Vendetta Road (Torpedo Ink 3)

Czar knew, from experience, that when a very young toddler was subjected to training from that early age, and it continued until they were in their early twenties, there was no going back. It was always there. Instincts. First reactions. Need. Savage was damaged beyond repair, but he was a weapon always to be counted on.

In position, Ice replied. He’s going to run right into the room with me. I see him now, but he doesn’t see me. He’s pulling out his phone, thinking it’s safe to relax now and call for help. He isn’t certain if anything is real or not.

Let him make the call, Czar advised. Whoever he calls is part of this ring.

Then there was Ice and Storm and Alena. Czar sighed. The three had been brought to the school because they were unusually beautiful children. The boys were twins. Sorbacov, the man behind the murders of those opposing his candidate, had been a sick, sadistic fuck who, for political reasons, had to keep his proclivities a secret. He’d married, had children, but he had gathered the cruelest like-minded pedophiles around him, those with criminal histories, and had given them a banquet. No one had expected any of the children to survive. The moment Sorbacov had laid eyes on those three little ice-blond toddlers, he was never going to pass on them.

That had been one of Czar’s darkest moments. He had almost given up, knowing what was in store for those three babies. Knowing it would be worse than bad, the way it had been for Reaper and Savage. Sorbacov would fixate on them, as would the most brutal and depraved of the vile criminals running the school. The more the criminals had been given free rein, the more they’d thought up to subject the children to. Czar hadn’t been much older, and like the others, he’d been powerless to stop the adults—until he thought of his father and his wolf-pack stories.

Even as very young toddlers, Ice and Storm had fought hard to protect each other and their baby sister, Alena. Czar had known then that they had what it took to join his pack. As small children, they’d been helpless against the predators running the school, but once he’d taught them to become predators, like he had Savage and Reaper, they’d become very good at what they did. Too good.

David Swey, the hot dog vendor, had been tailed after he left his home in Graton and traveled toward Occidental. He had gone straight to the mansion that had been previously owned by Walter Sandlin, where Czar’s adopted son Kenny had been held since he was a young boy. Swey had waited for someone, peering at his watch over and over, clearly spooked by the creak of the branches against the windows.

It was the perfect environment for Ice and Storm to create an atmosphere of fear. Czar never understood how they did it, but they had some kind of psychic ability to utilize the weather. The wind, the clouds, even lightning and thunder. Right now, the wind was moaning and crying, dashing those branches against windows so that they scraped and shrieked against the glass.

Swey looked around the room nervously. The pictures of Walter and Kenny had been taken down and in their place were photographs of Avery Charles with several little girls. Apparently, he had bought the mansion. The estate, built like a castle, complete with gargoyles crouched overhead, was set well back from the road, and there were few neighbors. The closest ones were several miles away, enabling the mansion to be used in whatever way the occupants saw fit.

Swey held the phone to his ear. “Where the hell are you? I thought we were supposed to meet here at nine. Avery’s not here, and let me tell you, this place is creepy.”

He listened for a couple of minutes and glanced at his watch again. “I don’t have all night. By the time the two of you get here, we’ll have ten minutes for the meeting. I have to know what I’m looking for if he has a specific kid in mind. I’ve got a couple of runaways I’ve been friendly with. Hopefully one of them will suit him, and it will be easy.”

There was silence again as he listened. Again, he glanced at his watch, shook his head and then sighed. “Fine. But just get here, Harold. I’m telling you this place is haunted.” He shoved his phone in his back pocket and looked around the room again.

He went over to the fireplace, picked up the remote and turned it on, so the flames danced and added more light. At the same time, the flickering fire threw more shadows, so they crept up the walls, reaching out with dark tentacles toward the ceiling. Swey sank onto the bed, staring into the fire.