Page 1

Chapter one

Damien

‘Erase The Pain’- Palisades

‘Disguise’- Motionless In White

Six Months Ago

“Breach in three…two…one…” I raise my foot quickly, slamming the bottom into the door, right by the handle. The cracking from the door breaking rings through the room as the captive women begin to scream. They don’t know us, or that we were coming for them, and at least they were used to the threat at their feet. I get the hesitation. Stay with the threat you know or put your faith in that the threat in front of you isn’t as bad as the current?

The moment we entered, the harsh chemical smells flooded my nose, knocking back a few brain cells at least. Ammonia, battery acid, and paint thinner cloud the air around us. Heavy humidity and filth surround us, and that’s not accounting for the targets standing on the opposite side of the room. Ten of them, five of us, and six girls. Simple enough. With Zeke, Alex, and Chris getting the women to safety, Henry and I can take the men alone. My guys can come back once the women are safely escorted out, they’re our primary objective after all, and once their out of harm’s way, we can move forward.

My hands have become so accustomed to holding a gun, I feel like it’s missing when I don’t hold the gripped metal. The training I received from my father assured me of that. So, when I raise it to the first man attempting to draw his weapon, I don’t falter. One quick shot to the head and he’s on his back. If any of their men were unaware of our presence, they’re aware of it now.

The moment the bullet hit, I could smell the sweet crimson in the air. Billowing towards me like an approaching storm. The humidity in this warehouse is now serving a purpose. It carries my vice through the air, allowing it to seep into every pore of my body. I know I shouldn’t, but I know I’m going to sleep very well tonight.

I’ve asked myself thousands of times over the past few years why I feel such relief after I kill. Trying to justify it by saying that I’m taking evil out of the world, but the thought of my first kill only continues to cast out that accusation.

My father meant well, only allowing me my first kill so if and when I had to do it again, I wouldn’t hesitate. I don’t think he knew he was creating a monster, but he damn sure made it so I would be hard to stop. If I could be stopped at all.

A man rushes me from my right, and I yank my knife out of its sheath. Throwing out my left fist, he stumbles, and I take the opportunity to strike. I grab him with my left hand, balling the material of his shirt and I plunge my knife into his stomach twice with my right. Finishing him off with a quick jab into his eye socket. He didn’t even have time to scream before the point of my blade sunk into his brain, but now he’ll be more useful than before.

His body is now a barrier between me and the incoming gun fire. I release my knife, keeping it lodged in his skull, as I fist my gun once more. Aiming out, I fire a round into one’s chest, and move on to the one behind him. The distance is now too short to readjust, so I shove the body in my hands into him, the dead weight knocking him to the floor. Subtle footsteps are coming from my right, and my ears immediately pick it up. He’s trying to be sneaky.

I jab out to my right with the gun, and I’m not surprised that I hit a man on the temple with the butt of it. He stammers back, and that gives me enough distance to aim out and pull the trigger. It instantly stops his movements and I watch as he falls to the floor with a trail of blood following him.

I turn back to the other man, still adjusting to the dead weight of his fellow worker and raise my pistol to finish him off as well. The muscles in my arm have become so accustomed to the action, that the kick-back is almost non-existent.

Turning to my left towards the hallway, I see two more men running in, guns drawn and pointed to Henry. He's so busy with his own victim that he doesn’t hear them, and by the time he did, it’d be too late. I aim, pull two quick shots, and all other gunfire ceases. Their bodies drop one on top of the other like I piled them up for show. I take just a moment to savor the quick victory, inhaling my nightly fix of carnage as Chris runs into the room from down the hall.

“Fan out!” I yell to my men. My boisterous voice echoing off the walls. “Be sure we’re not missing anyone!” Henry and Chris start to scramble, checking rooms and hallways before Henry walks back in with a wicked grin on his face.

“Jesus Christ, D, you only gave me three of them!” He says with a grin. His shorter, brown, spiked hair now looking disheveled and messy while his eyes look black from his pupils blown from the pleasure.

“Well, you want more? Get faster. Oh, and more accurate.” I smirk and flash my white smile at him.

“Fuck you, dick wipe.” We laugh as I yank my favorite knife out of the man’s skull. The squelching noise sending a repulsive, yet satisfying, shiver down my spine.

“D!” I hear Zeke’s needy yell, and I immediately run in his direction. My heavy footsteps slamming against the concrete, sounding sturdy and sharp. Entering the small room, I see one of the captive girls. Young, late teens to early twenties. Long, curly, ginger hair, watery and blood shot green eyes, sunken and bruised face. She’s naked, just like the other girls. I gesture back with my head, signaling for one of my men to run and grab a blanket.

Once we get them out into the van, we have clothing and warm drinks waiting, so until I get that blanket, I’m sure to only keep eye contact with her. These girls go through enough, they don’t need us assessing the damage. That’s what Danielle and Lauren are for, behind closed doors. When we can, we don’t even escort them out. Lauren and Dani do that for us, but we didn’t have that luxury tonight. We don’t have a lot of time, and the drugs and dealers needed to be handled at all costs.

“Stop right there or I'll fucking shoot him!” She screams out with trembling words, holding one of the warehouse guards by gunpoint. Her grip is shaky at best, and the man she’s holding looks much more afraid of us than her. He’s probably wondering why we’re hesitating, wondering when we’re going to grab her up and jerk her around like they do.

Piece of shit .

“I think she’s in shock, man. I tried telling her we’re here to get her out, but it’s like she can’t hear me.” Zeke says, his voice laced with a hint of worry.

I slowly walk up to her as she presses the gun to his temple. She looks directly into my eyes, and she begins to focus on them. Her pupils contracting from the concentration. I think it’s the color that draws women in. The icy, teal blue helps in situations like this. The mix of cool colors calms their nerves as they try to pick out each shard.

My mom always said our eyes were like kaleidoscopes. Fragments of always changing colors that morph with our movements. Any blue ranging from an almost icy white to the deepest of navy, I’ve seen in our eyes. There’s a term for our genetic color, but I can never remember what it is, some kind of natural polymorphism. It’s very rare, but is definitely a dominant gene in my family. My mother has it, her father had it, my sister had it as well…

“We’re not here for him.” I say as calmly as I can to her, sure to keep my voice as smooth as possible. “We’re Devil’s Hands, a local vigilante group, and we’re here to take you home. You’re safe now.” When I don’t see a change in her expression or concentration, I quickly pull my pistol, point, and shoot the man between the eyes.

She shudders, and screams a little, before dropping his lifeless body. Her gaping mouth and wide eyes leads me to believe that the notion was the worst she’s seen in her time here, and a part of that makes me feel better for her. Knowing that she hasn’t been completely destroyed by the animals that once occupied this building.

I know there are probably a hundred other ways I could have handled that situation, but she was not in the right mind to listen. Adrenaline and shock were wracking her brain, and I needed her to understand the need for her cooperation sooner than later. We don’t have time for pleasantries.

I gently grab her wrist, taking the gun gently and passing it behind me so she doesn’t start shooting in her panic. The last thing this woman needs is something as tormenting as murder on her conscience. I place my hand behind her shoulder and lightly gesture her forward to help lead her out. She looks back up to me with shaky eyes, but then releases a held in breath, and nods, signaling her understanding.

Step by step, we walk out of the room where Henry hands me one of our blankets. I wrap it around her and hold it closed as I walk her out of the building. A part of me wishes we had softer blankets, but these are designed to trap heat. So, while they’re not necessarily for comfort, they give the women the warmth their cold and depraved bodies need. I gently raise my hand up to my earpiece so I can dispatch through our technical specialist.

“Carter? Time for a cleanup crew.”

“On it, D.” His concerned but stern voice chimes through as we step out into the dry night air. The outdoor lights hanging from the warehouse’s exterior walls flash around us, showcasing the building’s neglect.

Once we reach the van, the girl easily climbs inside with the others, and holds onto one of the younger ones. This one can’t be older than fourteen years old, and she has dirty blonde hair with blue eyes that should be much brighter than they appear now. The sight of her sends a sting of pain through my chest…

“Thank you.” She tells me, and I nod once to her, quickly ending the conversation and shut the door. My hands lingers on the cold metal door, bracing myself from the memory. The pain fighting to resurface, even after all of these years. I quickly shove it back down, swallowing it with a harsh gulp, and walk around to the passenger side door.

“Dani’s waiting at rendezvous three. Take them, get them clean, and she’ll help transport them. Make sure everyone knows to head to the house once they’re settled.” I say to Alex through gritted teeth, and he and Chris pull off into the night.

Grabbing the can of spray paint from Zeke, royal blue like we always use, I walk over to the warehouse walls and swiftly spray the calligraphy DH. The paint fights to stick on the dirt covered walls, but does anyway. Tagging is always the last thing we do, like it’s a sign that the worst part is over, and the mission is complete. Zeke, Henry, and I turn to head back.

“Good job guys. Let’s go home.” I say, leaving the past behind along with the other ghosts that now inhabit the building.

“I hope we didn’t miss it!” Henry says as he speed walks towards my vehicle.

“Nah, our phones would be blowing up. It’s Kit’s first, there’s no way it happened that quick. We’ll have all night before we toast. We’ll be drunk as hell before that comes.” Zeke says as he hops in the passenger seat.

“Who the fuck says you get shotty? I did the killing!” Henry whines and points to himself.

“Not much of it.” I snap back and he scowls playfully. “Let's go you little shits.” I don’t know why I love fucking with them so much, or call them little. We’re all around the same age. Hell, Zeke is my age, and twenty-seven definitely isn’t little, but I suppose with how close we are, it's easy to mess with them.

We hop into my Audi R-27, and the moment I turn the engine over, Zeke blares ‘Erase the Pain’ by Palisades over the sound system. Henry is more of a country guy, but he puts up with me and Zeke’s shit on nights like this. I'm dying for a fucking cigarette right about now, but if I hear Marissa, Henry’s wife, bitch again about the smell, I might yank my ears off.

The drive back to my house is peaceful, even with the loud screams and guitar riffs playing through the stereo. It’s almost Halloween, so the air is crisp with the cold, and the enticing smell of decaying leaves swarms the air. I wish I had taken my bike out tonight, but there’s no way I’d let Zeke or Henry ride bitch. If they were to wrap their arms around my torso and hold onto me like any other backpack, I’d knock them the fuck out. We're close, but nowhere near that close.

As soon as we pull through the front gates, up the long driveway, and park in my garage, the boys hop out and storm into the house like a couple of kids, but instead of expecting sweets and grandma’s cookies when they walk through the door, they immediately ravage the fridge for beer and go through the cabinet of liquor. Marissa is going to be so fucking mad when he comes home drunk as a fish in the morning, but at least it’s for a good reason this time. She’s just mad she can’t participate.

Avoiding the door that leads to the inside of the house and the music pouring from it, I make my way into the side room of the garage. This is Carter’s second set up, the first being at the Basement. He doesn’t use this one quite as often, but on nights like tonight when we gather, it really comes in handy.

“Alright, give me the run down before you sign off.” I tell him as I walk up behind him in his natural element. He looks content sitting behind a desk with countless monitors staring back at him. His blonde hair is tangled in a mess from his headset. Though, from the look of his lean yet toned body, no one would ever be able to tell he sits around for ninety percent of his job.

“Clean up crew is already done and heading over. You guys did a really good job not leaving traces behind tonight. Cameras are wiped, and the moment the crew vacated, I called in the anonymous tip to the PD. They were dispatched mid call, so I can assume we’ll be seeing a news story on the six o’clock broadcast. Not to mention that little shit podcaster will be all over it by eight. Danielle met Lauren at the safe house, but a couple of the girls are really shaken up, so they’re not sure they’re going to make it back in time. Chris and Alex are already on their way.”

“Perfect, good job tonight.” I pat him on the back. “Now lets get fucked up.” I grab his shoulders and lift him from his chair, shoving him playfully through the door.

As we walk into the main house, ‘Disguise’ by Motionless in White plays over the stereo system, and I see almost all of my men hanging around. Either a glass or beer bottle in their hand and smiles spread across their faces. The moment they see me they all raise a glass, gesturing for me to join.

“I’m getting it! Shit, calm down.” They laugh as I make my way over to the liquor cabinet and pour my favorite whiskey into a glass.

The moment everyone seems occupied again, I make my way down the back hallway and out to my back porch. I’ve been waiting all fucking night to smoke. Normally after a raid, I’d smoke right outside after. The blood and adrenaline mixing with the smoke is one of my favorite vices, but now that Marissa is pregnant again, if Henry goes home smelling like it, she gets sick. So, I’ve been trying to be considerate. I don’t want her feeling like shit or getting mad at him. That woman gets on my damn nerves, and can talk shit as well as the rest of us, but she loves Henry. So, that’s got to count for something.

“What am I going to do with you? I’ve told you how many times to quit?” I turn to see my cousin, Melanie, walking out onto the porch and closing the sliding door behind her. Her long dirty blonde, almost brown hair stretches down her back and her button nose doesn’t account for how old she is. Granted, she’s not even thirty, but she shouldn’t look like she’s twelve either.

“Fuck you, you can’t tell me what to just because you're eight months older than me.” I chuckle and take one more drag before putting it out in the ash tray.

“Aw, don’t stop on my account, D. I’m just giving you crap.” She closes her arms and lightly shakes her head.

“I’m not smoking around my pregnant cousin, have you lost your mind?” I wave my hand around to move the smoke before she walks up to me.

“I was going to hang back until you were done.”

“Nah, fuck that.”

She steps up and gives me a hug as I plant a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m always so glad when I’m invited to these things. Since my work for you is remote, I never see everyone.” She rests her elbows on the railing and leans back against it.

“Well, there’s going to be plenty more of these in the next year. Seems like everyone is having fucking babies.”

“Aw, do you feel left out?” She coos, pursing her lips and shaking her head slightly in a playfully manner.

“Kind of.” I grin and give her a wink.

“Well, go out and find someone to settle down with, Damien. Any woman would be lucky to have you.” She says in a confident tone.

“That doesn’t really seem to be in my cards, Mel. Plus, you know how I feel about the notion of love. Love is bullshit.” I try to focus my attention onto the tree line, trying to show my distaste of the conversation.

“Why? All of your people have girlfriends, wives, kids. Why can’t you? And please, you know love is real, you're just afraid of it.”

“Afraid?” I scoff and burst out laughing, the laughter echoing into the forest trees that line my property. “I'm not sure I’d put it like that, but okay, and yeah they might have it, but they don’t run the organization.”

“No, they don’t, but Carter helps you a lot.”

“Yeah, and he just now got a girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s because Carter is more comfortable talking to people through a screen, and yes, you are afraid. You're afraid you're going to love someone and they’re going to let you down.”

“Of course they will. You see what I do. What I have done. No one could love a monster like me.”

She crosses her arms again and huffs.

“So, you built this big ass house last year with no plans on having a wife or kids? You really don’t think someone is going to accept you or truly love you?” I look down at my hands, because I could lie to her all night long, and she’ll see right through me. She helped me find the plans for this house after all. Which, designing the house meant conversations about the use of the rooms. I couldn’t just say ‘bedroom’ apparently, so now Mel knows all of my bullshit plans for my future. Well, past plans I should say. “I mean come on, D. You have like eight unused rooms. If this was just a huge bachelor pad, you’d at least have a use for them. You know pool tables, dart boards, fucking corn-hole in the back yard, but you don’t. You made five of the rooms guest rooms, and the others you keep empty.”

“I got to have somewhere for my million cousins to stay.”

She giggles and rolls her eyes. I do have a lot of fucking cousins. Twenty-five of them actually.

“Does my life look like it’s good for kids? A wife? You think a woman is going to deal with the shit I do? Or the fact that I fucking love what I do?” I stare back at her to watch her gaze soften.

“Everyone else’s does.”

“Yeah, because they were either together or married before they started working for me, and we both know that they don’t take it to the extremes or enjoy it the way I do. Except for Zeke and Taylor, but he keeps her so far away from this shit, and I don’t blame him.” Her face molds to pudding, drooping slightly to the realization. “You know I want that life, but I also want this one. Where I help people, on my terms, in my way, with my men who feel the same way. I would need someone to understand that this is my family too. You know another group of people that comes together like this every time one of their own has a baby? I’ve never heard of that shit before.”

“There’s no one else like you, Damien. You are so special, and I know there is someone out there who will be just as special for you. Someone who cares as much as you do can’t be alone. The world can’t be that fucked up.” She lifts her arms and then drops them to her side in defiance.

“You haven’t seen what I have.” She shakes her head at me.

“There’s someone out there who was made for you. I know it, and instead of keeping your head down in your work, maybe you should go out there and find them.” Now she’s bobbing her head, and her slight country accent is poking through. We’ve officially slipped into the agitated stage of her newfound hormones.

“Aw, are your hormones making you all mushy inside.” I coo before she slaps my arm.

“Fine, asshole. Download Tinder or something, at least then you can have a conversation before you walk out into public without your band of vigilantes.”

“A woman who was made me for me wouldn’t be caught fucking dead on Tinder.” I narrow my eyes as I look at her.

“Hey, fuck you, I met my husband on Tinder.” We laugh, but me more nervously this time, and I might actually sweat at the grave I'm digging myself into. She’s definitely going to hit me again.

“I forgot, my bad.” I say apologetically.

“I get it Damien. Someone as possessive and protective as you are couldn’t take someone who doesn’t believe in monogamy. But seriously, start looking for something meaningful if that’s what you really want. Please? I hate that you’re alone.” That new saddened tone was not what I was expecting.

“I’m not alone. Take a look at my fucking house right now.” I gesture towards it with my hand.

“You know what I mean, D. You are not a man that just wants sex. You don’t even bring the girls you fuck back to the house, and we both know that’s because this is a home for your future family. You don’t want to bring temporary people here. So, find a permanent one.”

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“It’s not easy, but it’s even harder when you don’t open up to the possibility.” The thought of that sends a chill down my body. Sometimes, my men can’t even look me in the eye after they've seen what I can do. How could I expect a woman to accept that part of me? To think that I wouldn’t have to hide that part of myself is a dream. It can seem real, but I'll wake up one day and realize that it was all a lie. The moment a woman saw me for who I truly am, she’d cut and run. Or worse, turn me in. No one would willingly put up with the dark and depraved side of me. Willingly…

“If I find the one…” If she even exists.

“WHEN. When you find THE one.”

I scoff at her bullshit assumption.

“Fine sappy, WHEN I find THE one, I’ll know it, but I don’t have the time or the patience right now to go out and find her.”

She reaches up and kisses my cheek before playfully wiping it away.

“Keep an open mind, I mean it! Don’t make me kick your ass.” She points her manicured nail at my face.

“Bring it, preggers.” She slaps my shoulder again and heads inside. As she opens the door, I hear Ezra yell.

“James Xavier Townsend! Eight pounds, thirteen ounces, nineteen inches long!” Everyone yells and cheers before toasting and chugging our drinks.

My men and I are practically a wolf pack. Nothing that concerns one of our own is too small. Their families are our families, and their concerns are ours. We’d die for each other, but we also live for each other. This organization wouldn’t run without that connection. To do what we do, see what we see, we need each other as much as the city needs us, and I wouldn’t trade these fuckers for anything else.