The man looks at the guy on my left and nods. The guy walks behind me
and yanks me to stand by the back of my shirt. He undoes the cuffs, and I
rip the shredded material up and over my head before dropping my hands to
my sides when what I really want to do is rub my sore wrists.
Never show weakness. A Lord does not feel. He’s a machine.
The man steps up to me with a knife in hand. He holds it out handle first
to me, his black eyes almost glowing with excitement. “Show us what you
can do.”
Taking it from him, I walk over to the chair bolted to the floor. I yank the
bloody sheet off the chair to reveal a man tied to it. His hands are cuffed
behind his back, and his feet are spread wide and secured to the chair legs.
I’m not surprised I know him—he’s a Lord. Or was. The fact that he’s
restrained tells me he’s not anymore. But that doesn’t change my orders.
Kill without questions.
You want to be powerful? Then you realize you are a threat to those who
want your position. In order to succeed, you don’t have to be stronger, just
deadlier.
The man shakes his head, his brown eyes pleading with me to spare his
life. Multiple layers of duct tape are placed over his mouth—those who spill
secrets will be silenced. He thrashes in his chair.
Walking behind him, I look down at his cuffed wrists. He wears a ring on
his right hand; it’s a circle with three horizontal lines across the middle. It
stands for power.
Not just anyone would know what it means, but I do. Because I wear the
same one. Everyone in this room does. But just because you get one doesn’t
mean you’ll keep it.
I reach down and grab his hand. He begins to shout behind the tape as he
tries to fight me, but I remove the ring easily and walk back around to stand
in front of him.
“You don’t deserve this,” I say to him, placing it in my pocket. “You
betrayed us, your brothers, yourself. The payment for that is death.”
When he throws his head back and screams into the tape, I press the
knife to his neck, right below his jawline. His breathing fills the room, and
his body strains, waiting for the first cut.
A Lord does not show mercy. Blood and tears are what we demand from
those who betray us.
