Page 4 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)

Dallas

INITIATION: TEST TWO.

A fucking week and still not a single word from Alec regarding my next test. I was prepared to complete all three tasks like dominoes, falling one right after the other. But apparently, that wasn’t how this worked.

How could it take this fucking long to line up my following two targets?

Frustrated by the lack of communication and progression, I drove to my parents’ home to turn to the only person I knew would give me a straight answer—my father.

My childhood home wasn’t like most of the MUR residences. It was a typical two-story, single-family home with a backyard large enough for me to play catch with my father. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have had it any other way .

I was raised to be ‘normal,’ and while some families within the MUR choose to live a life of luxury, others prefer to stray away from it altogether.

As I strolled through the main entryway, I stopped at the foot of the staircase leading up to my childhood bedroom, taking a moment to reminisce about my past and all that made me who I am, as a person and as a legacy.

The walls going up were accented with family photos that my mother had taken throughout the years: baby photos, vacations we took as a family, sports photos, school photos; the last being my senior graduation, with my cap and honors tassel framed in a shadow box beside it.

This staircase alone held so many memories—our most recent family photo was always on display above the credenza near the front door.

A bright, bubbly voice called from the kitchen, and my attention was brought back to the present, hearing my mother calling me.

A genuine smile spread across my face as I turned my head toward the sound of her voice.

No matter how many memories that staircase may hold, my mother was the reason our house was a home.

“Dallas, is that you?”

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me. Is he home?”

“Out on the back patio with the newspaper. Can I get you anything?”

“No, you’ve already done more than enough for me.” I smiled warmly, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek before stepping past her and out the sliding glass door .

My mother had the kindest heart of anyone I had ever met. My father lucked the fuck out with her, and I’d only hoped to one day find someone like her.

“Dallas.”

“Dad,” I nodded in respect before sitting on the opposite end of the outdoor lounge. I fanned my arms out along the back of the couch and closed my eyes, letting the rays from the early afternoon sun warm my face. “I need to talk to you about my upcoming tests.”

“Oh? Did something happen?” His tone was unreadable.

I sure as shit wouldn't be sitting here right now if I fucked up my first test. Alec would've already put a bullet through my skull and signed my death certificate on the same night.

“No. Everything went as planned, although it’s been a week, and I haven’t heard from Alec regarding my next test.”

Setting his paper down, my father crossed a leg over his knee and relaxed back against the cushion, focusing all his attention on me. When he wanted to be, he could be difficult to read.

“That’s normal. The MUR doesn’t just kill people daily, Dallas.

Dustin must vet everyone who crosses his radar before making a final move.

Not to mention, four of you are undergoing initiation this time around, which will also affect the timeline of your assignments.

Sometimes it can take several weeks to receive your next test even under normal circumstances. ”

“So, I didn’t fuck up when I just shot the guy in the back of the head?”

He just shook his head and laughed as if I’d been joking .

“Absolutely not. We aren’t here for torture and mutilation, if that’s what you initially thought. While there are times that the target’s crime calls for that as retribution, generally, all jobs are taken care of in a quick and dirty manner. You go in, you make the kill, you leave. Simple as that.”

Simple. He was right about that.

He sighed, contemplating my extended silence as I replayed the events of my first test in my mind; what I'd done right, and what I could've done better.

Although it might've made a statement that I didn't need a reason to pull the trigger, all I needed was the gun.

“Look, as I’ve said before, the first kill is always the hardest, but once you get the next two under your belt, there’s nothing to it.”

As I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn’t feeling any of that whatso-fucking-ever, my phone went off with a new notification. Perfect timing .

Leaning forward, I pulled it from my back pocket and saw a text from Alec on the lock screen.

“Speaking of Alec…” My voice faded into a mumble as I opened and read over his message, which included information about my next test and its location.

“I assume he has your next test then?”

“Seems so. We’re meeting at Stardust on The Strip tonight at nine. I guess the target is staying at the hotel—or at least close by?” I sighed, chewing on the inside of my lip. “His text is vague. I’m assuming that’s normal?”

“It is. Most of the time, we only get a name, time, and location. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, they give you a description of the target, but that’s not always guaranteed.

For initiation tasks, Alec will do the legwork for you to gather that information, but in the future, once you’re on your own, that will become your responsibility. ”

The Men Under Revue played an essential role in keeping the peace in this city.

We held power over the scale, maintaining balance and ensuring our city never tipped too far in one direction over the other.

Well, it wouldn't be a job without some effort.

When I pulled into the Stardust parking garage, I found Alec lazily waiting beside the elevator. His arms were crossed over his chest, with one leg bent and his foot propped up on the wall he had been resting against.

I narrowed my eyes as I parked in the closest available space, wondering why he was down here instead of in his office or the theater.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” I called over to him as I rounded the back of my old Jeep Patriot.

Once this was over, the first item on my list was getting a new car—one that fit my personality.

“Not long, maybe five minutes or so.” Alec shrugged, unfazed, checking the Rolex on his left wrist as I strode over to where he stood, my hands tucked into the front pockets of my jeans.

“Where to then?”

“The basement.” Two simple words. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was sinister, malicious intent radiating off of him like a dark aura.

As a sponsor, you can assist with the tests assigned to your protégé. The only thing a sponsor couldn’t do was deliver the killing blow.

“I take it by the look on your face that this test will be more fun than my first?” I questioned, arching my brow and pressing the call button for the elevator.

“You could say that. Being here as long as I have, you pay close attention to repeat offenders, and this motherfucker has been on my shit list for years. I’ve been waiting for him to fuck up one last time, just so that I could get a piece of him.” Alec crooned with satisfaction.

“Repeat offenders?” Did that mean that all of our targets had multiple chances before being sentenced to death? “Are you telling me that this entire operation isn’t just a ‘ fuck up once and you’re dead’ kind of deal?”

“And the boy finally gets it. I’m surprised Cole didn’t tell you that in training.”

“He was more concerned with my ability to use a gun and a knife to take a life than explaining the reasoning behind the kill. ”

“Better late than never, I suppose. But to answer your question, yes. While the MUR is never explicitly revealed as the issuer of every warning, each offender is offered an ultimatum: correct their violations or we take matters into our own hands… If that’s enough clarification, are you ready to meet your next target? ”

It made sense, and I wasn’t about to argue the logic.

“By all means, lead the way, Alec. I’m ready to get this over and done with just as much as you are.”

“Atta, boy. Just like your father.” He laughed while patting me hard on my shoulder as we stepped into the elevator cab.

Alec held a white card up to the scanner, letting it turn green with a chirp before pressing the only button without an identifying label, sending us down to a place I never knew existed before tonight.

“There he is, the biggest pain in my fucking ass,” Alec announced as we stepped out of the elevator and crossed the room to where a man was strapped to a chair.

The only other piece of furniture in the space was a long metal table. The air smelled damp with death and decay, as if this place was used for one thing and one thing only.

The bound man cocked his head to the side with a menacing glare, seemingly not giving a single fuck that he was the one restrained right next to a drain that was stained with the blood of every poor fucker that had sat there before him .

“I see you brought a much younger version of you this time. What—can’t fight your own battles anymore, Alec?” He spat his words with a deep-throated growl.

“Tell me, Avery. Do you get off by constantly violating our rules? How many warnings did you need?” Alec scowled as he swaggered over to the man, hands relaxed in the pockets of his black slacks.

“And I’m using the past tense because this is no longer a warning.

You’re done here, and I’m fucking elated to be the one who gets to see you burn in hell. ”

“You know as well as I do that you’ll be burning right along with me, Alec.”

Unimpressed by his weightless words, Alec continued.

“Perhaps, but not for a long fucking time. Dallas, get over here.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I followed Alec’s order, staying close on his heels as he stopped beside the table, which, to my surprise, was empty.

There were no torture tools or anything you’d expect to see in a typical basement murder dungeon .

That’s all I thought from the second those elevator doors opened—a space designed for slaughter.

Avery cackled, his gaze following our every move with a feral sneer.

“They just keep getting younger and younger, don’t they? Soon, you’ll be recruiting teenagers into your twisted ranks—”

“Shut the fuck up, Avery.” Alec barked, his patience no longer existent. I hadn’t seen this side of Alec in all my years of knowing him. “Dallas, take the gun. ”

He held the handgun out to me by holding the barrel, and I took it without further question, ready to pull the trigger on his command, shutting Avery up for good.

“You think you’re one to talk? Why don’t you tell my protégé here precisely what the fuck landed you in this situation in the first place? Or would you like me to do the honors instead, you sad sack of shit.”

“I’m here because—”

“Because you think you can do whatever the fuck you want, by abusing women like cheap secondhand fuck toys. That’s why you’re fucking here.” Alec seethed, cutting Avery off.

His hands balled into tight, white-knuckled fists as pure rage started to blind his judgment. My sponsor's calm and collected composure was slipping away by the second.

I tightened my hold on the gun, curious if he would just snap entirely—ripping it right out of my hand, then killing Avery himself.

“I don’t know why it took the Slate family as long as it did to sentence your sorry ass, but by the fucking gods, I’m glad I get to be the one to witness your final breath.

” Alec aggressively shoved me forward from behind, and I aimed the gun at Avery.

The sight set directly between his wiry, unkempt brows. “Rot in fucking hell.”

That was all the confirmation I needed from Alec.

A loud bang ricocheted through the cement room as Avery’s body immediately slumped in the chair. Dead .

The silence was deafening as we stared down at his lifeless body, the blood from the bullet hole dripping down onto his dress shirt and slacks.

I don’t know how long we stood there, but after what felt like several awkward, long fucking minutes, I flipped the safety on the gun and threw it onto the metal table with a loud clang before turning on my heel and making my way toward the exit, hearing Alec’s heavy footsteps right alongside mine.

As we approached the elevator, Alec tugged on my arm, and I stopped, turning to face him. His eyes were all but empathetic.

“If you’ve even, for just a fucking second, thought that our work was sick, twisted, or barbaric…

” He swallowed hard, collecting himself from the rage spiral he’d entered.

“That son of a bitch right there is proof that what we do means something. We aren’t holy by any means, fuck no—but we’re not senseless murderers either.

Everything we do has a purpose.” We have a purpose.

I believed every word Alec said as I chewed on my cheek, taking one last glimpse over his shoulder at the limp body of a man who crossed far too many lines for his own good.

My father was right; it does get easier.

Not that it already wasn’t.

I was born for this life and would enjoy it to the fullest extent.