His words cut Tiara deeply because she had spent the last three years trying to heal and get past that part of her life. It was a daily struggle for her having to deal with the nightmares that presented themselves nightly. Every night she saw an image of Doctor Pierce on top of her, pounding into her relentlessly. She recalled the feelings of pleasure and hatred that seemed to intertwine together. She remembered the feeling of the drugs on the days she fought him off of her in the institute, and she often had flashbacks of the day three of his workers ran a train on her. What she was having a hard time understanding was how the man before her had even the slightest clue of what was going on in the clinic.
“Why are you here? What do you want from me?” Tiara did her best to sound confident. She refused to let him see that she was actually terrified inside. Don’t show him that you’re scared. You’ve been through worse shit than this. Tiara gave herself a little pep talk. She tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever was about to happen.
With one swift motion, he pulled out his gun and put it to her head. “This might just be one of the easiest hits that I’ve ever had to carry out since your father’s,” he said. “I just want you to know that back then, none of what I told you was a lie. You were always special to me. Now, it’s just business.”
At that moment his finger tightened around the trigger of his weapon and right before the shot rang out that would end her life, Tiara closed her eyes and took a deep breath when she felt the cold steel metal push against her temple. She had no regrets, so as she stood there vulnerable and unarmed, she prepared herself to die. She knew death would be coming for her one day. She wasn’t expecting it to come to her so soon, but either way, here it was. Her mind rewound all the way back to the beginning of it all . . .
Chapter 1
“Death is only the beginning,” an unforgiving voice spoke softly.
The lights inside of an empty two-car garage were dimmed, and the smell of old oil invaded the nostrils of a man sitting bound to a wooden chair. Five men stood around him like a pack of hungry wolves, their eyes begging him to do something stupid, although the only thing that he could do was quiver and look hopeless. He had already tried to plead his innocence, but his words fell on deaf and uncaring ears. There were footsteps on his right, and in seconds, there was a familiar figure standing in front of him. He looked into the eyes of the muscular man before him and felt that he was staring at the Grim Reaper himself.
Blake Rogers stood directly in front of the terrified man with murder in his eyes. The only thing separating the two of them was a table. On top of that table was a silver tray that held two items: a syringe and a meat cleaver.
“I trusted you, Vincent,” Blake spoke again. “You are my cousin, but I loved you like a brother. Why would you steal from me? From my office? You must have thought by taking the security footage from my home, your tracks would be covered. Are you stupid, nigga?”
Blake had never felt more betrayed in his life. Not only was he missing a grand total of $150,000 from his home safe, but the offender was none other than his own flesh and blood. One of his most trusted workers informed him that he saw Vincent take the money with his own eyes. He claimed that the only reason he did not stop him was because Vincent said that he was following Blake’s orders shortly after Vincent left town for a few days, and Blake hadn’t heard from him.
This nigg knows how I get down. He musta been smoking something to pull this shit.
As Blake spoke, he grabbed the syringe and thumped the needle with the middle finger in his right hand. Vincent, whose mouth was duct taped shut, tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. Seeing the fury in Blake’s eyes, Vincent fought hard against his restraints and made silent pleas with his eyes. Blake laughed out loud at the sound Vincent was making.
“Whose idea was the duct tape?” he asked with a thick Southern accent. He looked around at the circle of men, and his eyes fell on the one, Diablo, who had come forth with the news of the betrayal. He nodded his approval. “Good job. Can’t have all of Texas hearing the cries of this scumbag, can we?” Blake said, thumping the needle with his finger. “You have been working with me for years, Vincent. Years! You’ve seen firsthand what happens to those who cross me. You have assisted with it! You are the only person who knew the combination to the safe, and Diablo here says he saw you taking the money out from my safe with a suitcase.”
Vincent’s eyes opened even wider, and he whipped his head so that he could face Diablo, who, in turn, smirked at him. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head “No,” trying to plead his case, but the duct tape over his mouth prevented his speech. He fought so hard against the ropes around his arms and ankles that the chair shook back and forth. Finally, Vincent gave up, knowing that fighting was no use. There was no point in trying to plead for his innocence because Blake was too far past the point of reason. Instead, he said a silent prayer that God would have mercy on Diablo’s soul.
“This, my dear cousin
