Page 47 of Seven Graves

The Executioner

It’s so quiet here.

I can’t tell you the last time I actually listened to the sound of birds outside, or general nature of any kind.

We’re far enough back in the cut that there’s no sound of traffic, and if I lay here basking in this ambiance…

I can just make out the water crashing and boat bells clanging in the distance.

This is what a vacation is really about.

A break from what we, as humans that like to believe we’re machines, consider everyday life.

It makes you realize that if you’re disconnected from the bullshit long enough…

the world isn’t as frantic and fucking ugly.

It’s got its own peace and tranquility about itself, we’re all just in too much of a hurry doing absolutely nothing, to notice it.

I ran my palms down my face, stretching and taking in a deep breath, smiling to myself.

It smells like a night full of fucking in here.

Vacation indeed. My head rolled to where she’d been laying…

to that pillow she screamed in when I didn’t ask permission before shoving my prick into her tight arse.

And God, was it perfect. Viper took me in every hole last night like a fucking professional and matched every bit of my insanity.

She asked for it. She became it. I think she’s my goddamn soulmate.

Which means…I’ll have to answer all the questions I passed on last night, eventually.

And it needs to be sooner, rather than later. She deserves that much from me.

I slid out of bed, searching the floor for my clothes—she’s wearing my shirt…

…She’s wearing my shirt…

Somewhere deep inside this dead fucking heart…

I feel life. Or something like it. Should I be reading too much into this?

Wearing a lad’s clothes, especially one that just tested the sturdiness of your back door?

That’s a statement. And the big circle of question marks around whatever it is we have, feels like a solid reason to smile about what she’s choosing to leave unsaid.

She’s throwing me a bone and giving me hope, which is more than I fucking deserve.

I pulled my sweats on and raked my hair back, heading downstairs.

Bridget’s up. Her pillows and shit are balled up on one side of the couch.

She spilled a bag of chips and left them laying on the floor, and must have slept like a lunatic or was more pissed than I expected, having to hear what she likely did last night.

It looks like everything on the coffee table got kicked.

I grinned, bending down to pick up Scrabble tiles and peeked over to where the bathroom door was shut.

“I guess I should be glad it’s not my melon ya took it out on, yeah?

” I snickered and started putting all the game pieces back in the box, stacking it with the rest of the board games beneath the coffee table.

“Silent treatment it is.” My eyes caught the cracked front door, and I stood, walking over and opening it.

The Nova and Seven’s car are still in the yard.

“Sev?” There’s nothing. Nothing but the sound of birds and boats. “Viper!”

What the fuck?

I left the door open, stepping out onto the porch and glancing around the yard, seeing absolutely no movement…

and something in the pit of my stomach felt heavy.

A nearby starling started throwing a fit in a nook just a little ways down the porch and I realized I was too close to its nest. I stepped back just as it charged for me, and ducked.

“Shite!” When I straightened, that heaviness in my gut turned to fucking lead.

It flew into the house . I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…

the Irish are a superstitious lot. And for good reason.

Something is fucking wrong .

My steps were heavy, going back into the house and the fucking bird was ballistic, feathers and fury flying everywhere while it tried to find its way back out.

I left the door open for it. “Bridget! Somebody fuckin’ answer me!

” I stormed into the kitchen and nearly lost my fucking mind.

There’s a pan on the stove, an open container of raw bacon, one egg in a glass bowl, and one…

cracked on the kitchen floor. A note was left on the counter by the sink.

I felt my psycho start to boil under my skin…

CHECKMATE LITTLE

HALF-brEED PRINCE

“Maróidh mé gach duine agaibh, a mháthair-chreachadóirí…”

I’ll kill every one of you motherfuckers…

I crumpled that scrap of paper in my fist and my adrenaline went rogue.

I dunno how they found us, but I’m already blaming myself.

Ma used to tell me I had a ‘red-headed temper’ anytime I used to lose my unholy shit and start breaking anything I could get my pubescent hands on.

I learned to hone that rage when I got older and used it to flay the skin from whatever bones were on Pop’s list of deserving hits.

The last time I saw this shade of red—was the day that Shavonn was dragged down the aisle next to fucking Braughton.

Second only to the day that I had to see her without a heartbeat.

I’m past the point of being respectful of Seven’s family getaway house. I’ll fucking buy them a new one.

My hand flew to the handle of that frying pan and I didn’t actually see anything…

I barely heard the crashing of glass, the flipping of furniture and the crumble of sheetrock while I swung my arms, hitting and crashing out on whatever stood in my way.

When the haze lifted…it looked like somebody set a bomb off in this house.

My body is shaking. My head is spinning.

They’ve got my baby sister—and the second woman that I… I’m…

“FUCK!”

I swung the pan again, busting a big, boxy television and that rutting bird finally found its way out of the house.

I looked down to see my knuckles busted open on my free hand, and blood running down my heaving chest where I’d opened the cut Seven branded me with last night.

I dropped the pan to the floor. I can’t think straight.

I dunno what the fuck to do with myself.

Go fucking get them. Burn the world down and take the bastards with you to hell.

A vacation. Hell will be a vacation compared to what I’m about to do to these fucking pricks. I took a deep breath and turned slowly on my heel, padding up the staircase. I searched Seven’s parents’ room, finding my burner and I called the only person that could give me any real answers.

“Mal…somethin’s up, mate…I—”

“They’ve got Bridge. They’ve got ‘em both , Dec.” I heard fingers flying over keys, and restless breathing…it could be mine, but I’m not wholly sure.

“Your lass is in Rockport. I’m pingin’ her at—”

“Her phone is here , fuckshit!” I rammed my fist into the pillow I slept on, grabbing it and throwing it across the room, breaking more vintage knickknacks. “Find Jonas. Tell me where he is!”

“Already on it. That might explain why the boss is out…with Finn.”

“If either of them had anything to do with this…if there’s a single hair on their heads touched, I’ll make sure Sev bags them up with the O’Dell’s cocks in their mouths. Tell me where the fuck they are, Declan.”

“…Malek. Both tracks are puttin’ ‘em five miles from House O’Dell.” My knuckles cracked around the phone. “You can’t go alone, brother.”

“You help me, and they’ll kill you too.”

“Worth it. Some loyalties change, mate. Mine don’t. I back Byrne until the day I meet my maker. If Callum is marchin’ under a different banner, it’ll be hard for me to believe…but you know I’ll never support it. You’ve got at least half that’ll stand behind you.”

I swallowed and my teeth hurt from the pressure.

“I need guns.” It wasn’t until it came out of my mouth that I remembered…

I have guns . I have everything I pulled outta Kendall’s truck.

I don’t especially like killing with them, but I never said I wasn’t a good shot.

I’ll plow through whoever gets between me and the first two at the top of my list. Then I can play.

And play I fucking will, until they’re begging to die.

“Never been so happy to hear you say that shit, Mal. I can get to ya about twenty deep if you’ll wait for us.”

“Not a chance. You’ve got until I finish packin’ my shit if you’re coming. Back me. But you better let ‘em all know that if Pop gets pushed to the top of my hits…if there’s an ounce of hesitation, I’ll fuckin’ kill them too. They offered this blood. I’m just the executioner.”

“Understood.”

Call ended.

I’ve packed up Bridget’s shit, every pointy thing in this house, and I started packing Sev’s stuff because I know…

they both left in whatever they were wearing.

One of them, in next to nothing—and my shirt.

And it better still be on her when I find her, or that demon that likes to play house inside me…

he’ll have his time to stretch his legs.

Her phone and jewelry sat on the bedside table, and I mindlessly gathered it, about to add it to her duffle, until—

…Until a necklace I haven’t noticed her wearing dangled from the space between my fingers…

It’s a penny. A penny with a four-leaf clover cut into it and a simple silver chain.

If what I suspect right now is the truth…

Seven is saying a hell of a lot more quiet things .

And I just became twice as dangerous. I grit my teeth, shoving the necklace into the pocket of my jeans and finished packing her bag.

The Nova is already loaded up with Kendall’s leftover artillery and there’s enough ammunition in here to mow down the whole lower floor.

I don’t know shit about the rest of Nolan’s compound, or where to start looking once I get there, but Declan’s already on that.

There’s one more person I need to talk to, so that he knows which side of the war he’s sitting on, and which one is about to get him killed.

I slammed the front door behind me, storming out to my car and tossed the bags into the trunk.

The GPS is set, and I decided to use Viper’s playlist to try to sing the monster calm.

It’s not helping. There’s a knot in my throat the size of my fist and somebody like me getting emotional is a very bad thing.

Dust kicked up as I spun out of the long, wooded driveway and I worried my lip ring while I tried to blame my stinging eyes on the fact that my windows are down.

“I’m so sorry,” I growled under my breath.

Bridget had told me that she thought Seven could love me the way Poe loved the muse his words were about…

and I had told her that I hoped she didn’t.

All the while I’ve been sitting here, barging into her life when she had every reason to push me away.

The biggest reason being her fucking security, and the safety of her family.

I’m a fucking selfish fool . This is my fault.

I couldn’t let Shavonn go. I couldn’t convince myself to walk away from the stranger that reminded me of her while I still had a chance to rein in my crazy.

And then I went and fell for her and forced her to do the same, even though I knew.

I fucking knew …it was dangerous. And I dragged Bridget down too.

The sole person I was born to protect. What a fine job I’ve done of that shit.

Every word and strum of an acoustic guitar rang in my ears until I felt the evidence of my fucking shame run down my cheek.

They both deserve better than the cowardice of me wiping it away.

I did this. I did all of this. For revenge.

For my own gain. For my inability to fucking see reason and leave her alone.

My phone rang and I reached over to pause the music from Seven’s phone in her purse.

I reached for one phone…but grabbed another.

Her burner. The cleaning line. The start of all of this.

My brows lowered and I turned the song down instead, answering Declan.

“How many?”

“I’m sorry, Mal. I thought for sure—”

“How fucking many , Declan?”

“Three including me. You can’t go in there, Malek. We gotta figure something else out.” I flipped her burner open and smiled viciously at the last message she’d gotten.

“Get me the layout of the house. That’s all I need. You don’t have to come, Dec. I’ll handle this.”

“I’m coming with you even if I have to come alone.”

“Then I’ll see you at the fiery gates, mate.”

“With marshmallows.”

I hung up and decided exactly what kind of army I was bringing to this battle. Nobody does murder like a murderer . I’ll go down the line, ringing every number in this phone and see how much more loyal my own kind are than my fake family .

“Miss Black…”

“Simon! It’s Mr. Shamrock.”