Page 33 of Chaos & Carnage
My heart breaks for him, even though I’m thankful as fuck that he’ll be here, where it’s safe. “Good, cause I have a far more important job for you, Luc,” Cain says, all serious.
Luc’s eyebrows lift in surprise as he snaps his gaze to Cain, waiting to hear about this important job. I’m pretty sure I already know, and Cain is definitely getting lucky tonight for including Luc in all of this, making him feel helpful while also keeping him out of harm’s way. “I need you to keep an eye on Evie for me. The rest of us will be dealing with the Bastards, so it will be up to you to keep her safe. Do you think you can do that?”
Cain’s tone is stern, emphasizing how serious a job this is to him. Luc appears speechless for a moment as he gapes at Cain before finally finding his voice. “Y-yes, Sir. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Cain just nods, saying, “Knew you were the right man for the job,” and I swear I see Luc’s chest swell with pride beneath his praise.Yup, Cain is getting the blowjob of all blowjobs when we get back tonight.
With everyone up to speed on the plan, we all go off to get ready, Cain barking out that we leave at sundown, which is probably only an hour or so away.
As everyone filters out of the room, I wait until only Enzo, Cain, and myself are left in the kitchen before I pounce on Cain, grabbing his arm before he can escape and whispering in his ear, “Do you have any idea how lucky you are getting when we get home tonight?” I push my tongue into my cheek, making a crude gesture with my hand that has him tilting his head back and barking out a laugh.
With his eyebrows still raised in surprise, he purrs, “Is that so? Murder, violence, and blowjobs are three of my favorite things… and I get to do all of them with my favorite woman.”
“Well, I’d like to think you’re not doing that last one withanyother woman.”
“Never,” he promises, his eyes burning with so much sincerity that it leaves me breathless. “Dare I ask why?”
My lips quirk in a cocky yet appreciative smile. “You know why. What you did for Luc, you know how much that meant to him.”
“He’s a good kid. I’m just trying to help him get back to himself.”
“You are. You’re probably doing more good than I am. Other than offering to talk, which is something he doesn’t seem to want to do, I can’t think of anything else I can do.”
“I can try talking to him… if you want,” Enzo interjects, running his hand awkwardly along the back of his neck almost as though… is he nervous right now about talking to Luc?
“Only if you want to,” I tell him, not wanting to put him on the spot.
“I don’t mind. He might not want to talk to me either, but I, more than anyone, probably understand what he’s been through. Dante probably gets it too, but well, you know what talking to him is like.”
Cain snorts. “I can just picture that conversation.”
“Honestly, he’s more likely to teach Luc how to strangle someone.”
I choke on my saliva while Cain laughs, like that’s a completely rational thing. Although, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Actually, I can absolutely see something insane like that being the outcome, so yeah… I think Enzo trying to talk to Luc would be the safer alternative—for all of us.
“I’ll have a word with him tomorrow,” Enzo says, his voice softer when he turns to face me. “I can’t promise it will do any good but…”
Reaching out, I squeeze his hand. “Just the fact that you’re offering means a lot.”
The grin he gives me is positively wicked. “Will that earn me a blowjob too?”
“Oh my god!” I screech, slapping his bicep and shaking my head.
Not even deigning to answer his question, I’m still shaking my head as I leave him and a laughing Cain behind to go get ready.
“Too bad, man,” I hear Cain say from behind me. “Gotta be quicker off the mark next time.”
***
The sun is setting on the horizon as we all pile into three awaiting SUVs. We’ve already decided it’s safer to split up, leaving the cars in three different locations around the fire station in case any of us need a quick getaway.
Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to scout the station in advance, so we don’t know if there are any weak entry points. Thus, our most challenging task is going to be breaching the walls, but once we’re in, the objective is to do as much damage as possible. Kill anyone on sight and fight until we’re on the verge of being overwhelmed, then pull back. We are aiming for maximum destruction, and we’ve come well equipped to do just that. Although, the longer we can go unnoticed, the easier that will be, so everyone has been ordered to remain under the radar for as long as possible.
Dressed to kill—literally—in black jeans, boots, a black Henley, and a bulletproof vest, with my hair stuffed under a black beanie, I’m on a team with Dante and Enzo—as the result of an argument that took most of the time we had to get ready to solve, and only ended because I put my foot down.
The journey to the fire station is silent, Enzo following the directions Cain plugged into the SAT; at the same time, Dante is grumbling about wishing he was in a suit while he killed deserving assholes. I am focused on getting into the zone of the Reaper and, admittedly, it’s taking longer than usual. Not because I don’t want to be here or because of what we’re here to do, but because I’ve been struggling to connect with that apathetic side of me more and more recently. The Reaper was a persona born out of survival, but lately, my life hasn’t been about survival—well, notonlyabout survival. And even when things go to shit, I know I’m not alone. I don’tneedthe Reaper; I don’t rely on her the same way I would have in the past.
However, there’s no denying that her presence comes in handy for nights like tonight. I know tonight is going to be violent. It’s going to be a bloodbath. Mass murder at its finest, and it takes a particular personality to be able to walk into a compound of grown men and slash and stab and shoot until all of them are dead. The Reaper will tuck away all of my human parts and allow me to do what needs to be done with a dissociative attachment that means tonight won’t haunt me when, later, I crawl into bed with one—or ideally all—of my men.