Chapter 2

Neon lights blur on the rain-slick streets as I stalk my target through West Bank.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, thick and hot. I haven’t had an opportunity to run free like this since I was chained to a desk as the COO of Sinro Enterprises. Since I swapped out my Kevlar vests and guns for Armani and loafers.

But tonight, I can let my murderous side loose.

I was born to hunt. Born to play god to the criminals in this world. And while I might share core traits with the man I’m leisurely chasing down, I do have some semblance of right and wrong.

I’ve chosen to fight for the side of those who can’t fight for themselves.

My target pauses at the end of the rundown street. He turns his head to peek over his shoulder, his breath puffing through the open mouth of his bone-white skull mask.

Oh, the theatrics!

A wicked smile spreads on my face. He’s finally aware I’ve been pursuing him.

I have to give him props. According to Sinro’s little sleuth, Alaric, police reports on these thug SIXX characters “haunting” the city have started piling up.

While we typically focus on larger criminal organizations and security detail, our teams are currently bogged down with jobs. So I took on this particular hunt.

And fuck did I need it.

Evenings have been boring without my boss and his pretty little husband occupying the apartment right across from mine. They left me on the seventeenth floor with the two Vincent brothers, who give me very little time of day. Alaric doesn’t leave his computer dungeon, and Isaac prefers to be out where the sun shines, hitting up local food joints and socializing.

Most nights, I end up working extra hours or binge-reading why choose omegaverse books. I’m finally to the part where the five male alphas are about to run a train on the little omega in heat, but I’ve held off because I know I’ll want to fuck someone once I dive in.

A lightbulb pops and sizzles above an old cinema as my target slips through the broken glass doors.

The fact that he believes he’s luring me into a trap has me thrumming with anticipation. Soon enough, I’ll have him bound and gagged in the basement of Sinro. Then the real game begins. How many appendages will I have to remove before he spills his secrets?

With quick strides, I survey the perimeter of the cinema. The back door and windows are boarded up. No other exit points.

Definitely a trap.

Too bad for him, I don’t know what fear tastes like.

In the military, I was the guy sent out on impossible tasks. No matter the order, I slept soundly at night. My comrades used to joke that PTSD was scared of me.

I’d have to agree.

The skittering of a rock draws my attention to a neighboring alleyway. I press my back against the brick wall of the cinema, hidden in the shadows.

Could I be so lucky to get another toy to play with tonight?

The figure that steps under the flickering light of a streetlamp isn’t wearing a mask, though. He’s dressed in civilian clothes—baggy jeans, worn black Converse, and a dark, oversized sweatshirt with the hood drawn.

I chalk player two up as harmless. And then he flicks out a butterfly knife.

A smile curls on my face. Apparently, I’m not the only one hunting criminals tonight. Though, from the looks of this guy, his lack of gear and weapons, he’s woefully underqualified for the job.

As he crosses toward the cinema entrance, I catch a glimpse of dark curls and full lips beneath his hood.

Well, hello.

I think I’d like to see him up close and personal.

I wait for player two to disappear around the front of the building before I pursue. As much as the idea of watching this pretty new hunter kill my target thrills me, I need information from him first. Our enemy could be just another local gang member. Or he could be part of something more threatening brewing in the city.

Slipping through the entrance with a pistol clutched in my hands, I tread lightly over the busy, debris-covered carpet. The inside of the cinema has seen better days. Smashed claw machines and arcade games line one wall, and graffiti covers the small concession area—symbolic warnings to other gang members to keep out of their territory.

A sense of urgency ushers me along. The pretty hunter with the butterfly knife is no longer in sight, and neither is the masked man I’ve been stalking.

Sneaking down a dark hall toward the movie screens, I hesitate when I spot the hunter lurking outside the door to screening room four. His head is lowered. He seems to be…praying? Or possibly hyping himself up?

I find myself hung up on the way his shoulders are rising and falling rapidly. He keeps adjusting the knife in his shaking hand, a clear sign that he’s an amateur.

What’s going on inside his head? What is he questioning? The actual killing or the consequences that come after the act?

Suddenly, I want to crack him open and pick apart his thoughts. This curiosity over what makes other humans tick is why I enjoy interrogating enemies so much. The complex ones are the most fun to puzzle out.

Holstering my gun, I creep up behind him. I wrap one hand around his wrist with the knife and the other hand over his mouth. Tugging his back against my chest, I lower my mouth to his hood. “You look too innocent to be getting involved in this late-night fuckery.”

Pain shoots through me as he bucks his hips back and spins to drive an elbow into my jaw. Quicker than I can anticipate, he swipes his knife at me. I catch his forearm right as the blade nicks my neck. Hot blood trickles from the wound as hate-filled brown eyes sear into me.

Wild excitement crackles through my body. Despite the fact that he’s actively trying to cut me, I now have a perfectly good view of his face. There’s a slight dimple in his chin. His jaw is square, and his brows are well-manicured. He’s got a beauty mark under his left eye. A little freckle I’d very much like to flick my tongue over.

It’s not the only part of him I want to taste.

When his expression twists into unfiltered rage that would make the devil himself cower, my cock begins to fill.

Oh, he’s lovely.

His knee slams into my chest. I stumble back a step, my smile growing. “Gonna have to play rougher with me, baby boy.”

With a snarl, he charges me, dropping to sweep my legs. I catch myself on one knee and curse. I might be getting too old for this shit.

Bracing for another of his attacks, I glimpse movement in my peripheral vision. Hooking an arm around the hunter, I spin his body away from the masked man right as a gun fires. The bullet punches into the back of my vest, knocking the air from my lungs.

“Fuck. Always unpleasant,” I rasp.

The hunter wriggles free from my hold and whips around to face me. Only, this time his face is twisted up with fear.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he utters, shaking arms hovering over me like he doesn’t know where to touch.

As much as I like this little dynamic shift between us, I’m not up for getting shot again, so I pull out my gun and pop off a bullet without looking. The answering grunt of the masked man tells me I hit my mark. Not a kill shot, but enough to hinder him.

The hunter winces.

Interesting. He doesn’t seem to like guns. Unfortunately for him, most bad guys in this city carry them.

The hunter blinks at me, his throat bobbing. Then he looks past me, his expression hardening in pure hatred once more.

“Don’t—”

But he’s already in motion, charging at the masked man bleeding from the leg.

Shoving to my feet, I rush after him, stuck on the frustrating thought that if I hadn’t been out here hunting tonight, this pretty hunter may have become another casualty of violence in West Bank. Another body left to decompose in the rubble.

He’s wicked fast though. He manages to disarm the masked man and draw blood from several shallow cuts before I reach them.

He’s choosing not to take the kill shot.

The masked man realizes this, too, stumbling back from each controlled slash of the butterfly knife.

I wedge myself between them, countering their strikes like some almighty intervening force.

“Fuck. Off,” the pretty hunter says through gritted teeth, shoving at me.

“As much as I’d love to watch you carve up this shithead, I can’t have that just yet.”

“Don’t care.” He lunges forward to jab his blade into the masked man’s collarbone, earning a grunt and then a fist to his face.

White-hot fury overcomes me as I see the hunter’s head jerk to the side from the impact. Impulsively, I grab the masked man by the neck and slam a fist into his gut. “Don’t fucking touch him.”

The pretty hunter’s wide eyes snap to me and quickly narrow with rage. He’s like a reverse Sour Patch Kid. Sweet in appearance but sour on the inside.

Faster than I can anticipate, he throws himself on top of the masked man and stabs at him again, sinking his blade into his shoulder.

I’m fully hard now.

Reaching out, I pluck the hunter off the masked man, leaving his blade embedded in flesh and muscle. In a split second, the hunter flips me over his shoulder, slamming me onto the floor. He climbs on top of me to hold me down, panting like a rabid animal as his ass plants right over my cock.

Better yet, he wraps his soft hands around my neck.

The laugh that escapes me is more of a stifled wheeze. Shit, I’m gonna pay for this tomorrow when I can’t get out of bed. I don’t rebound as fast as I did in my twenties. I blame the desk job.

Unable to restrain myself, I slide my hands up his surprisingly muscular thighs. “You had to be cute.”

His eyes bug out of his head as he scrambles off me. “Quit fucking with me.”

I debate pulling out my gun and killing the masked man right here so I can spend more time playing with the hunter instead. Should I ask him to join in my torture session tonight? Promise him spilled blood and a couple of orgasms? Could be our first date.

Flipping up to my feet, I stride over to the masked man and smash the butt of my gun against his head. When he crumples to the floor, I tug the hunter’s knife from his body. The hunter glances at it with a frown as I hold it out to him.

Bet he gets tension headaches with how tightly he’s wound. I could help him with that. I could fuck his brains out and have him reeling from the pleasure.

His gaze shifts to the masked man laid out beneath me. He grabs for his knife, but I move it out of reach with a smirk. He bares his teeth at me. I step into his space, bringing our bodies together as I finally release the knife to him.

“No more hunting demons,” I say firmly.

He glares back at me. “Not like you’ll be around next time to stop me.”

I’m tempted to say “we’ll see,” but that would be confessing to stalking him, and that’s not something I’m supposed to do.

But it’s something I’m considering.

I let my gaze run down his features, landing on the purplish bruise forming along his jaw. Raising a gloved hand, I brush my thumb over it, relishing in the fact that he lets me touch him, despite the storm churning in his hate-filled eyes.

“Crashing from the adrenaline yet? Just imagine if I’d let you kill him.”

His eyes narrow. “I’d sleep soundly.”

“Oh, but killing people is wrong.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

I chuckle. “Am I? Ignore that.”

Brows furrowing, he glances down at the masked man’s unconscious body. “Is it wrong if they kill people, too?”

“Depends on who they’re killing.”

A muscle in his jaw spasms.

“Any idea how many more of these fuckers are out there?” I question.

He must have some sort of insight into this gang if he knew where to find one of them.

Ever the annoyance, the masked man groans as he starts to come to. I walk over and use my boot to push him flat onto the ground. After I zip-tie his wrists and ankles, I send a picture of him to Forest, who parked nearby in case I needed backup.

“Whoops. Forgot something.” Squatting down to unbuckle his mask, I pat his exposed cheek. “Not so scary anymore, hmm?”

He goes to spit on me, but I grab him by the jaw and turn his face away. “I could torture you here, but I’m not so sure our company has the stomach for that.”

I glance over at the pretty hunter, who’s fallen silent. He’s frozen in place, wide eyes glued to the face of the man—not a demon—laid out on the floor.

From the way he’s trying to hide his trembling hands, I have to wonder if he actually wanted to commit murder tonight. What was his motivation? Was he being haunted by these fuckers? Bribed? Initiated?

As I walk over to him, I have to bite back a wicked grin at the way he puffs up. He’s unsettled by me, but he’s doing his best not to show it.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be dead before sunrise,” I tell him.

The loss of another life by my hands won’t even be a lingering thought in my head. Add it to the mountain of skeletons in my closet.

He swallows, eyes roving over me with deeper interest. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Your guardian angel, or the devil, here to drag you to hell. I’ll let you decide.”

He frowns at me, seemingly torn on how to proceed. I’m about to offer him a ride home when he suddenly bolts for the door. Some invisible force tugs me after him, urging me to take chase. That wicked, primal beast in my chest, eager to pin him down and claim him.

I look back at the bound, masked man, wishing I’d offed him. I was so excited to torture him tonight.

Boo. Now it feels like a chore.

Forest barges in, lake-blue eyes shining. Despite his friendlier nature, he’s one of Sinro’s top mercenaries.

“You good, boss?” Forest asks.

I tap my fingers against my thigh. “No, I don’t think I am. Take this one back for me. I’ve got one more thing to do.”

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