Page 22 of Unleashed

“Or worse,” Nicoli says. “Someone knew him.”

Maximo rubs his chin. “We looked into everyone tied to him back then. There were no connections. No family…besides you fuckers.”

“Nice,” Caelian quips.

“No close friends. No cult membership. Guy was a lone wolf with a god complex.”

“Yeah,” Caelian sighs, “but cults love lone wolves. It’s like an MLM for psychos. One whiff of martyrdom and they start forming group chats.”

Alexius shakes his head. “We can’t rule out the victim yet. Maybe she’s the link.”

“The link that leads to us.” Maximo tosses his phone on the table. “She is…wasRowan’s wife, the guy who deals with shit in customs when it comes to our shipments. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Could be.” Caelian lights a cigarette. “Maybe she crossed the wrong priest with a butcher kink.”

“Can you be serious for once in your miserable fucking life?” I snap.

“Oh, no. Nah-ah. Your life might be miserable right now, but besides our little corpse cosplay hobby, mine’s just peachy. I even bought a plant last week.”

“Congratulations. You’re a grown-up now.”

“Thanks.”

“Now act like one.” I stare him down while he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, a plume of smoke framing his fugly face.

Nicoli clears his throat, his gaze settled on Maximo. “You think someone’s picking up where Micah left off?”

“Feels like it,” Maximo replies. “Or they’re trying to send a message.”

Alexius narrows his eyes. “To who?”

“Us,” I say simply. “Has to be.”

Caelian raises a hand. “Hey, now, let’s not all jump to the conclusion that it’s our personal boogeyman. Maybe it’s a coincidence. A murder-themed fan club. Could be a deeply disturbed Pinterest board.”

“Caelian,” Maximo says flatly.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, standing and walking toward the liquor cabinet. “I’m just saying, maybe instead of assuming this is aboutus, we consider it might be abouther.”

“The victim?” Isaia asks.

“No,” Caelian says, pouring a drink. “Mother Mary. Of course, the victim. Maybe she had a past. Maybe this was revenge.”

Nicoli rubs his temple. “We’ll dig. But this has Micah written all over it. The precision. The message. The… performance.”

“It’s not a message,” Alexius says. “It’s a warning.”

“And what are we supposed to do with a warning from a dead man?” Caelian takes a sip. “Send him a thank-you card?”

“We find the fucker who did this,” I bite out. “And we bury him deeper than we buried Micah.”

Maximo’s phone vibrates and he flicks across the screen with his finger. “Got the autopsy report. Cause of death—exsanguination from the mutilation. Blunt force trauma to the skull. Torture pre-mortem.”

Caelian whistles low. “That could not have been fun…for her.”

I just scowl at him.

“What?” He shrugs. “This is how I deal with stressful situations. With inappropriate sarcasm. Well, that and fucking my wife, but since she’s not here…”