Rage

A bad place to die

EVALYN

I’m going to have to work with Liam Havoc…

Liam Havoc is my partner…

I’m going to have to work with Liam Havoc…

The words repeat like a whirlwind in my head. This man may have police training, but he’s not a cop; he’s a vigilante. And I know how much that’s going to complicate our work.

Besides, how did he get an alibi?!

I’m sure my instincts didn’t fail me. He was at Benedict’s crime scene that same night.

And yet, how did he manage to spend the whole night with Nathalie Ashworth?

I don’t know what eats me more: the fact that Liam has an alibi... or that he gave himself to another woman with such voracity.

But it’s not just jealousy. It’s not just wounded pride. It’s the bond. The instinctive, visceral connection that pulses between us like both a curse and a promise. He is mine. Not by choice, but by nature. By blood. By something that burns under my skin every time I think of him.

And still... he spent the night with another woman.

I try to comfort myself with the fact that it was before he met me, but the truth is I shouldn’t care so much about it. A partnership bond is just that: a bond. It means that person is your destined partner, but it doesn’t exclude the fact that each one owns their own life and fate anyway.

Before going back to my superior’s office to tell them the alibi is real, I remember the night it all started. The pen spins between my fingers as the memory of the events returns to my mind as if everything is happening right now.

FLASHBACK

ONE WEEK AGO

I hate winter almost as much as I hate anything made with green apple.

The cold made my hair have a life of its own and my bad mood too.

Unfortunately, it seems like winter lasts eleven and a half months in Steelhaven City. That’s why when I get a call at five in the morning, I almost throw my phone against the wall and curl back into my warm blankets.

Almost.

I love this job. And I need it. I have a promise to keep. And still a few years left to pay off my apartment.

So, for now, I keep answering calls in the middle of the night, investigating crime scenes, facing criminals, and tying my hair in a ponytail.

That doesn’t mean I have to do all that in a good mood, of course.

Pulling the handbrake so hard that I almost rip it off, I park the car at the curb, in front of the newest crime scene building.

There should be a special penalty for those who commit crimes at night. At least in Steelhaven, the city of eternal winter.

As soon as I get out of the car, I see my colleague Daniel Reynolds parking on the other side of the street and getting out of his own vehicle with two cups of coffee, his hair flawless and his good mood unshakable.

Daniel Reynolds. The ever good partner. Charming, smelling nice, and impossible to hate at five in the morning. Even my bad mood respects this man.

"Good morning," he says, crossing the street with graceful steps and extending one of the cups toward me.

"For who?" I retort, taking the cup and throwing a grateful look at him.

"For the living, who just got an espresso with almond cream, vanilla, and a killer amount of sugar."

"Ah, Daniel, have I told you you’re my hero?" I give him the first and probably only smile of the day.

He smiles back.

"Several times. But never too many times."

I wrap my hands around the coffee, absorbing the welcome warmth and looking at the building in front of me. One of the many huge abandoned buildings located in equally forgotten neighborhoods of Steelhaven.

The cracked red brick structure, broken windows, rusty bars, and ugly, unartistic graffiti classify the place as home to addicts, homeless people, and rats. Lots of rats.

The rest of the buildings on the street aren’t much better. In Steelhaven, a city made for multimillionaires, this kind of neighborhood is practically invisible. Something people prefer to pretend doesn’t exist.

Murders, robberies, trafficking, and prostitution are common around here, but nothing the local police can’t handle.

"So who’s the unlucky one this time?" I ask.

"Benedict Vanderbilt."

"Oh, s**t!" I exclaim, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Exactly," Daniel replies, taking a sip of his coffee and looking up at the building. "He and probably all his bodyguards. Bad place to die, huh?"

"Are there good places to die now?" I take a few sips of coffee, ignoring the burn on my tongue and thanking the warmth spreading through my body.

"I can think of some. And definitely this crumbling building isn’t on the list."

"This is the last place in the world where someone like Benedict should be."

"Indeed. I wonder what he was doing here…"

"That’s probably going to be the easiest question to answer."

I finish my coffee looking around. There’s a police tape in front of the building and two officers on duty, stopping absolutely anyone from entering.

Forensic team cars are calmly parked. The street is silent and sleepy. No one passing by here would imagine that one of Steelhaven’s most famous tycoons was murdered right at this spot.

"How was Benedict Vanderbilt killed here and this place isn’t full of reporters and curious onlookers?"

"The Commander handpicked who would handle the case, Ev. This secret won’t last long, but it gives us a few hours to work without those bastards on our backs."

"Then let’s make the most of it." I toss the coffee cup in a nearby trash can and head toward the building, with Daniel right behind me.

"Where was he killed?"

"On the penthouse."

"I guess the elevator’s out of service…"

"Even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t help much." He lifts the tape for me to pass. "The bodies start before the first floor."

***

I’ve never seen anything like this.

Bodies fallen on the stairs, pools of blood staining the floor, bullet holes in the walls — all that is normal. But not the way these men were killed.

As we go up, the experts take pictures, collect evidence. A medical examiner meets us just before we reach the fifth floor.

The air in the building smells of mold, blood... and something else. A faint sweet and woody note that doesn’t belong in this rotten place. A strange smell of... wet forest?

Werewolf.

It was the same smell I caught that night. The same one Liam carries like an invisible scar.

“Do you smell that?” I ask Daniel.

“Shock? Definitely.”

“No, the scent.”

“Evalyn, you’re known as the best tracker at the police academy. I’m smelling blood and nothing else. Probably whoever did this crime used some kind of magical essence to mask their own scent.”

He’s right. But I have an exceptional nose and I can still sense it.

I decide to let it go and crouch next to one of the bodies. He’s a brute dressed in a suit and tie, wearing a bulletproof vest. He has only one wound on his neck. Just like six of the eleven men I’ve checked so far on the stairs.

The others had their necks broken.

“No gunshot wounds so far?” I ask, stunned. “Who attacked these men? A bunch of ninjas?”

“I don’t think ninjas would be that subtle,” Daniel replies beside me.

I glance at him, raising my eyebrows.

“There’s hardly any sign of a fight so far,” he continues, shrugging. “Some of these men probably didn’t even see death coming.”

I nod and look at the medical examiner, who also nods and points to the cut on the victim’s neck. The wound is small, precise, practically surgical.

“The murder weapon was some kind of sharp object,” she says. “Probably a knife. But judging by the depth, it doesn’t even look like a cut made with the blade’s edge. It was a stab.”

“So the killers were close enough to make sure they didn’t miss the strike?” I ask.

“And confident enough in their skills. They knew exactly what they were doing,” the medical examiner states. “But that’s not even the most interesting part. So far, in the case of the cutting wounds, I’ve found only two patterns of strike and injury.”

“So it was two kinds of knives,” Daniel reflects.

“Delivered by only two people,” she completes.

“No way…” I shake my head, incredulous. “You’re saying two people did all this? Eleven men dead so far and we haven’t even reached the sixth floor!”

Two killers. And I know one of them was him.

“I can’t confirm without a real autopsy,” the medical examiner says, “but initially, that’s what everything indicates.”

“Holy crap,” Daniel murmurs. “Looks like we’re really dealing with ninjas.”

“Ninjas who planned everything. Coldly and with precision,” she adds.

“If — whoever did this — planned the whole thing,” I start, “then why did they start killing down here? They could have taken the fire escape straight up and found Vanderbilt upstairs.”

“I think they didn’t want anyone interfering with whatever they were going to do up there,” she replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Vanderbilt wasn’t killed like the others. He had a slow death. A very slow one. Whoever killed him didn’t just want to take his life. They wanted to see him suffer as much as possible.”

Daniel and I exchange a look. His expression mirrors mine: eyes wide, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. The medical examiner just shakes her head as if she expected this reaction. She nods upward with her chin.

“You’ll see for yourselves.”

***

There’s nothing like death to turn a man from the top of the world into someone simply ordinary.

And nothing like the memory of Liam in front of that body to make me doubt everything I believe.

I remember all the times I saw that lycanthrope on the biggest TV channels, at the most elegant corporate events. I lost count of how many times his name appeared in the headlines or gossip columns.

Werewolf. Multimillionaire. Philanthropist. Influential. Owner of an unshakable empire. Powerful.

Dead.

He always seemed made of steel. A kind of god. Immortal. Owner of the world. Maybe that’s why seeing him tied by his hands and feet to a chair, covered in blood and cuts, hits me so hard.

But that’s not even the main reason.

The real reason is that I simply can’t imagine who would want to see this man dead.

He seemed to dedicate a good part of his life — and fortune — to the people who needed it most. He made big donations, took part in humanitarian events, supported social causes. He was a constant face in charity campaigns. Someone admired.

Maybe I’m being too naive.

Was he really who he said he was? Or am I, once again, trying to save a monster disguised as a martyr?

I don’t know. But I recognize a ritualistic execution when I see one.

And I know when the killer left a message. Even if it’s silent.

PRESENT DAY

If Liam did this... why do I still feel like I’m wrong about him?

The truth is, if he really did it, he had a reason. And the reason might very well be the countless pieces of evidence pointing to his active role in the trafficking of mystical creatures.

Which means what he did was what he considered justice. His own twisted, distorted sense of justice.

Working with a man like that won’t be easy.

At the same time, I remember the call I made to Nathalie Ashworth. She hesitated for a moment when I asked her what time she and Liam were together, and then simply told me it was all night. Maybe she didn’t want to lie. Maybe she was doing more than protecting him; maybe she was marking her territory.

His alibi may have been confirmed, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. Maybe Liam spent part of the night with her — after finishing his murders. And of course, Nathalie wouldn’t miss the chance to brag about spending the whole night with a man like him. Just like that, full alibi.

I sigh. I can’t even see the point anymore in trying to prove Liam had anything to do with Benedict’s murder. Not after finding out what he was involved in.

I stand with a sigh. Now it’s time to face my fate.

***

Our meeting didn’t last long. I explained that the alibi had been confirmed and that our partnership could begin, but that I’d need a few days to study the files and figure out where to start.

“That won’t be a problem, Miss Evalyn…” Liam began.

“Since we’ll be working together, just call me Evalyn, okay?”

“All right, Evalyn. Let’s go over the material together and come up with a plan of action. And we’ll get even more intel from our hackers. We’ll unravel the web. Together.”

I look at him, into those intense golden eyes. Beside him, Oliver watches me with the same curiosity as always. Working with these two is going to be tough.

If he crosses the line again, I’ll be forced to stop him. And how do I do that? How do I arrest someone when every cell in my body screams that he belongs to me?

“I need you both to remember that this is a large-scale police operation and you are not official officers. You’ll be working with us as consulting detectives. But I’ll be in charge here.”

“She means she’s going to be your babysitter,” Charles clarifies. “We have rules to follow, and Evalyn will be responsible for making sure you follow them.”

“No problem,” says Liam. “We’re completely submissive to you, Evalyn.”

I don’t believe him. It’s more than obvious that he and Oliver are going to do whatever they want. And I’ll just be the one trying to stop them from messing up and managing the damage afterward.

“You three will be responsible for this operation and you’ll have full support from our teams,” Charles adds. “But I do have one question, Mr. Liam. How will you juggle your CEO duties with this police operation?”

“I can delegate some of my CEO responsibilities, Colonel Charles. I’ll give this operation my full attention. It’s a personal matter to me.”

“And of course, it’s also about keeping our company’s image clean,” Oliver adds, looking very serious.

“Well, then I guess we’re all set,” I say, standing up. “Come back tomorrow so we can get started.”

I extend my hand to Oliver, who shakes it firmly. Liam, on the other hand, looks at my hand and hesitates for a moment. He uses his hands to button his suit jacket again — once more as if shielding himself from me.

“I’m not really a fan of handshakes, Evalyn. I’m germophobic. But consider our partnership sealed.”

They leave, and I look again at my superior, who’s staring straight at me.

“You need to make this partnership work, Evalyn,” he says. “If we lose control, the entire operation goes down. And you’ll go down with it.”

“I know that, Colonel. I’ll make it work.”

If this operation fails, it won’t just be Liam Havoc ending up with a record. Me too. My name is now tied to this project. If it spirals out of control, my career burns with it.

I go back to my desk to study the files, restless.

Even after they’re gone, Liam’s presence still lingers in the air, like static electricity under my skin.

I don’t like him.

I don’t trust him.

But something inside me already knows: this bond is going to drag me into a fire I might not be able to escape.

And even so... I’ll make it work.