224 The Name That Bums
Lucian
My mark burned beneath my skin, a searing reminder of who I was, and what I had to do.
We waited at the door of the room they’d locked us in, the air thick with anticipation. My heart thundered in my chest, but
my hands were steady.
Denis stood beside me, silent, seething. When we heard the angry voices approaching, our eyes met, and we moved, one on each side of the door. There would be no time for them to prepare. No warning. Just vengeance.
The door creaked open, and chaos erupted.
Justin and his crew didn’t even have a chance to scream. We tore through them with fury and precision, driven by the humiliation and rage they’d buried us in. Steel met flesh. Bones cracked. Blood sprayed. When it was over, they lay lifeless on the cold floor, except for Justin, who was crawling backwards, whimpering like a cornered dog.
He looked up at me, face pale, eyes wide with terror. “Please,” he stammered, voice cracking. He was trembling so violently he could barely form the words. The stench of urine filled the room. He’d pissed himself.
“Chase,” he blurted. “It was Mr Chase that put us up to it. Please… don’t kill me.”
I stared down at him, my chest heaving. The fury hadn’t abated, it had only sharpened.
“Why should I let you live, Justin?” I asked, my voice low and lethal.
He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even breathe properly. He just shook his head, eyes flitting to the bodies of his friends. Reality had finally hit him, he could be next.
“If you’re of no use to me,” I said coldly, “you’re as good as dead.”
“I, I can help,” he gasped. “I’ll work for you. I know things, things that can get you off this island. I’ve seen Mr Nighthorn. I
know who to talk to. I swear, I’ll help you get back home. Just… please.”
His desperation hung in the air like smoke, thick and choking.
I stared at him a beat longer, then linked my team. “Get the guns and silver bullets. We’re moving.”
Turning back to Justin, I knelt in front of him. “Can you get me a jet?”
He nodded rapidly, too eager. “Yes. Yes! I have a guy, Dean. He owns a hangar and rents jets. If I tell him it’s for Mr Nighthorn, he won’t ask questions. He’ll do it. I swear.”
I studied his face, searching for a lie. There was fear, yes, but no deception. Not yet.
“If this is a trap,” I said, voice like ice, “you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
Justin nodded so hard his teeth clicked. “It’s not. I swear on my life.”
He had, whether he realised it or not.
And I intended to collect.
We left the compound in silence, packed into a stolen van with blood still fresh on our boots. The air inside was heavy, thick with exhaustion, adrenaline, and the scent of smoke and steel. No one spoke.
Justin sat sandwiched between Denis and me, silent as a corpse but twitching like he could feel one breathing down his
neck.
1/2
224 The Name That Burns
+8 Points >
We headed straight for the airport. Dean’s hangar was tucked in the far corner of the tarmac, deserted and eerily quiet. No guards, no alarms, not even a shadow lurking where it shouldn’t be. I didn’t trust the calm. Not here. Not now.
Justin made a few calls with trembling fingers, stumbling over his words like a man trying not to wet himself again. I watched every move he made, ready to put a bullet through his skull the moment he slipped. But he didn’t. No signals. No hesitation. Just fear and desperation.
To my surprise, the bastard wasn’t lying.
A part of me was disappointed, I was so sure I’d be mopping up a betrayal tonight. But he didn’t even have the backbone to consider it. For someone who’d signed up for a death-dealing life, he was terrified of dying.
Maybe he thought the danger would never find him. Maybe he believed people like me only existed in stories. I didn’t
know. And I didn’t care.
Bianca stirred just as the jet arrived, conscious but pale, her strength barely flickering behind heavy eyelids. Denis stepped up to fly the plane himself, refusing to trust a stranger with our lives. Smart move.
I brought Justin aboard. Not because he’d earned mercy, he hadn’t. But because he knew things about Chase Nighthorn. Things I could use. And if I was going to end that traitor’s reign, I’d need every advantage I could get.
As the engines roared to life, I sank into the seat beside Bianca and looked out the window.
I was going home.
To Mara.
The thought hit me like a punch to the chest.
Three weeks. That’s how long she’d gone without hearing from me. Three weeks of not knowing whether I was alive, whether I’d been captured, tortured, killed. I could only imagine the hell she’d been living in. Her… my father… Darian.
I had a lot to atone for. And the weight of it settled over my shoulders the moment we took off.
But for now, I let myself feel it, the quiet joy of returning. Of surviving. Of going home to the woman I loved.
And I swore, no matter what it took, I’d make things right.
