Page 64 of Disobedient Pawn

I reached them just as Ren stepped up close to Morrison like she was going to take a swing, and I gently laid my hand on her shoulder to keep her from crossing that line. Morrison wouldn’t dare put a hand on me, but he had a reputation. I genuinely liked Ren, and no one was ever hurting her, even if she never let me see take her out again. That realization was staggering, but more so was the fact that I’d never felt protective over a girl before.

“And like I said, if he wants to tell me that, he can get off his ass and come speak to me himself. Otherwise, you can run along and find someone else to harass.”

Morrison’s face went bright red.

“Sheriff, we were just heading back to the academy anyway,” I said.

Morrison’s eyes flicked to mine. “What were you doing with her here in town in the first place, McCoy? The second time in two weeks.”

“What business is it….” Ren started, but I squeezed her shoulder, and she took a deep breath as she tried to rein in her anger.

“Shopping. There were some things Ren needed, and I was the one free to bring her. I’ll make sure she gets back to Wayward safely.”

Morrison looked between my calm face and Ren’s furious one before shaking his head. “I don’t get paid near enough to put up with shit like this. Fine, get going, but straight back and no speeding.”

“Yes Sir.” We stood quietly as Morrison stomped off to his police car, got in, and drove away before Ren jerked her shoulder out of my hold.

She turned on me, and I swallowed as my eyes met the steel in her silver depths. “I don’t need a hero, and if I did, I wouldn’t call you.”

The words hit harder than any physical attack. Ren stepped around me and got in the car, the door closing behind her, and my gut churned with a million and one emotions that I couldn’t decipher. Sadness and anger at myself were at the top of the list, but so was longing for something different and regret, which I never felt.

Just like the rest of my screwed-up existence, one moment, my life was amazing, and the next, it was shredded right before my eyes.

NOVEMBER 10 – THURSDAY 7:12 PM

Nash

The twelve of us stood around as my father landed another blow to the ribs of the man hanging from chains. The chains and cuffs my father had installed in the underground meeting room were straight out of something medieval. He had since expanded his toys to include a stone dais that was supposed to be for final executions. Most of the time, he used it to become the center of attention when he was beating and raping some girl.

I hated every fucking second I had to be down here with this group. The others were lucky. They weren’t eighteen yet and not allowed. I’d happily be anywhere else, but not showing up would end with me hanging from a wall.

Only one man of the bunch never played any of the Order’s sick games. Theo and Blake’s father, Ethan O’Brien, was the only one with any morals as far as I was concerned. Of course, my father hated that. He hated that they had the next strongest family holdings and that Ethan and his family were respected. Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t force Ethan to participate in the corruption and blatant abuse of power.

I had no problem with killing traitors or those that looked to tarnish our image. This was business. The family I was born into was not like other families. We were groomed from a young age to rule and make hard decisions. There was no call to the police when someone stole money or product. We didn’t hire lawyers and sue when another family or organization humiliated us. In our line of work, you learned what you needed to know and killed off threats, no matter the risk.

The man’s screams had dulled long ago, but a fresh wave of yelling and begging began as my father pulled out the long nine-tails whip with the barbed wire ends. The sharp metal dug into his skin and tore pieces from his body with every strike. Blood flew in all directions. I dropped my head to look at my feet but still felt drops and things I didn’t want to know about hitting the long dark robe.

Sadly, this would continue for days, if not weeks. Father would stop before the man died, have him doctored and healed enough to start all over again. If the traitor were lucky, he’d go home with all his limbs. If my father was in a particularly evil mood, he cut off fingers, toes, maybe a whole hand, or a bullet to the head for stealing.

My father didn’t need an excuse to hurt someone, but there was very little he put up with. Stealing was a fuck no. He repeatedly preached how if someone stole from you, they were capable of anything and needed to be taught a memorable lesson or taken out for good. Again, I understood his reasoning, and maybe it made me a fool, but I preferred to look at the entire picture before inflicting punishment.

This man, Geoff Humphries, stole five hundred dollars to pay the remaining amount on his mortgage payment so he didn’t lose his home. If he had no place to live, then we would lose him and his small business to launder money through. So wouldn’t it be better to slap him on the wrist and tell him that he needs to contact us first next time? That way, we could collect interest instead of blood and flesh. Just one more decision I didn’t get a say in until I took over as the next King.

Glancing to my left was Devin McCoy, Myles’s older brother. He stood a few feet away, and just beyond Devin was their father, Owen McCoy. Both watched what my father was doing, their faces were passive, but their eyes held excitement. Ethan was to my right, and the look in his eyes was a stark contrast. We shared a look, and even though no words passed between us, we knew that neither of us wanted to be here. He was the only King I was tempted to bring into the Last Rank. But with what we were planning, the answer was always the same. It was too dangerous. As much as I liked him, I didn’t know if I could trust him, and if my father found out what I was up to, then my life was over.

That wasn’t some teenage drama. It was a fact. My father would never let me live if he knew I planned on removing him and dismantling part of his legacy. He would keep control until he was ready to give it up, and nothing, not even me, would ever stand in his way.

“Have you learned your lesson,” my father asked. Geoff was reduced to a sobbing mess and in so much pain that he didn’t answer anything more then incoherent blubbering as he hung from the chains.

My father looked at me, and I knew he would ask if I wanted a turn. It was a test. If I said no, I was weak. If I said yes, then I was no better than him and I had to hear their screams when I closed my eyes at night. Sometimes I didn’t get the opportunity to say no, but tonight I had an excuse to get the fuck out of here.

“My King,” I said, the words more sour than sucking on a lemon. “It is nearing time for my errand this evening. If it pleases you, may I take my leave and be of greater use to the Order?”

We were forced to talk like lived in a different era, as if we were upholding some ancient laws. Another fucked up rule my father or one of his favorites had decided on. There was an old order, but all those who ruled had died generations before my father was even a sperm shot. The fact that he took ancient books, twisted the rules and doctrine to suit what he wanted and then sugar-coated it with words like righteous was an abomination. You could put a dress on a pile of dog shit, but it was still a pile of shit.

My father’s glower told me exactly how he felt about me asking to leave, but I also knew he would let me. He valued money above all, and not meeting with a buyer, especially one who regularly spent large sums, was a huge no.

“You may be excused.”