Page 1 of We The Depraved

CHAPTER1

Sage

The wind should feel cold as it hits against my cheeks. It’s winter after all, but I don’t feel a thing. My father’s coffin has been lowering into the ground, slowly. The preacher that said the last rights left ten minutes ago. The crowd that came to mourn him, that pretended they loved him. They’re starting to disperse as well.

Only one man, who seems familiar but vaguely so, remains when it’s all done.

I’m not sad that my father died.

He was a piece of shit, and I left the very moment I could.

I’m glad he’s dead.

I wish I’d done it personally years ago but instead, I simply left and disappeared into the dark underbelly of Houston. I’d been a stripper for a while but that had gotten old. There was no way I wanted to continue doing that shit for the rest of my life. No. I bought into the club instead. I scrimped and saved every red cent that I could, until I’d become part owner of The Crescent.

I throw one last glance at my father’s grave. I want to make sure that he’s truly dead. A sneer eases its way onto my face.

Sayonara, motherfucker,I think and turn to leave.

A big manly chest stops me. The man from across the gravesite, the one that watched me through the entire funeral, stops me. I’m so lost in making sure that my father is in the ground, I don’t see him move.

“Excuse me,” I say and try to sidestep him.

He reaches out and grabs my arm.

“I came to collect on my debt,” the man speaks.

“I’m sorry?” I stop in my tracks just as the wind whips around me.

Looking up into his face, I find he’s an older albeit attractive white man.

“I’m here to collect on a debt,” he states again. “Your father, God rest his soul….”

I stop him. “Sir, no disrespect but fuck you and fuck my father too.”

His face is emotionless and he takes a deep breath.

“Is that what happened princess? To make you hate him so much?”

A chill runs itself down my back. His voice is deep and husky. I turn to leave; this conversation has made my blood run cold and I don’t like it.

“I will be collecting what is owed to me.”

Snatching my arm away like I’ve been burned, I look at him as if he’s lost his mind. The cemetery is empty.

My first thought is no one will hear me scream.

“I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about, but that’s between you and him.”

Jerking my thumb towards the grave, I hope he gets the hint.

“It was between us,” he states. “But now it’s between you and me.”

Figuring he’s delusional, I leave. I don’t feel safe. The way his eyes have roamed over my body, I know I’m anything but safe. I don’t look back as I leave. Only forward, and I don’t breathe until my car is turning on and I’m reversing out of the parking lot.

My phone rings and I see, The Crescent, is calling.

“Fuck,” I mumble and then answer.