Six Bodies
Sera Veylan
“There are only six bodies... but seven names on the list.”
Soren’s voice cut through the heavily silenced warehouse with urgency, sharp like the butcher's dagger on the belt of his waist.
I shrugged, leaning against one of the pillars.
He didn’t say much. He wasn’t the talking type.
With carefully measured steps, he walked over to the only female victim, blood smeared beneath his perfectly polished black boots as it trailed on the floor like splattered paint.
Soren crouched beside the female corpse, a young twenty-two-year-old ginger with beautiful freckles. The typical wrong place, wrong time.
She wasn’t part of the gang, but she happened to be one of the boss’s newly acquired mistresses who also happened to be banging his side boy on the side.
Well...
Now here she was, lying in a pool of her blood.
Soren carefully brought out the ten-carat diamond necklace and, with ease, held it up with his blood-smeared black gloves. Carefully, he pushed her loose hair to the side and meticulously placed the necklace around her neck.
Every step was handled with care, like an artist handling his most treasured piece.
Soren’s hands moved with care and ease, like those of an expert.
He was a top-tier assassin of Veylan Threshold.
An expert in his field of work.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
His jaw instantly tightened.
“Did you hide the seventh body?” he asked flatly.
And I did not bother to answer.
My head tilted across the warehouse toward the youngest of us.
Riven stood with his back to us as he hummed to whatever jazz was playing through his headphones while his dagger twirled between his fingers with ease.
He looked too entertained for someone standing before a m******e.
But then that was Riven.
The crazy one.
The one who would do things for the thrill.
The one to always twist Father’s orders just for an extra minute of fun.
He turned just in time, and a wide grin spread across those thin lips.
“What’s the fun if the drill doesn’t drag a little longer?” he whispered, still twirling his waist in perfect rhythm as his legs tipped over the blood of his victims.
“You’re hopeless,” I exhaled softly.
“You, ” Soren pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “Father said eliminate the targets, not play games with them, Riven.”
“And Father says a lot of things, Soren... lighten up, would you?” Riven scoffed. “It doesn’t mean we can’t have a little entertainment. Don’t be so uptight.”
Just then, a muffled groan echoed somewhere within the warehouse.
Soren and I glanced at each other.
Soren’s gaze instantly darkened, his fist clenching.
One of these days, Riven was certainly going to make his hair turn white from anger.
And Riven, the little bastard, grinned like one who had just won the lottery.
“There...” he said proudly. “See? Still alive.”
He murmured it lightheartedly.
“You left a witness breathing?” Soren’s voice dropped cold, and the air suddenly felt suffocating.
“Oh, relax... he’s tied up. He can’t do anything.”
Riven downplayed everything as always.
Then another muffled scream followed.
I didn’t wait.
Riven would never see reason, and Soren would never stop trying to make him see one.
So without delay, I adjusted the suppressor of my handgun before walking past both of them.
The inner section of the warehouse smelled like wet rust and gasoline... for we had poured it all over the place.
A standard assignment.
Nothing complicated.
A regular trafficking ring operating near the southern docks.
Six men.
Humans.
Connected to underground auctions involving both humans and wolves.
Father approved the kill order within minutes after the problem was placed on his table.
As always,
No trial.
No negotiations.
No witnesses.
Just names to be erased.
And now six bodies are scattered all over the cold floor.
I stepped over one of the deceased and pushed through the plastic-hanging curtains toward the back room.
The dim light flickered over me.
And there sat the seventh target.
Tied to a chair, his wrists were bound behind him so tightly the ropes had torn through his skin.
His expensive suit was soaked with sweat, blood, and urine.
He reeked of fear.
His terrified eyes darted wildly around the room for a second before finally fully focusing on me as I entered.
For a brief moment, actual relief crossed his face.
Because compared to my brothers...
I was the best bait.
Always have.
Always will.
A cute, gentle, sweet girl with big, round eyes that seemed to envision the perfect world.
The light everyone craved.
“P-please,” he choked out. “I can pay... anything.”
“You already tried that with him?” I glanced toward Riven, who had followed me inside.
Riven shrugged casually.
“He cried too fast. It got boring.”
Then he casually walked over and pointed at the man’s pants.
“He even soiled himself,” he whispered, but still loud enough for all to hear.
Now the man just stared frantically between us, not sure who to plead to for his life.
“I swear... I never touched those girls... I didn’t take the money. I only handled transportation. I didn’t know,” he yapped.
A lie.
Before I could end him, Soren entered behind us, his expression cold as always.
“End it,” he ordered.
Simple and cold.
The man began sobbing.
“I have children, ”
“So did the families you sold out,” I replied quietly and pulled the trigger.
I didn’t need much aiming.
I was good at my job.
And as always, the bullet went through the lower throat just right below the chin, and he slumped backwards as blood trailed down, staining his expensive suit.
The silence that followed the gunshot was deafening.
Riven’s tongue clicked.
“And here I was hoping he’d run so I could chase him.”
“You need a hobby,” Soren muttered.
“I have one,” he defended.
“Murder isn’t a hobby.”
“It absolutely is,” Riven firmly said.
The corners of my mouth twitched faintly, just enough for Riven to notice, and he pointed too quickly like a child noticing his favorite toy.
“Soren! Did you see that? She almost smiled!”
“I did not.”
“She did. I’m telling you, one day she will actually laugh, and the world will end.”
I holstered my weapon and stepped over the body.
We walked out of the warehouse like a perfect trio, and behind us, I lit the match and tossed it backward.
The place was engulfed in flames.
Everything was clean.
No traces.
No prints.
No evidence.
And that was my life.
Our life.
“Mission accomplished,” Riven yelped.
“Not yet,” Soren said coldly as he got into the car.
His expression went rigid as his hand pulled out the sealed envelope beneath the driver’s seat.
It carried the silver crest of Veylan Threshold.
My stomach twisted.
It was a direct order from Father.
Soren opened the seal. His eyes glanced through the words, and his face darkened.
Without a word, he pushed the envelope toward me.
“Solo.”
One word.
“Already? But we just got back,” Riven whined.
Soren looked a little unsettled, and I understood why the moment I read down to the last line.
My pulse quickened.
Solo wasn’t a problem.
I had done too many to keep track of.
Always clean.
No trace.
Always good.
Always on time.
But,
Aleric Kaed.
Alpha of the Doveyn Pack.
Future Lycan Council Heir.
Kill order: Immediate.
Just then, a second car rolled over.
“Get in,” the driver ordered.
I didn’t waste time.
I didn’t glance back at my brothers.
Though Riven stared longer than he should have, I dared not turn.
Today’s mission felt wrong.
This wasn’t fear.
It was something far worse.
Instinct.
And I had long known instincts do not lie.
But Father’s orders could not be faltered.
My eyes glanced at the bottom of the order.
Two words written in Father’s handwriting.
“No mistakes.”
And for the first time since that mission,
My left eye twitched.
