A Murder's Hunt, page 4
“My what?” Hunter asked, emotionlessly.
“What I’m saying is, Kestrel’s smart enough to know if he kills Occisor’s face, you, its shadow, will probably go on a killing spree.”
“So, you think the rest of you will be safe as long as the idea of me stays alive?” She asked, unconvinced.
“Yes.” He said, smiling. He pulled his hand away from her and got out of his car. “But I think you’re right to keep an eye open. Lucian and Scarlet are smart, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Hunter crawled out of Raphael’s car, clutching the laptop bag in her hand. “Well, I still think he’s going to try something.”
He shrugged as he closed the garage door and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “And why are you worried about Weston?”
She grimaced. She’d hoped he’d be satisfied with knowing her thoughts on Kestrel. But of course he wasn’t.
“It’s just—” She sighed, dropping the laptop bag on the black felt couch in Raphael’s living room, “He always wants everything to be perfect.” She fell beside the laptop bag and stretched her legs out in front of her.
“Are you worried if you disappoint him, he’ll throw you away?” Raphael asked after a few seconds. He sat in front of her on the glass coffee table and put his elbows on his knees.
She shrugged. “I shouldn’t, I know that. But, old habits die hard I guess.” She muttered, unsheathing her knife. She threw it in the air and caught it, tilting it so the blade caught the light. She’d gotten into this profession because of Weston. She learned to steal, to kill, to blend into the shadows because she wanted to repay her brother for everything he’d done for her.
“If you know, then don’t worry out about it.” Raphael said. She glared at him and he rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is!” He stood up from the coffee table and grabbed his bag from beside Hunter. “You don’t owe that psychopath anything.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “I owe him everything.” She said.
He laughed. “Not anymore, you don’t. Whatever debts you think you owe, I’m pretty sure you paid long ago.” He ruffled her hair and grinned. She swatted his hand away and scowled. “Plus, you’re his sister. Family should be reason enough.”
Raphael turned around and started walking up the stairs to his office, leaving Hunter alone in the living room.
“He’s not a psychopath.” She called out as he reached the top of the stairs.
He turned and gave her a pointed look. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”
✽✽✽
Out of all the territories, Weston Ross’ had the roughest appearance. He ruled the slums, and it had the largest concentration of criminals. He and Hunter had grown up in the dark, dirty streets of Othloh’s underbelly, and Weston had many fond memories of his rise to power.
It was also the only place Raphael actually worried for his car’s safety.
After dropping Hunter off in front of Minosea’s main headquarters, Raphael left without so much as a goodbye. Though she knew her companionate was fascinated with her childhood, he didn’t like spending too much time in a neighbourhood that consumed children and spat out thieves and killers.
Like the rest of the slums, Minosea’s main building looked less like the lair of a Crime Lord, and more like the place a serial killer would take his victim to dispose of the body. It was an old brick warehouse with a large metal garage door and boarded up windows all along the top of the building. Beside the metal garage door was a second, smaller, metal door that was locked from the inside. It was a single story and the nearest building was a five-minute walk in any direction. Weston wanted to see everything around him, and other structures got in his way.
Hunter scratched the back of her head and sighed. The wind whipped around her, sending a chill up her spine despite the leather jacket she wore. Though at this point, Hunter would rather just stay in the cold than talk to Weston.
Cursing Lucian, Hunter walked toward the warehouse with her hands in her jean pockets. Weston’s security wasn’t evident. He had cameras around the building, but he depended mostly on muscle and the fear of retaliation. With people like Raphael in the city, Weston didn’t trust technology much—if at all. He’d often say humans were sometimes just as unreliable as computers, but at least you could beat fear into a person.
She was tempted to acknowledge the camera mounted beside the metal door, but didn’t have the energy to do something Weston would find childish or irresponsible. She kept her face expressionless as she approached the large metal garage door and the sole man standing in front of it.
She grimaced. Her brother had always been very fond of traps.
The person was unfamiliar, which worsened her already bad mood. She hated having to explain things to people. He was tall and maybe a year or so older than her, with short, wavy, black hair, a lightly toned body, and angular features. He seemed too refined to have grown up in Othloh. He watched her approach with narrowed blue-grey eyes, his right hand gripping the gun in his holster. Despite his tough exterior, she could tell he was nervous, as if he was terrified of getting attacked from behind. But more than anything, she was surprised he was by himself in front of the building that held Minosea’s core. She couldn’t help but think Weston had something planned.
The young man suddenly stuck his hand out and unholstered his gun. He didn’t point it at Hunter, which was good, but he seemed nervous enough to try something stupid. She stopped in front of him and clicked her tongue in annoyance. “I’m here to see Weston. He knows I’m coming.”
“Your name?”
She groaned and glared at the security camera beside the door. Now she knew Weston was playing games with her. Almost everyone in Minosea knew who she was. She’d once been part of their gang and even had the tattoo on her back to prove it. But Weston picked the one member who didn’t recognize her to guard the entrance knowing she was coming.
“Hunter.” She said reluctantly as her eyes shifted back to the guard. She took her hands out of her pocket and the Minosea member pulled out his gun and pointed it at her. Without flinching, she glared at him and rolled up the left sleeve of her jacket and showed the guard her black feather tattoo. “I’m from Occisor.” She had no interest in revealing her last name—she didn’t want to use her brother’s influence to get anything.
He didn’t move his gun away from her face and her patience was quickly running out. He didn’t even react when she mentioned Occisor. How new was this guy?
“Just stand there and don’t move.” He said as he looked over her shoulder and then around him, as if looking for help. She gritted her teeth, clenching and unclenching her fingers.
Screw it.
She whipped her hand forward and knocked the gun away from her face. He barely had any time to react before she hooked her right leg around his left leg, pushed against his chest with her left hand and pulled her leg back. He fell onto his back and Hunter drew her knife as she fell forward, moving her left hand to wrap around his neck as she pressed her knee onto his stomach. She held her knife just above his left eye.
“I really don’t have the patience to wait.” She hissed, bringing her face so close she could feel his breath against her skin. His eyes were wide as he stared at her, his mouth half open in shock and fear.
In the distance, she heard a door slam open.
“Hunter!”
She looked up as Arsen stepped out from the smaller door, his blonde hair curling slightly around his ears. The sleeves of his white t-shirt were rolled up, revealing the Minosea tattoo on his shoulder: two black back-to-back crescent moons inside an unfinished circle. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d run.
“I was surprised to see you at the Crow’s Nest. I didn’t know Weston used his personal bodyguards as messengers.” She said without moving from her position.
“Only for the important jobs.” Arsen said, leaning against the door frame. “And don’t try to kill the Boss’s newest bodyguard. He’s only doing what he’s told.”
“He was bothering me.” She said, frowning. After a few seconds of hesitation, she pushed off of the man on the ground and stood before sheathing her knife and walking toward Arsen. She looked over her shoulder as her brother’s newest bodyguard pushed himself off the floor and frantically picked up the gun he’d dropped. He didn’t even look at Hunter and just stared at Arsen with wide eyes.
“Everyone bothers you.” Arsen deadpanned.
She shrugged and walked beneath his arm and into the warehouse.
“Oh, and Nikolai,” She heard Arsen say as she pulled off her leather jacket, “that’s the Boss’s sister. So, next time just let her in.” The door slammed shut and Arsen appeared beside her. “We were watching on the cameras. Vince thought you were going to kill him for sure.”
“Is that why you ran?” She asked as she adjusted the straps of her grey tank top. “He didn’t even flinch when I told him I was from Occisor.” She added as her eyes drifted over her black feather tattoo.
“I told you, he’s new.”
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. The warehouse was a wide-open space with a kitchen crammed into the far-left corner and a sitting area along the left wall near the entrance. On the other side were crates and boxes piled on top of each other and a couple desks pushed against the right wall. She watched as Minosea members ran around organizing merchandise and moving boxes into a large delivery truck in the middle of the space.
Her eyes continued to roam until they reached the stairs in the centre of the room leading to Weston’s office. It looked like it was floating with only two steel beams keeping it up. It was made from tinted, bulletproof glass so no one could see Weston, but he could see everyone.
“Nice to know it’s still hot as hell in here.” She said as she slowly made her way toward Weston’s floating office.
“Boss doesn’t like the cold.” Arsen said, shrugging as he pulled his shirt away from his chest. “And we can’t open any windows or doors.”
She glanced up at all the boarded-up windows. Weston hated windows. She blamed herself for that. She’d snuck into so many buildings through the windows that he became paranoid someone would do the same to him. If her brother could somehow find a way to remove doors without it being inconvenient, he’d probably do that too.
Arsen went up the stairs, Hunter trailing behind. There were no railings, and though she was confident she wouldn’t kill herself if she fell, she couldn’t promise her ankles would come out unscathed.
At the top of the stairs stood Kazimir. His brown hair was pulled into a short ponytail and his dark brown eyes watched them closely. They all stood together on the concrete landing in front of the door. At least there were railings around it.
“It was nice seeing you at the Crow’s Nest.” Kazimir said sarcastically. He didn’t bother uncrossing his arms when Hunter and Arsen stopped in front of him. Instead, he analyzed her from head to toe, his eyes narrowing when they passed her belt and boots.
She shrugged but didn’t say anything. Kazimir rolled his eyes and opened his mouth just as she unbuckled the knife sheath from her thigh, unholstered the gun strapped near her lower back, and removed the dagger from her boot.
“I’m glad you remember the drill.” He smirked as she handed him all her weapons. Satisfied, he opened the door to let them in. Before walking through the threshold, she threw her leather jacket at Kazimir. His eyes widened as he struggled to catch it, almost dropping Hunter’s gun in the process. “Thanks, Kaz!” She smirked as he glared and gave her the middle finger.
“Don’t antagonize him.” Arsen scowled, biting his lip to hide his smirk. She ignored him and walked into the office.
Despite its outer appearance, Weston’s office wasn’t very elaborate. There was one brick wall while the three others were giant windows. It allowed Weston complete view of the warehouse. There was a large television with a live camera feed from all over the warehouse on Hunter’s right. She spotted Nikolai standing in front of the warehouse.
“I appreciate you keeping my newest bodyguard alive.” She whipped around at the voice and stared at the man behind the desk. Weston Ross was 9 years older than her but still looked like he was in his mid-twenties. He had gelled back dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and pale skin. He was wearing a dark blue three-piece suit, but the jacket was casually thrown over the back of his desk chair. Behind Weston stood Vince, his fourth bodyguard. Vince was almost the same age as Kazimir but had dark skin and dark hair to match. He had piercing brown eyes; the right eye was darker than the left one. He stared at her indifferently with his arms behind his back.
Weston didn’t look like a criminal. While Hunter had large tattoos and a glare that would make any normal person cry, he had a soft outer appearance and an approachable face. He was good at manipulating people. He could smile like a friend and speak like a siren. But in truth, he was selfish, cold, and corrupt. All he cared about was making sure he was the one on top.
“You should have told him I was coming.” She muttered. She suddenly regretted giving Kazimir her jacket. In just a grey tank top and without her weapons, she felt way too exposed. She forced her hands in her pockets to keep herself from wrapping her arms around herself.
“A little fear is good.” He said indifferently. He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. When Weston met with people, he acted politely and always smiled. He was approachable and pretended to be the perfect gentleman. But he’d given that up in front of Hunter a long time ago.
“Kestrel knows Occisor’s going after him.” She said suddenly. She wasn’t surprised when his expression didn’t change, but she saw his fingers twitch.
The room was quiet. She saw Vince’s eyes shift between her and her brother nervously. She held her breath as she waited for Weston’s reaction. “Arsen, Vince, leave the room.” He said without taking his eyes off of her.
Startled, Vince looked wide-eyed at Weston. “But, Boss—”
“Now.”
Arsen and Vince shared a look before they scurried out of the office, leaving Hunter alone in a room with a psychopath.
Chapter 4
Hunter wasn’t afraid of many things, and usually her brother wasn’t one of them. But Weston could be dangerous when he was angry. He was someone who was calm under pressure, and even though his face was expressionless, she could tell by his tone he was angry.
“Come closer and explain.” He said, curling his finger and beckoning her forward. She didn’t want to get any closer, but she slowly stepped in front of Weston’s desk, never taking her eyes off of him.
“Scarlet was compromised and I had to break character to get her out.” She said, shrugging her shoulders.
“How was she compromised?” He leaned forward and laced his fingers together once again. His eyes were so intense that she was forced to look away. He looked so much like their father when he was angry. But how they expressed their anger was fundamentally different. Weston didn’t beat on people, he often had other people do that. He usually preferred favours and life debts. He didn’t like to demand blood; dead people can’t do anything but keep secrets.
“We didn’t know the girl Scarlet was impersonating had a lover.”
“I see.” He said. She gritted her teeth in annoyance, knowing he was blaming Raphael for the mistake. Weston didn’t like her companionate, mostly because Raphael’s job was to find, sell, and exploit people’s secrets and weaknesses. Weston also didn’t like it when his pawns were dedicated to other people. It frustrated her. She wanted to change her brother’s mind, but nothing she ever said or did helped. It often only made it worse.
“And what did you do wrong?” Hunter’s eyes flashed up to Weston’s. She was pretty sure she knew where he was going with this.
“I didn’t get into the upper floors.” She said slowly, her eyes narrowing as she tried to find a crack in his stone face.
“And that’s because you needed to help your team.” He stated. It wasn’t even a question. She grimaced and made a sound of disagreement. She didn’t think it was that simple.
“My second job was to get Scarlet out if anything went wrong.” She added. She pulled her hands out of her pocket and waved her hand dismissively. “I couldn’t find a way into Kestrel’s office fast enough.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you were alone.”
There it was. Hunter sighed heavily and rolled her shoulders. It was always the same thing with him. “I’m not your Grim Reaper anymore.”
“But you still wear the mask I gave you.”
Weston stayed successful because he was smart. He made sure none of the dirty, public crimes could be traced directly back to him. He was a businessman at heart and had crafted her into his perfect murderous puppet. Before she joined Occisor, he’d send her to eliminate his enemies. She’d been his favourite pawn.
“You know,” He said as he stood and walked toward her, “when I asked Lucian to refine your skills, I didn’t think you’d stay there and drag that hacker with you.” He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms as he looked at her.
“He has a name.” She said, forcing herself to stay rooted in her place. She didn’t want to show him any weakness.
“Of course.” Weston said. He suddenly smiled, the sickly sweet one he used whenever he wanted something. It sent shivers down her spine and made every fibre in her body want to run away. “Don’t forget the reason you’re still alive.”
“I never asked you to save me.” She said through gritted teeth. “I don’t owe you anything.”
He laughed. “I could have left you in that house with our old man. You think you’d have lived through every single one of his beatings?” His smile fell and his expression looked murderous. “If I hadn’t shot that dead-beat in the head, you wouldn’t be here right now. I raised you on these streets. I kept you alive.”
