Becoming Macy

Three

TW: MURDER

Wyatt:

I shook Sonny’s hand before leaving with Gabby in tow. My father had convinced Sonny months ago to send Gabriella to the college where four generations of Whitlock men have been educated, and I could have wrung his neck for it. I thought at least I would get some relief from her, but no such luck.

“Wyatt, are you even listening to me?” I turned my attention from the road, smiling apologetically because I hadn’t been paying attention to her.

“Sorry, Gabs. It was a long night.” I had almost hoped someone would ask me about it, but there is no such thing as a listening ear when it comes to Gabby.

“Yeah, well, anyways. As I had said, Daddy has me blah blah blah.” I was looking at her, but her words wouldn’t register. I couldn’t make sense of anything as the yellow crime scene tape and flashing lights came into view just behind Devour.

“S.h.i.t, what’s going on?” Gabby asked, as if I hadn’t just seen this for myself.

I parked the car away from the cops, and their crime scene and pulled my phone out, shooting a quick email to the hacker we have been using for several jobs lately.

GateKeeper: I need you to pull footage around a place called Devour. I will send you the address and give you a grand to tell me why there are cops there.

Deadly Nightshade: Looks like a murder.

His reply came quickly, and for a second, I could breathe until Creed called me, telling me someone had beaten Dirty Johnny’s face in using a bar from the dumpster behind the club last night. We both had the same thought. It must be one of the smaller rival gangs had targeted the Whitlocks, leading me to message the hacker again.

GateKeeper: Can you get any footage of whoever murdered the guy?

Deadly Nightshade: No. It has all been erased, and before you ask, no, I can’t get it back. Once it is gone, it is gone.

“Fuck.” I growled.

“What is it, babe?” Gabby asked.

Jesus, I didn’t need this today.

“I have to take you home. Someone beat Dirty Johnny to a pulp behind the club last night.” She just nodded. If there was ever a compliment I could give her, she understood my work because she has her father’s empire like my brother, and I have our fathers.

“Sure. If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know.” I nodded before putting the car in gear, turning around, and taking her back to the Barlow mansion.

I got back in touch with the hacker once I dropped her off. He gave me the name, address, and DMV photo of the bastard responsible for Dirty Johnny’s murder.

“Get your s.h.i.t, Creed. I got a name for the guy that offed Dirty Johnny. We need to get a leg up on this so people know better than to do their business around ours.” I grumbled, throwing a few things into my backpack for the trip. The address the hacker gave me is only about twenty minutes away, but you never really know what you may need.

“Take care of it, little brother. A shipment is coming in tonight, and Dad wanted us to take care of it. You deal with the Dirty Johnny guy, and I will deal with the shipment, then we talk to Dad together. He will be pleased that you took this initiative. Dad told me when the cops talked to him that Johnny was beaten so badly his eyes had blown to bits in their sockets.” Creed said, rolling his cigarette between his teeth. I just grabbed my bag and walked out. It wouldn’t do me any favors to argue with Creed. He has already stepped into his role in our family, and I am still the little brother trying to prove my worth in my father’s business.

I rode my bike through the dark streets of the city. Honey Dew Lane was a lower-middle-class neighborhood, but it was quaint and seemed entirely normal. Too bad it will be shaken with grief by morning.

I parked in an alley, went to the front door of the unsuspecting murderer who crossed the path of the devil the night he killed on our turf, and casually knocked on the door. I never removed my helmet. No reason to.

“What the f.u.c.k do you want?” this is the man from the DMV photo, and judging from the black eye swollen shut, Johnny fought back a bit.

“An eye for an eye.” I forced my way in, slamming his head into the staircase behind him. I was in a hurry tonight, so this must be quick. With one more hit, I knocked him into a deep sleep. I removed my backpack, pulled a syringe and a vial of morphine from my bag, and shot a lethal dose into his veins.

“What are you doing?” A woman’s voice called out. I turned quickly to see that she held a small child in her arms who was looking at me like I was a god.

“Get out of the house or burn up with it.” I spat through gritted teeth. The hacker didn’t mention a wife and kid. But from the look of

her busted a.s.s. face, I just did her a favor.

“T—Thank you. Thank you so much!” She sobbed hysterically, grabbed the car keys from the table beside the door, and fled like a scared pup.

I jammed a plug, igniting the curtains in a blaze. At least this way, that woman can get some insurance money. I pulled the scum from the stairs and dropped him onto the couch. To the investigators, this was an accidental house fire that claimed a husband and father, but to the underground, everyone will know who did this and why.

Nobody f.u.c.k.s with the Whitlocks.

Macy:

I was pacing my room in a panic over the emails I had gotten asking me to look into the murder of the creep from last night. The swine that I had killed for a rush of emotion. Now, the people who hide within the same city as me, using me for their dirty jobs, are looking into the murder... But why? I squatted at the foot of my bed, trying to gather myself. The sounds of Gabriella stomping upstairs, yelling for Sonny. Had my heart hammering in my ears. I almost forgot to breathe when she went into his office, slamming the door behind her. Are they looking for the murderer too?

At that moment, in a mix of panic and fear, adrenaline zipped through me like nothing else I had ever felt. Then I realized what I felt. I feel panic. I feel fear. That storm of adrenaline, the power it created, was addictive, something I could do for the rest of my life and never tire of it… and who would ever suspect me? Poor, naïve, quite little Macy Anderson… No one… that’s who.

I sat down in my computer chair, still riding the high of my newfound hobby, searching for a low life. I looked through the city’s traffic cams and people’s home security systems and even checked a town or two over. When I was ready to abandon my search, I looked through home cameras again, looking in on the living rooms of the people who hadn’t been home in my earlier investigations.

Then I found 3346 Honey Dew Drive… A brunette man twisted his fists into the hair of a pleading woman trying to break his grip to reach their crying child. He is my low life.

Deadly Nightshade: Donovan Andrews, address is 3346 Honey Dew Dr. He is your man. I took the liberty of attaching his DMV photo.

GateKeeper: Good looking out. Transferring your cash now.

I sat back with a smile, still shocked by the emotions that had been triggered by this crime of mine. The rest of the day was spent on more constructive things than fearing I had been found out. I bought a jeep, then spent the rest of the afternoon drinking coffee in the sunset, wishing I was in the ocean that I would be living on soon, if not for Sonny Barlow stealing that opportunity from me. After last night, it is better not to go so far away. After all, a hobby like the one I developed overnight is best had in a city run by two men with everything in their back pockets… including the cops.

That night I picked through every nook and cranny of the dark web, looking for ways to kill and get by with it. When nothing tickled my fancy, I fell asleep dreaming of Wyatt Whitlock and our time in our fort several summers ago.

I woke up to my alarm blaring the local news of a house fire that claimed the life of thirty-six-year-old Donovan Andrews. The cleansing of his sins in a fire sparked a desire in me that no amount of therapy or medication could extinguish. I had been turned into something vile with the urge to chase a high that no drug could bring me. I had found my purpose in this chaotic life. Sweet little Macy… quiet, naïve, pathetic Mousey was born to be a reaper of sins.