Page 31 of Out for Blood
No more hiding behind screens, aliases, or any kind of barrier separating him from the damage he’s caused. That ends now.
I will make him wish for death, confess his darkest sins to me - including the names of his friends, listen as he begs for forgiveness, and send him straight to hell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
An insistent vibration nudges my attention in my pocket like a warning.
As we stop at an intersection, I fish my phone out.
The screen lights up, and my eyes blow wide as I read and then re-read thatjackinthebox149has the girl.
Ice slides through my veins.
I tap out a quick message to the rescue crew, add the coordinates at the end and hit send.
Be in position. Van Ready.
We know about one victim, but it’s never just one.
Every job we take on is structured to erase itself.
The vehicles that we use are always fitted with counterfeit plates. We take new routes to ensure that if anyone starts asking questions afterwards, the trail dies with the job.
We always choose the drop site ahead of time.
Clothes get stripped, bagged, and tossed into the car with anything that could tie back to us. Then the whole thing goes up in flames. Fire eradicates everything while our cleaner handles the rest.
No name. No face. Just results, and the results we need come with a substantial price.
I found our cleaner in the dark corners of the web, and I pay more than the job costs to keep it strictly business and anonymous.
More than anything, I want to go after my brothers in Alpha Chi.
Not the newly initiated ones, the ones more intertwined with the brotherhood that believe they are untouchable.
The ones ingrained in human trafficking and are moving ‘product’ across state lines and even borders.
The ones who treat people like inventory, and they are nothing more than something that affects their income statement.
I know their names.
I’ve seen their threads.
I’ve lived inside their plans, their trades, and their arrogance.
And I’ve memorized more than they would ever be comfortable with.
But now is not the time to make a move.
You don’t start dismantling something that big without someone noticing the pattern. Bodies stack, and connections get made, then the hunt for the person responsible takes shape.
Right now, Cassidy and I are ghosts, and I intend to keep it that way.
No consistency to the way we do things, no signature, no trace or anything that can tie us to the next job.
The people we’re hunting aren’t victims, they are the reason there are victims.
Meanwhile, I keep a close eye on the big players back in Florida. Their forums are a cesspool that is tiered, enciphered, and incessantly relocating. I’ve only figured out where to look and how to decipher their codes, as they dissolve instantaneously.
