My Stepbrother, My Damnation

Kindness

Riven’s POV

I didn't need a doctor, or even a nurse. They always said laughter was the best medicine, right? As it turned out, the only medication I needed to soothe the pain biting into my bullet-wounded shoulder was a little bit of dark humor.

Every single time my daggers thudded into the wall inches away from the whimpering bastard tied to the chair, I let out a low chuckle.

"I've... I've told you everything I know! I swear! Please don't kill me!"

His tearful rants were entirely comical, so I just kept throwing my blades. Today had been incredibly productive. A day spent handing out torments and collecting cash was always a good day, and there was no better way to end it than visiting one of my private casino rooms for a game of darts.

"The wannabe biker gang calls themselves the Viper Cell. How incredibly corny," Malakai scoffed, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

I ignored him, casually twirling a fresh dagger between my fingers. The private room was completely silent except for the frantic breathing of our captive and the occasional clatter of poker chips.

"They actually had the balls to ambush the Grim Reaper," a second voice added, sounding much more gravelly than Malakai's. "We should just barge into whatever shithole they dwell in and slaughter every last one of them."

The aggressive shout made me pause. I tilted my head to glance back at the pair. Malakai sat casually in a leather chair, idly counting stacks of green cash scattered across the desk. Graven, on the other hand, leaned heavily against a concrete pillar. I always felt his name sounded entirely too delicate for a hitman, and his long hair didn't exactly help fight off the accusation. Still, these two were my most reliable arms in combat.

"I need my eardrums to rest," Malakai muttered, staring through the haze of his cigarette. "Eve almost destroyed them earlier, and now you're trying to finish the job."

"What did you just say to me, you bald fraud?!" Graven barked.

I chuckled at their bickering. Nothing was more amusing to me than a textbook display of stupidity.

"This s**t isn't a joke, Reaper," Malakai said, completely ignoring Graven as he stood up and smoothed down the front of his tailored suit.

"We have to put that princely asshole in his place," Graven added, smashing his fists together. His meathead aggressiveness was practically contagious.

I returned my focus to my live dartboard and flicked my wrist. "A little bit of competition never hurt anyone," I said, rolling my bad shoulder despite the sharp twinge of pain.

I paused, aiming the final dagger, and let it fly. The blade hit the exact center of the target—slicing cleanly right through the fool's throat. I watched the life drain from his eyes through lowered lids.

"It's been a while since I harvested souls," I snickered.

Malakai remained entirely deadpanned, while Graven burst into a loud laugh. At least someone appreciated my sense of humor.

"Hush up," I commanded coldly, cutting off the noise the moment I felt a distinct vibration in my pocket.

The alert pattern was entirely different from the annoying calls or texts I usually received from my old man. I made sure to give it a unique tone because Ryker's voice always made my stomach twist.

I pulled the phone out to check the screen.

"Did Eve send you another nude? Shameless," Malakai scoffed from a distance.

I ignored him, my attention locking entirely onto the flashing biometric data on the screen. My eyebrows knitted together.

"Her vitals are flatlining," I muttered, straightening up instantly.

"Yo, where the hell are you off to?" Malakai called out as I turned on my heel.

I stopped right in front of the exit, sparing my two confused associates a brief glance over my shoulder. "Going to harvest souls."

With that, I stormed out of the casino.

★

People always misunderstood me. They called me a monster, a psychopath, a tyrant. But in my own mind, I was an incredibly fair man. Generous, even.

My brand of kindness was simple: I always gave a warning. I always gave an ultimatum. If I told a thief I would cut off his hand if he stole from me again, and he still chose to steal, then he was the one who decided to lose the hand, not me. I merely fulfilled his request. My conscience was always completely clean because I gave fools the freedom to choose their own graves.

Princeton Creed had received his warning weeks ago when he first brought his pathetic little gang into my city. I explicitly told him to play nice or get buried. He chose the shovel.

"What an absolute dump," I mumbled, pulling my car up to the perimeter of the Viper Cell's hideout.

The cracked pavement leading up to the house was covered in grime and motor oil, though it honestly smelled much better than the stench of cheap beer and body odor wafting from the front porch.

"Hey! Who the f**k are you?"

Three low-level thugs bounced off the porch and walked toward me. I knew street hooligans generally hated cleanliness, but these idiots looked like they hadn't seen a shower in months.

"Are you deaf, asshole?"

They clearly hated mints, too, because their breath made my nose scrunch in disgust as they closed the distance. I stood a full head taller than all of them. I slowly lifted my chin, looking down at the leader.

"Your pavement is incredibly ugly," I remarked calmly.

Their faces contorted in total confusion. I let my grin widen, watching the sudden, terrifying realization dawn in their eyes as they finally recognized my face.

"Don't worry, sirs," I whispered, my voice dripping with that signature benevolent malice. "I'm going to do you a favor and repaint it. I think a nice, bright red suits this place perfectly."

Before they could even reach for their waistbands, I shot my hand forward.

"That's the Grim Reaper!" someone screamed from the porch.

The shout was instantly cut short by the wet sound of a jaw shattering under my fist. A sudden gunshot echoed through the yard, the bullet buzzing past my ear. I clicked my tongue in irritation. A loud firefight was going to ruin my surprise visit with Princeton, and that would be a terrible shame.

I decided to use my bare hands. Compared to these stinking amateurs, my fists were infinitely faster than a trigger pull.

Swiftly, I snatched a pistol from the second thug's grip, twisted his wrist until the bone popped, and slammed the butt of the weapon directly into his throat. He gargled blood, staggering backward into the dirt. I lurched after the remaining men, eager to show them exactly what happened when you ignored my kindness.

★

"She should be a statue instead of a cop," I whispered into the quiet hallway.

My voice easily overrode the weak groans and wet grunts of the dying men littering the floor behind me. I spared the bleeding bodies a brief glance before stepping up the creaking wooden stairs.

I was here to retrieve Lina West. And honestly, her fee for this rescue was going to cost her a lot more than my stolen wristwatch. I checked the digital tracker in my hand. I had secretly planted a biometric tracking chip on her skin days ago—I couldn't even remember the exact conversation we were having when I slipped it on her, but I was incredibly glad I did.

What kind of future police officer allowed herself to get kidnapped in broad daylight and then refused to wake up for hours? It was completely pathetic.

Reaching the top landing, I pocketed the tracking device and gave the bedroom door a light push. Just as her vitals suggested, she was completely unconscious, chained to a mattress in the center of the room.

"Well, this is interesting," I laughed out loud, stepping into the space.

Princeton’s head snapped toward the doorway, his eyes widening in pure shock. "You!"

He rapidly pulled a pistol from his waistband and aimed it straight at my chest. I didn't even blink. A decaying fossil was infinitely more interesting to me than Princeton Creed. Instead, my attention remained locked entirely on Lina's unconscious form.

Princeton had clearly been touching her. His hand was still resting on her thigh, frozen in place because he had only just noticed my intrusion. Lina was heavily asleep and bound by chains, yet her body was experiencing a severe physical reaction. Her cheeks were flushed dark red, her breathing was incredibly shallow, and her skin was heavily peppered with severe goosebumps. Her entire frame was locked tight.

"So the rumors were true," I murmured, leaning casually against the doorframe as I shifted my gaze back to Princeton.

His finger trembled against the trigger, his glare filled with hatred. I simply chuckled, letting my eyes drop to his hand.

"For a prince, Princeton... your touch is entirely revolting to a corpse."