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Grabbing my hair and pulling it to the point my skull throbs, I rock back and forth while insanity threatens to destroy my mind completely. Father finally did what Lachlan started. Destroyed my spirit. The angel is gone. The monster has come and killed her. Lachlan Sipping his whiskey, Shon gazes with a bored expression at the one-way mirror as Arson lights the match, grazing the skin of his victim with it as the man convulses in fear. âShow off,â he mutters, and on instinct, I slap the back of his head. He rubs it, spilling the drink. âThe fuck? We are wasting time, Lachlan. Tell him to speed up. You know if you let him, he can play for hours.â All in good time, we donât need just a name. He is saving him for a different kind of information that we write down as Sociopath types furiously on his computer, searching for the location and everything else using FBI databases. âBingo!â Sociopath mutters, picking up the laptop and showing the screen to me. âItâs seven hours away from New York, in a deserted location in the woods. The land belongs to some guy who is presumed dead and the man accrued the right to build shelters for abused women. They actually live there as a place of new hope or something.â Indeed, the center is advertised as such and has a bunch of stupid reviews about it. Even the approval of a social worker, but then it doesnât surprise me. Pastor knows how to be convincing. âKids,â I mutter, fisting my hands. âMost of them probably have kids. He continues to do his fucked-up shit.â And all these years, he has been under my radar. I throw the chair and it bounces off the wall, but no one says anything as they feel the same. âShon, order a plane. Jaxonââ âYeah, my brothers will be there with us. But listen, the FBIââ he starts, and I nod. He takes a beat and quickly sends a message to someone on his phone while I bark into the microphone. âArson, enough with the bullshit. Kill him already.â He is of no use to us anyway. Arson looks at the wall and shrugs. Then pours gas on his victim and lights up the match simultaneously, stepping aside as the man screams and thrashes on the chair, and the smell of burning flesh can be sensed even here. Arson jogs to a hose, splashing water over him. The room is designed security wise for this kind of torture, since fire is one of the first things I taught. After all, Iâd learned the hard way how to fight with it. âOn the plane, we can adjust the plan. Letâs get moving.â They spring into action as I go to my room to get a specific folder to give to Levi before I go, when Sociopathâs hand stops me, bumping my shoulder. âIs this a suicide mission for you?â he asks, and I smile, although it lacks any humor. My friend knows everything. Instead of answering his question, I grip his shoulder tight, and confide, âValencia is entrusted to you.â We both know that if I want to destroy Pastor, I have to die with him. This revenge has been twenty-three years in the making, and I never envisioned a different future. This path always leads to death one way or another, and the only reason I valued my life was because I had to kill him. Valencia will be forever free from the evils that destroyed her life. Iâll make sure of it. Once upon a time, there was an angel. Who made the monsterâs heart bleed.
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V.F. Mason (Lachlan's Protégé (Dark Protégés #1))