisting at my sides.
The man’s eyes trailed over my ID, lingering on my name. A short, wheezy laugh escaped him as he set the rectangle of plastic on the wicket, his dirty fingernail pressing into my photo. “Can’t believe it,” he said with a smile that was anything but friendly. “Wolff, huh? You Hiram’s boy? Dylan’s brother?”
I tried not to flinch at my father’s name.
Growing up, I’d promised myself that I’d be everything he wasn’t. That I wouldn’t let him turn me into a fucked-up mini-me of him like he’d done to Dylan.
I wanted to bekind.
I wanted tolove.
And, most importantly, I wanted to be loved. To take care of the people who I cared about. To be their safety when things got hard.
That’s how I ended up here in the first place. Fate either had a wicked sense of humor or a serious hard-on for reluctant murderers. Honestly, I didn’t know which option was more depressing.
“Well, are you?” he asked, turning a thin magnetic keyboard toward me.
“Yes,” I said, punching in my information while the attendant clicked through the screening questions.
If fate, the universe, or whatever fucked up god out there wanted me to be a monster, then I would become a creature like they’d never known. I’d rip my heart from between my ribs and leave my conscience bloody and bleeding in the street. A veritable river of carnage left in my wake, bodies stacked higher than Lady Liberty.
It didn’t matter the cost. I’d do whatever it took to walk out of here alive with the prize money.
If love wasn’t the answer, then violence was my only option.
I didn’t care what it did to me on the inside, I could repent later. Tonight, I would feed the monster and then, once I’d made an offering to my goddess, all would be forgiven.
“Surprised to see you enter so late. Don’t you Legacy types get the royal treatment?”
“Something like that,” I conceded.
Do you really have to be so chatty?
I reached the last field on the form, username. The chattering behind me was getting louder.
My fingers moved before I could overthink it, typing in my usual moniker for PVP shooters.
KillerKohl.
“I remember your daddy’s games, y’know. With genes like that, I bet you’re a—”
I rolled my eyes and hit submit, a big redERROR: USERNAME IN USE!message flashing on the screen.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I grumbled under my breath.
It’s like my life was being run by two opposing forces.
One that desperately wanted me to jump into the arena and transform into the serial murderer of my birthright.
And the one that wanted me to run, as fast as I could, the other way.
But there was no running from fate.
Ineededto do this.
