Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

I kept my voice low. “He doesn’t have his katana now.”

“Which is a positive sign.” Naveen shook his head. “You’ve been in here many times. Where do you think he is taking us?”

“The ballroom.”

“Interesting.”

Minutes later, Sho waited at the end of the hallway for us but didn’t turn around. When we came within a few feet of him, he unlocked the ballroom’s door and held it open.

Naveen and I walked through.

Maxwell followed. “Love your hair, man.”

“Thank you, Maxwell.” Sho closed the door behind us.

My body tensed. Thankfully, Maxwell didn’t appear shocked that he knew his name. However, I could tell that my friend was rattled. Yet, there was no time to worry about that. The image in front of us captured all of our attention from thereon.

What the fuck?

Naveen whispered in a shaky tone, “That’s Hiro.”

Sucking on a lollipop, Hiro sat on a mountain of dead bodies. His head was close to touching the tip of a chandelier. Even with the high ceilings, surely a mountain of anything wasn’t able to fit in the brothel’s ballroom. But one couldn’t describe the massive pile of mangled limbs and stiff corpses as a hill, heap, or stack. There was too much death and horror. Graying skin. Rotting hands gripping guns. Dried blood coated the floor. Throughout the mountain, faces peeked out—all frozen in horror.

The interesting thing was that all the bodies were men. Some were from the Brotherhood. Others must’ve been customers. Not one was a female. That showed that these Xecutioners did have some limits.

I covered my nose and blocked the odor. Naveen did the same. Meanwhile, Maxwell simply studied the bodies as if he were more than used to the stench of death.

I returned my view to Hiro.

The man hadn’t even looked our way. He simply sat on top of the mountain of death, doing something with his hands. I squinted and leaned my head to the side.

Is he painting his nails?

He placed something on the side and blew at his nails.

Yes. He’s painting his nails. What do I make of this cocky man?

Mostly short black hair outlined Hiro’s face. A dark red streak was on the right side of his head. He wore the same outfit as Sho—black silver zippered pants, long black sleeved shirt, and dark boots. He wasn’t slim like Sho. There was clear muscle under that shirt and huge shoulders to hold it all up.

We waited in silence. What else could one do when a man sat on top of dead bodies? It also gave me time to take in the space. That was when I noticed several men lining the walls. They all had on the same outfit—black silver zippered pants, long black sleeved shirts, and dark boots.

Akiva said they wore different suits to the meeting with Leonid, but tonight it’s all the same thing. This must be what they wear when they kill.

I counted five other men besides Hiro and Sho. Even with the same uniform, they boasted distinct styles. One man had blue hair in a bowl cut, while the man next to him kept his silver hair long. Another had short brown curls. The man near him boasted black hair with pink streaks. Finally, the man with a scar on his eye donned a black hat. That one had a scar on his eye.

A door slammed behind us. I checked over my shoulder. A man walked in with short black hair. A long silver cross earring dangled from his ear.

Eight men so far.

I directed my focus back to Hiro.

On the mountain of death, Hiro blew at his hand again and then turned to us. A smile spread across his face. Seconds later, he jumped off the mountain and landed on his feet, showing strong athleticism.

He wants us to see his skills. Don’t worry. I’m taking note.

Taking the lollipop out of his mouth, Hiro prowled over to Naveen and spoke in a foreign language. I tried to figure out what language it could be. Naveen knew seven—English, Russian, Hindi, Japanese, Mandarin, Thai, and French.

Naveen held a grim expression and looked at me. “He wants you to take off your jacket and shirt. He heard you had an interesting tattoo.”

Maxwell whispered, “What the fuck?”

This was an odd position to be in. I couldn’t think of many times when I needed to keep patience in a situation. Usually, I was the top killer in the room. If not, then Kazimir stood next to me, and he could roar better than anyone.

But this group of fashionable men had cleared the brothel—killing every last man. And I didn’t see a gun in sight or any injuries on them. While Kazimir might have killed the man for such a request, I’d found a polite gesture went further than a bullet.

Putting the lollipop back in his mouth, Hiro kept his gaze on my eyes as if trying to open them up and get a peek at my soul.