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PROLOGUE
GRIM
Twenty-two years old…
“You can’t do this.”
I read the sinner’s lips, but I can’t hear his words. He doesn’t seem to realize that, though, and that fact makes my purging so much sweeter.
This is what you get for stealing from a charity, you greedy bastard.
I quickly glance at my cell when it vibrates and groan when I see the text.
Jezebel: Hurry up! We’re gonna be late.
We’re gonna be late.
Jezebel, a.k.a. Mary, has reminded me umpteen billion times about her twin brother, Matt’s, flight landing in Vegas today. Matt and Paul, my two best friends, have been in the military for the last four years, and I’m happy they’re coming home. But I’m also petrified. And I haven’t been scared of anything in a long goddamn time. While they’ve been running around the globe, defending our country, I’ve been slowly and methodically ridding the world of evil.
I’m not at all sure they’re going to like who I’ve become.
Too fucking bad.
Shoving my wayward thoughts aside, I focus all of my attention on the man swinging from the rafters of the old abandoned barn. He’s deathly pale from blood loss, yet he’s still breathing, and we can’t have that.
“Is it money? Is that what you want?”
Why does it always come down to money? Contrary to popular belief, money doesn’t fix everything, and it’s certainly not going to save this man’s life.
Rather than respond, I flip him off as I lift my ax above my head. It took me a while to find a weapon I was comfortable with, but when I felt the power of the ax, I knew it was right. It’s as silent as I am.
My prey opens his mouth wide, and I know he’s screaming, begging, and pleading with a God who doesn’t exist to grant him mercy and spare his life.
God isn’t who he has to worry about, and I don’t grant mercy.
When I swing the blade down and embed it in his skull, a euphoric feeling fills me up, and I close my eyes to savor the moment. My phone vibrates again, disrupting the one thing that makes me happy.
Opening my eyes, I pull my cell back out of my pocket and stare at the screen. This time, it isn’t Jez who’s texting.
Paul: You better be at the fucking airport!
I grin at the thought of Paul freaking the fuck out because I’m not responding to him. After the first few months and dozens of letters, I stopped communicating with Matt and Paul. It was too hard, and my anger was too raw. I know it isn’t their fault that the military wouldn’t take me because I’m deaf, but that didn’t stop the bitterness that the two of them still left without me.
My phone vibrates yet again.
Jezebel: C’mon Grim Reaper… fucker’s dead so get outta there.
Silently cursing the tiny camera pinned to my leather vest, I grab my ax and yank it out of the dead guy’s head before wiping the blood off the blade on his soiled pants. I don’t worry about leaving evidence behind because I know Jezebel will have a crew in here within minutes of my departure to clean up. I don’t know how she does it, but the job is always done.
As I stride out of the barn toward my custom Harley, my thoughts shift from my completed task to the reunion ahead.
What will Matt and Paul think of the man I’ve become?
Will I recognize them?
Willtheyrecognizeme?
I’m not the same person who stayed behind while they ran from the destruction we caused. I’m bigger, meaner, and a helluva lot wiser.
