KIERAN
The city always looked better from a distance when you couldn't smell the rot bleeding out of its gutters. I watched the skyline shrink behind us, swallowed by the creeping dark as we drove further into the outskirts. Concrete gave way to gravel, to dust, to silence.
No one spoke In the car. I didn't need them to. The weight of my presence was enough.
The blacked-out SUV rolled to a stop in front of the warehouse. Forgotten by time, the place slouched in on itself with rust bleeding down its sides, windows like hollowed-out eyes. Appropriate.
Jace stepped out first, scanning the perimeter like a good little dog. "Place is clear," he said over his shoulder.
"It better be," I murmured, sliding out behind him. My shoes hit the ground like gunshots in the silence.
The others fanned out, forming a loose wall behind me. I moved with intention, my coat brushing past stacks of rotting crates and collapsed pallets. The air reeked of metal, mold, and the kind of secrets men buried with a shovel and silence.
A man waited Inside. Sweaty. Twitchy. He had that desperate look I'd seen a hundred times, men who owed more than they could repay and thought a single meeting with me might offer mercy.
It didn't.
"You asked for an audience," I said, stepping into the dim light.
He nodded too quickly. "Y-yes, Mr. Kieran. I— I have the files. The shipment schedules, and—"
I raised a hand. He shut up.
"I came here because you made noise in my city. You moved product through my ports. And you didn't ask."
His eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, no— it wasn't like that, I swear—"
"You think I came out here tonight because I enjoy the fucking scenery?" My voice was quiet. Deadly.
The blood drained from his face.
I took a step closer, invading his space, letting him smell what fear should really feel like. "If I ever have to drive this far for something beneath me again… it'll be to dig a grave. Yours."
He whimpered. I turned to Jace. "Take the files. We're done here."
We walked out. I didn't spare the rat another glance.
I was halfway to the car when it happened. Something shifted. Not in the wind. Not in the night. In the air.
I turned slowly.
Ten men stood in a circle around me. My men. At least, they had been.
All of them armed. All of them aiming at me.
My hands slid into my coat pockets in a calm and steady manner. I looked at Jace last. His gun was the highest.
"Oh," I said, smiling faintly. "So this is how it is."
The barrels stayed trained on me, but I didn't flinch. The tension stood thicker than the motherfuckers' will live tonight.
Instead, I tilted my head slightly, my gaze sweeping over each of their faces one by one. All familiar. All disposable.
"…Bold," I murmured, the word low and deliberate. "Really fucking bold."
Silence. The kind that eats through bone. I took a step forward. Not a single trigger squeezed. Cowards.
I cocked a brow. "So what is this, then? Some kind of group therapy? You all hold hands after?"
A few of them exchanged looks. Nervous. Unsure. But one of them, Devon, held steady. Of course it was him. Always too eager, always thinking he was smarter than he was.
He stepped forward, the muzzle of his gun unwavering. "No hard feelings, Kieran," he said smoothly, like we were old drinking buddies. "Just business. You know how it is."
I clicked my tongue, feigning thought. "Mmm… I don't recall authorizing mutiny under the 'business' umbrella."
"You were always gonna go out bloody," he said, grinning. "We're just moving the timeline up."
My smile widened. "Cute. Who paid you?"
He let out a short laugh, cocky and shaky. "There it is. You think everything revolves around you. You've never taken anything seriously."
I shrugged. "How am I supposed to take you seriously, Devon?" I let his name drip with mockery. "You still piss sitting down."
A twitch in his jaw. The barrel inched higher. His ego stung like a bitch. "I'm warning you—"
"No, you're stalling," I cut in coolly. "Trying to look calm while your hand's shaking like you just saw your first pair of tits."
He lunged forward a step. That was all I needed. One step too close.
My boot shot out, slamming a rusted metal bucket off the ground and straight into his face with a hollow clang.
Gunfire exploded behind me as I dropped low and pivoted into the shadows.
Screams. Chaos. Men shouting over each other.
I didn't stop. I never stop. Blood was going to spill tonight. Just not mine.
Devon stumbled from the blow, clutching his face as blood trickled from his nose. He didn't even notice me move. Idiot.
By the time he raised his gun, I had already closed the distance.
I caught his wrist mid-air, twisted it until I heard the satisfying pop of bone snapping through tendon. He shrieked like a fucking dying animal, knees buckling.
"Funny," I murmured, tightening my grip. "Didn't take you for the crying type."
"P-please, Kieran—!"
"Oh," I cooed mockingly, "Now it's Kieran again?"
I yanked his own gun from his limp hand and drove the muzzle straight between his eyes. He flinched like he thought I'd spare him.
I never spare. One shot. Bang!